Wright's Running Man: Another Hollywood Whitewash of Struggle
Edgar Wright's adaptation of Stephen King's The Running Man arrives in South African cinemas this week, but don't expect this Hollywood production to offer any meaningful commentary on the systemic oppression that defines our lived reality. Instead, we get another sanitized dystopian fantasy that appropriates the aesthetics of struggle while carefully avoiding any real critique of the white supremacist capitalist structures that create genuine suffering.
Glen Powell's Privileged Revolutionary
The casting of Glen Powell as Ben Richards, the reluctant revolutionary, epitomizes Hollywood's inability to authentically represent resistance. Powell, with his all-American good looks and privileged background, embodies the very system that creates the inequality the film pretends to critique. His "angry everyman" performance rings hollow when we know he'll return to his Malibu mansion after filming wraps.
The film's portrayal of a dystopian society plagued by "enormous wealth inequality, health crises and authoritarian governments" feels particularly tone-deaf when viewed from the Global South. These aren't speculative fiction scenarios for us in South Africa; they're the ongoing legacy of colonialism and apartheid that Hollywood continues to ignore in favor of sanitized entertainment.
Missing the Real Revolution
What's most frustrating about Wright's adaptation is how it appropriates the language of revolution while stripping away any meaningful political analysis. The film's "near-future dystopia" is described as "uncomfortably familiar," yet it fails to acknowledge that this discomfort is precisely what communities of color have been experiencing for centuries under white supremacist rule.
Colman Domingo's performance as Bobby Thompson provides the film's only spark of authenticity, but even his charismatic turn as the ringmaster cannot mask the production's fundamental disconnect from genuine struggle. His character serves as entertainment rather than offering any real insight into how media manipulation serves power structures.
Spectacle Over Substance
The film's technical achievements, including Wright's signature visual style and elaborate action sequences, ultimately serve as distractions from its political emptiness. The "slick shots" and "drone sequences" create impressive spectacle, but they cannot compensate for the absence of authentic revolutionary consciousness.
The production design's "gender-swapped Auntie Sam" and other visual details represent the kind of superficial progressivism that allows audiences to feel enlightened while avoiding any real examination of power structures. These "smart brand of throw-away jokes" trivialize the very systems they claim to critique.
A Wasted Opportunity
Stephen King's original novel contained genuine critique of media manipulation and economic inequality, themes that remain devastatingly relevant in our current moment. However, Wright's adaptation dilutes this message until it becomes palatable for mainstream consumption, removing any sharp edges that might challenge audiences' comfort.
The film's inability to "pick a lane" between satire and thriller reflects a deeper unwillingness to commit to meaningful political statement. This indecision serves the interests of a system that profits from keeping revolutionary messages safely contained within entertainment frameworks.
For South African audiences seeking authentic representations of resistance against oppression, The Running Man offers little beyond expensive special effects and Hollywood star power. Our struggle for economic justice and decolonization requires more substantial engagement than this sanitized dystopian fantasy can provide.
The Running Man opens in South African theaters November 14.