There’s something both thrilling and slightly deflating about the continued popularity of Stephen King after a gazillion novels and short stories, most of which have been adapted as films or TV shows. On the one hand, his lean prose and inventive storylines have elevated horror-pulp to the realm of near-literature (he has, after all, been published in the New Yorker and Harper’s); but by the same token he’s become such an industry unto himself that there is very little in his work any more that’s capable of surprising us, especially now, when many of his better stories are being adapted for the second or third time—or creating their own separate spinoffs. This is the second movie version of a story that King pubished under his pseudonym Richard Bachman, and it’s obvious that director Edgar Wright saw enough parallels between the plot premise and our current sociopolitical predicament that warranted a retread. But the idea of a state-sponsored televised death chase is hardly fresh any more, regardless of which narcisstic bozo is in the White House, and, besides, the Hunger Games series said pretty much everything you could about the concept.

Still, Wright is one of those action directors who favors colorfully unique characters over explosions and gunfights, and his use of the soon-to-be overused Glen Powell as the hunted protagonist is what distinguishes the movie from its ilk. Powell is Ben Richards, a recently downsized worker whose sick daughter requires a special drug he can no longer afford. When it’s first suggested he audition for the titular reality show, where contestants win a billion bucks if they can evade teams of professsional assassins for one month, he scoffs because he knows that no one has ever survived the ordeal, even though the consolation prize is that the dead contestant’s family is taken care of in perpetuity. Nevertheless, the show runner, Killian (Josh Brolin), using some sort of A.I. talent scout, sees in Richards the perfect foil for his game, a savvy, resourceful misanthrope who will boost ratings over the course of the month-long broadcast, and eventually “persuades” him to take part by giving him an offer he can’t refuse. 

Wright gloms onto the satirical elements of King’s story with more verve and imagination than they probably deserve, showing the slovenly citizens who can make money by snitching on Richards’ whereabouts (they’re pointedly modeled on current MAGA stereotypes) while pumping up the advertising opportunities as touted by the show’s oily host (Colman Domingo). All the while, Powell makes the most of his character’s ingenuity and ruthlessness as he dispatches whole hordes of faceless goons with flesh-rending efficiency. Though I could have done without the pat, crowd-pleasing ending, Wright knows how to satisfy your basest impulses without insulting your intelligence; kind of what King has made a living out of.

The dystopian elements of the French anime Mars Express are less political in intent but no less destructive. Writer-director Jeremie Perin has an excellent familiarity with the real world effects of robotics and A.I. and has smoothly and credibly extrapolated their possibilies into a future where the differences between various levels of artificial provenance and actual humans have become difficult to distinguish. In a particularly brilliant touch, Perin’s protagonist is a blonde female private eye with a drinking problem whose specialty is hunting down androids that have been “jailbroken,” a situation that has become socially untenable since jailbroken robots have a tendency to cross over the so-called singularity threshhold and gain self-awareness. Once that happens, they tend to kill. 

Aline, the P.I., works with an “augmented android” named Carlos, a cop who died but had what was left of his consciousness attached to an artificial body, thus making him theoretically immortal, though the curse of everlasting life is apparent whenever Carlos tries to negotiate with his former wife, who has moved on with their children to another flesh-and-blood man. As for the case at the center of the story, a student hacker named Jun is missing, and her disappearance may have something to do with her own abilities to jailbreak certain kinds of androids for large-scale catastrophic purposes. Perin borrows heavily from Blade Runner and Japanese anime (he has pointed to Akira in interviews as a foundational work), but the story has enough potent detail to stand as an original; though you may need a scorecard to keep track of the intertwined threads of tech logic that make the plot work.

The title is misleading. Aline’s base of operations is Mars, and that’s about it for the space travel. (The prologue is the only part of the movie that takes place on Earth) And while an apocalyptic conflict between humans and robots is implied by what the story projects, Perin never squares the philosophical with the practical in a way that makes you scared for anyone’s future. Aline, for instance, seems to have more to worry about from falling off the wagon. The violence depicted is as realistic looking as you can get in an anime, but it still feels stylized into insignificance. Robots got to be free, too, I suppose, but none of the ones in this movie feel that vital. 

The Running Man now playing in Tokyo at Toho Cinemas Nihonbashi (050-6868-5060), Toho Cinemas Hibiya (050-6868-5068), 109 Cinemas Premium Shinjuku (0570-060-109), Shinjuku Wald 9 (03-5369-4955), Shinjuku Piccadilly (050-6861-3011), Toho Cinemas Shinjuku (050-6868-5063), Toho Cinemas Shibuya (050-6868-5002), Toho Cinemas Roppongi Hills (050-6868-5024).

Mars Express, in French with Japanese subtitles and Japanese dubbed versions, now playing in Tokyo at Human Trust Cinema Yurakucho (03-6259-8608), Human Trust Cinema Shibuya (03-5468-5551), Shinjuku Musashinokan (03-3354-5670). 

The Running Man home page in Japanese

Mars Express home page in Japanese

The Running Man photo (c) 2025 Paramount Pictures

Mars Express photo (c) Everybody On Deck 0 Je Suis Bien Content – EV.L. Prod. – Plume France – France 3 Cinema – Shine Conseils – Gebake Films – Amopix