The Running Man (2025) follows our hero, Ben Richards (Glen Powell), as he competes in the dystopian future’s most popular game show, “The Running Man”, to win the money his sick daughter (Alyssa Benn) and struggling wife (Jayme Lawson) need to escape the thralls of poverty. To do so, Ben must survive for 30 days while both professional assassins and goon squads hunt him down. Regular citizens even get in on the action by reporting his every move for reward money of their own. It’s a fight for survival as the show’s producer (Josh Brolin) progressively raises the stakes all in the name of ratings.

To address the positives first, Glen Powell turns in yet another compelling performance. Powell first showcased his leading man capabilities in 2023’s Hit Man, and he continues to showcase them here. His charisma and screen presence are often the only things holding The Running Man (2025) together, and they manage to do so without much strain. Colman Domingo also turns in a fun performance as Bobby Thompson, the show’s over-the-top, eccentric host who pursues audience engagement over all else. His flexible relationship with ideals like “truth” and “moral obligation” gives the film a sturdy thematic foundation to build off of.

Beyond the performances, there are a few chuckle-worthy gags in the later stages of the hunt, and an admittedly decent stretch in the second act where the film finds its rhythm.

Unfortunately, that’s about it for nice things to say, which brings us to The Running Man (2025)’s long list of issues. The biggest, and perhaps most disappointing, is that the film truly could have been directed by anyone. Edgar Wright’s trademark editing, witty dialogue, and impeccable pacing are all noticeably absent from the very first scene. Instead, the film blitzes through the first act with a clear lack of direction. Nothing is given time to breathe. Within 30 seconds Ben goes from promising to never go on the life threatening show to being fitted for his onscreen uniform, and it definitely doesn’t come across as intentional. The film never even gives us enough time to start caring about Ben’s sick daughter, which is rather problematic as her illness is the catalyst for the entire plot.

To extend an olive branch, The Running Man (2025) does obviously try and lean into the cheesy over-the-top satire the material lends itself to, but it never quite clicks. This then drags down all the other creative choices that were clearly made with that angle in mind. It also sadly gives the studio an excuse to jam in as much product placement as they can, and they certainly take advantage. Monster, anyone? No? How about some Liquid Death instead?

As previously mentioned, the The Running Man (2025) does start to find its stride in the second half, but horrific child acting and cringe-worthy reoccurring characters continually interrupt it. What’s worse, is that some of these awkward gags sneak back into the final moments of the film, robbing it of any opportunity to end on a high note. So what we’re left with is a rushed and messy first act, some passable action in the middle, and a rudely interrupted climax.

With all these structural issues you may be wondering if the film at least has any rich thematic layers to dig into. And deep down, you already know the answer. The Running Man (2025) only offers some very surface-level critiques of the media, and of its role in sowing division within and between social classes. It also, without ever name dropping the technology, gently warns of how AI can further those deceptions. Nothing particularly novel.

Ultimately, The Running Man (2025) falls short on multiple levels without ever crossing the line into being truly awful. Edgar Wright’s fingerprints are conspicuously missing, the pacing is haphazard and breakneck, many performances are downright embarrassing, and the film does its best to sabotage itself when it finally tries to land the plane. Add in the fact that it has shockingly little to say about a country run by a game show producer with roving bands of headhunter goons (bad or good), and I’d say to run far away from this one.

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The following essay contains spoilers for The Wolf of Wall Street (2013), American Psycho (2000), and Fight Club (1999).

Martin Scorsese’s ​The Wolf of Wall Street​ showcases the story of real life stockbroker Jordan Belfort (Leonardo DiCaprio). It illustrates his acquisition of wealth and the subsequent destruction of his empire, quickly followed by him dodging any substantial punishment. Released in 2013, ​The Wolf of Wall Street​ can be read as a direct response to the Great Recession beginning in 2007. With the help of a number of Scorsese’s filmmaking techniques, the film’s visuals directly appeal to the crowd hit hardest by the failing financial systems. Instead of responding to the destruction of Belfort’s life, audiences latch onto Belfort himself due to the spectacle inadvertently replacing the message.

As the film opens and Belfort describes how he,

“…gambles like a degenerate…”, “…drinks like a fish…”, and has “…three different federal agencies looking to indict [him]”,

Scorsese, The Wolf of Wall Street

the audience gets to watch a medium close-up of him doing cocaine off of an attractive woman’s butt. So while the film’s dialogue details a life teetering on the edge, the visual is much more engaging and desirable to a stereotypical male audience. Much like American prescription drug commercials, the potential horrors are audibly listed off while accompanied by eye candy.

Not only are the undesirable portions of Belfort’s life overshadowed, but the desirable pieces are paraded across the screen. When celebrating a week’s earnings, the office transforms into a dazzling house of debauchery. Marching band music plays, the band members march through the halls in their underwear, and then the servers and strippers follow close behind. Quick cuts between medium shots of two groups of strippers charging at each other fill the frame, with a strobe effect turning the whole scene into a dream. A close up of Belfort’s face appears near the end, as he pridefully watches over what he has created. Numerous scenes of this scale appear throughout The Wolf of Wall Street​ and they all end up distracting a sizable segment of viewers from the morally reprehensible nature of Belfort’s business and his looming demise.

The film presents all of this as easily accessible to the audience as well. According to the film Belfort’s only qualification is that he decides to move to Wall Street because of his love for money. He quickly finds himself working up the ladder as a stock broker and when that fails due to circumstances out of his control, he immediately pivots to penny stocks and experiences almost immediate success.

Finally, the film ends with Belfort proclaiming that for a,

“…brief fleeting moment, [he’d] forgotten [he] was rich”.

Scorsese, The Wolf of Wall Street

At this point the film notes that despite all of his crimes, all of those he hurt along the way, and even the destruction of his own personal life, he would not be paying a hefty legal price. It gives audience members the illusion they could experience the three hours worth of hedonistic depravity as well, at little cost. Further driving this point home, the real Jordan Belfort appears in a cameo in the final scene to introduce Leonardo DiCaprio’s character version of himself at a get-rich-quick seminar. Not only did Jordan Belfort dodge consequences for his actions, he now gets to appear in a Hollywood film directed by legendary director Martin Scorsese. In the final seconds of the film, the camera pans over the audience in a medium close-up at eye level, a metaphor for the real audiences’ aspirations to achieve Belfort’s supposed success.

Thomas Salek notes,

“…the film’s cultural reception demonstrates a public ambiguously mesmerized by a wealthy individual and his ‘get rich quick’ philosophy.” Following the Great Recession, “In a 2013 political poll, more than half of U.S. adults said they did not think the government and financial industry had done enough to prevent future financial crises”. Yet, “…they are hesitant to impose any form of regulation on financial markets”. ​

Thomas Salek

The Wolf of Wall Street​ released at a time when many Americans were economically struggling, but also refusing to punish the individuals who put them in that position, possibly out of the hope that one day it may be them on top. ​The Wolf of Wall Street​ showed the disillusioned audiences how that may be possible for them. In the United States where money is so tightly intertwined with power, the men who felt emasculated by the recession now had an outlet of escapism. ​The Wolf of Wall Street ​said by fighting their way out of poverty to reap the rewards of capitalism, men could regain their masculine identity and the rewards that accompany that (mainly women and power). Society will not simply hand out this identity, but instead it will only award it to those willing to struggle against their current socioeconomic condition.

Much like ​The Wolf of Wall Street​, Mary Harron’s ​American Psycho ​found itself released during tumultuous economic times. It reached theaters in the year 2000, with the dot-com bubble having recently burst. ​American Psycho​ follows investment banker Patrick Bateman (Christian Bale) as he strives to maintain an impeccable image for his yuppie colleagues, acquaintances, and fiancee. As the film progresses we watch as Bateman lures in and brutally murders numerous women. It concludes with Bateman being denied the condemnation he seeks by his peers, and the other characters merely continuing to focus on their own lives.

Similar to how ​The Wolf of Wall Street​ parodies the excessive lifestyle of Jordan Belfort yet the pure spectacle of it all still carries the audience away, ​American Psycho​ shows the monstrous side of Patrick Bateman but offers no in-universe condemnation of his character. Bateman’s closing monologue over an extreme close-up of his eyes states,

“My punishment continues to elude me and I gain no deeper knowledge of myself”.

Mary Harron, American Psycho

This lack of a clear condemnation from other characters allows the excesses of his life to outshine the horrors for those already looking to ignore them.

As Peter Deakin points out,

“Bateman becomes so fragmented and de-individualized (in addition to being defined) by his insane consumerism and his hyper-yuppie vision that, composed entirely of ‘inauthentic’ commodity-related desires… he ​cannot​… exist as a person.”

Peter Deakin

This explains how the film itself, but not the characters within the film, does condemn Bateman. However, it also describes how his masculinity and monetary goals are interconnected. He sees every financial conquest as a means of increasing his desirability in a world he perceives to be constantly attempting to rip it away. ​American Psycho ​may mock this notion by showing how all of the yuppies mix up each other’s names due to a loss of individuality, but it is this same rampant materialism that allows Bateman to live in a fantastic apartment, make more money than he knows what to do with, sleep with beautiful women, and ultimately face no consequences for his actions. To the men directly hurt by the economic downturn of 2000, Bateman may come with a lot of baggage (the brutal killing of innocent women is no small thing), but he also represents a lost lifestyle that is waiting for reclamation. A lifestyle only available by fighting against the economic forces of the time.

So once again a film presents a conventionally despicable character and depicts his failings, yet the character’s lifestyle causes audiences to use his material possessions as a goal to guide their lives in troubled times (even though the film itself condemns this). For a country that sees,

“Achieving financial prosperity [as] tied to the American dream”,

Thomas Salek

characters that provide a blueprint for that are highly valuable since,

“…most Americans [now] contend that it is harder to become wealthy and there is little chance they will achieve financial prosperity”.

Thomas Salek

Counter to both ​The Wolf of Wall Street and American Psycho​, David Fincher’s ​Fight Club​ released just prior to the dot-com burst, during an economic peak. It depicts its disillusioned narrator (Edward Norton) and Tyler Durden (Brad Pitt) as they form the titular Fight Club, a place for aimless men to let loose their growing aggression. Increasingly fed up with a materialistic world, the members set out on a number of vandalism related plots, ultimately culminating in the destruction of numerous buildings housing countless debt records.

Fight Club​ parodies brands and corporations, and men’s increasing tendency to use them to define their lives. Mark Ramey states,

“The film is a powerful critique of a superficial consumer culture and the moral vacuum created by consumers who buy into that superficiality.”

Mark Ramey

Fight Club claims a generation without a war or depression to fight has it too easy and becomes effeminate as a result. It goes on to say men on some level crave violence and to fight and feel pain, feel themselves, and feel masculine. These men must fight to form their individuality and in death they will have a name. Their struggle gives them identity.

Of course much like the preceding two films which either depict their characters’ fall from grace and/or condemn them for their actions, ​Fight Club​ denounces the outright anarchy it depicts for much of its runtime when it has the narrator shoot out the part of his brain responsible for projecting the image of Tyler Durden, thus killing his aimless cravings for anarchy. But by depicting a lifestyle free of needless consumerism prior to this point, ​Fight Club​ offers an explanation to the men who feel like their lives lack purpose when their economic conditions are just too good. ​Fight Club​ tells these men to reject their financial bounties and instead embrace the primal nature of their identities. Toss out the comforts of modern life to get in touch with who you really are and what you truly desire. Those who stand in the way of this progress fail as men and (in the film, quite literally) find themselves castrated. Although this time Hollywood is not telling men to fight to climb the socioeconomic ladder, it is still telling them to fight, just this time to tear it all down.

These films expect men to pursue materialistic goods, but once they have acquired them they have either lost their individuality or have been so thoroughly consumed by their drive they have lost true autonomy. Films then encourage these same men to rebel against the broken system to tear it all down. And then films once again encourage them to strive for greatness because, without anything you are nothing, not desirable nor a real man. Throughout the years this cycle of societal and Hollywood based expectations has endured. A man must always be fighting in one direction or another to maintain his virility. To give in to the system, no matter which end of the spectrum the system is currently leaning, is a loss of decision making, agency, and therefore masculinity as often portrayed by American cinema.

Works Cited

• Deakin, Peter. “‘I Simply Am Not There’: American Psycho, the Turn of the Millennium and the Yuppie as a Killer of the Real.” ​Film International,​ vol. 14, no. 3–4 [77–78], 2016, pp. 85–101. ​EBSCOhost​, doi:10.1386/fiin.14.3-4.85_1.
• Harron, Mary, director. ​American Psycho​. Lions Gate Films, 2000.
• Fincher, David, director. ​Fight Club​. 20th Century Fox, 1999.
• Ramey, Mark. ​Studying Fight Club​. Auteur, 2014. ​EBSCOhost​, search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=e000tna&AN=828933&site=eds-live&scope=site.
• Salek, Thomas A. “Money Doesn’t Talk, It Swears: The Wolf of Wall Street as a Homology for America’s Ambivalent Attitude on Financial Excess.” ​Communication Quarterly​, vol. 66, no. 1, Jan. 2018, pp. 1–19. ​EBSCOhost​, doi:10.1080/01463373.2017.1323767.
• Scorsese, Martin, director. ​The Wolf of Wall Street.​ Paramount Pictures, 2013.

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Click here to watch the video version of this review.

The Hunt essentially opens with 12 strangers awakening in a field, all from different origins. They do not know why they are there or who may have captured them, but they quickly realize their captors do not plan to keep them alive for long.

As the next 1hr 55mins plays out, The Hunt attempts to satirize the growing political divide in America. Emphasis on “attempts.” It takes shots at both sides, but they so routinely come across as ham-fisted and clunky they elicit more moans than laughter. And in making so many surface level jokes about everyone, the film fails to make a statement. It essentially points a finger at the worst qualities of the worst people on either end of the spectrum, screams, “haha isn’t that stupid,” and then cuts to black.

Sure, it depicts far-right conservatives as prone to fantastical conspiracy theories and paints their liberal counterparts as those who are just as likely to ignore truths in order to construct their holier-than-thou positions, but it peters out after that. The Hunt simply does not say enough to justify itself. In fact, The Hunt falls victim to the same trap its characters do, it constantly thinks its smarter than it is.

About halfway through the film, there is a “twist” (I use that word lightly) that reveals The Hunt as a smidge smarter than I originally gave it credit for. However, it uses its twist to launch another surface level critique instead of saying something more profound. Every time it has the opportunity, The Hunt stops just short of producing something meaningful.

The Hunt unfortunately does not live up to the potential of its premise. If a studio decides to delay a film due to controversy, I would prefer the film to at least be controversial. Betty Gilpin’s terrific performance as Crystal fails to be truly memorable due to the films constant stumbling. A chuckle here or there cannot make up for the persistent eye-rolling The Hunt induces. Ultimately, The Hunt closer resembles a middle schooler’s idea of political satire rather than anything of value.

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Usually, studios provide theaters with roughly 90 days of exclusivity before releasing films through other means. With Universal Pictures now defying that norm, this could potentially lead to long term issues for theaters. Will moviegoers want to give up the convenience of their own home? After all, home theater set-ups have improved substantially and it seems harder and harder to find a venue with patrons not on their phones or talking to one another.

After a few months of social distancing, new habits will form. Once loyal theatergoers may begin to shun going out for the latest films and embrace a simpler and more personal experience. Home set-ups may never truly match the screen and sound quality of a decent theater, but how good is good enough? Is the pure spectacle of it all still a strong draw? Or are Universal’s actions another nail in the traditional theater system’s coffin?

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