The Running Man (1987)

I'm not into politics. I'm into survival.

The Running Man is directed by Paul Michael Glaser and adapted from the Stephen King (as Richard Bachman) story by Steven E. de Souza. It stars Arnold Schwarzenegger, Maria Conchita Alonso, Richard Dawson, Yaphet Kotto, Jim Brown, Jesse Ventura, Erland van Lidth, Marvin J. McIntyre, Gus Rethwisch, Professor Toru Tanaka and Mick Fleetwood. Music is by Harold Faltermeyer and cinematography by Thomas Del Ruth.

It may be packed with cheese and is as nutty as a squirrel's sandwich, but this is one astutely entertaining futuristic slice of sci-fi pie. Schwarzenegger becomes a reluctant contestant in the most popular TV show of the time, The Running Man. It's a sadistic show where convicts are thrust into a zonal world and have to avoid an array of stalking killers. Cue lots of outrageous violence, equally outrageous costumes, and of course with Arnold in the lead there's plenty of dialogue zingers. The caustic observation of how television programmes have evolved is potently portentous, and it's all played out to an industrial 80s score from Faltermeyer.

It helps if you know what you are going to get from it, since it's a typical Schwarzenegger movie from the fruity chaotic popcorn era in the 80s. So with that in mind, for A.S. fans this is one to gorge on with glee - for others it may not have the charm offensive required to strike a chord. 7/10

“Richards” (Arnold Schwarzenegger) has always had trouble with authority. Usually, that’s because he doesn’t like carrying out arbitrary orders in his newly militarised USA. When he finally finds himself on the wrong side of the law, his options are reduced to participation in the ultimate game show. He can win his freedom and a life of luxury if he’s the last man standing, but along the way he is going to play ball with the manipulative producer “Killian” (Richard Dawson) who has no intention of paying him a cent. Before long, though, “Richards” begins to realise that there is an undercurrent of resistance thriving here and it’s goal it to destroy the network and reinstate some sort of liberty for the now put-upon citizenry. With the “Stalkers” like “Fireball” (Jim Brown) on his tail, what chance this ill-equipped band can learn who to trust and then prevail when all the cards are stacked against them. I wouldn’t say this is one of Arnie’s more charismatic efforts, nor do either Dawson nor his henchmen really create much of a sense of menace, but it does poke fun at the whole concept of money-grabbing reality television and showcases just what people are prepare to do, to tolerate and to cheer when they are watching. Indeed, for much of this humanity reverts to it’s almost brutally tribal, gladiatorial, roots. It’s impossible to know just how many ideas it may have either inadvertently spawned or rather depressingly predicted (or both) and had Paul Michael Glaser perhaps spent just a little more time on improving the inane dialogue and cast a more sinister “Killian” this could easily have been quite a threateningly portentous warning of things to come. In the end, though, it’s just a little lacking in the story’s own convictions; at times had more of the “Generation Game” to it than anything with plausible jeopardy and it’s Harold Faltermeyer score has dated it dreadfully.