Or perhaps it’s Sundays with Richard? Weekends with Bachman?

The Running Man is the first Sundays with Stephen movie not, in some senses, written by Stephen King; rather, the original story upon which the movie is (somewhat loosely) based was written under his pseudonym of Richard Bachman.

How does this matter for Sundays with Stephen? Well, although technically the works he wrote under the two names are largely similar, a few differences are noted by those who’ve read a lot of King and Bachman (like, say, my roommate). Bachman books are somewhat darker, and involve fewer supernatural elements than works published under the King name. Bachman stuff tends to go deeper into the weeds of human psychology, where the horror springs from the depths of our own depravity. Bachman, as a sort of brand, might also be considered less optimistic than King, with fewer happy outcomes.

(My all time favorite long-form King is a Bachman story called The Long Walk, which, like The Running Man, deals with a dystopian future and the kind of spectacles it might use to distract and entertain its barbarous population. The Long Walk is one of the most depressing things you’ll ever read, so fair warning to anyone who’d seek it out based on my personal recommendation.)

Ok, so, The Running Man as a movie. What is it?

It’s a dumb movie. A really fun, well made, well shot, 80s-goofball extravanganza.

Why is it fun, whereas, say, Maximum Overdrive is painful? For the same reason The Colbert Report is a treat while The O’Reilly Factor should be banned under The Geneva Conventions. You can make something intentionally stupid, do it properly, and come out with a hilarious piece of comedy, while someone else could, with a lack of self-awareness, make a product that is equally moronic but come off as a lout, a thug, a bully or a hack. I’m not saying The Running Man is brilliant satire, but it was clearly made with the full knowledge that they were shooting a silly action movie, and should strive to make something fun. I believe they succeeded.

Let’s start with casting. Man, this movie has some *great* casting. Who better than Arnold the future Governator to be the star of a big, dumb action movie? No one, that’s who. Nobody does stupid action better than The Gropinator. As your villain, you have Richard Dawson, who absolutely nails the over-the-top evil of a reality tv producer whose ratings are pegged to human death, and he didn’t even have the advantage of actually living in the era of reality tv! Even your bit parts are full of character, with many of the supporting villains/manhunters the Stalkers played by, and played as, professional wrestlers. Who better to play a pop idol of violence than pop idols of (somewhat fake) violence? It lends an air of authenticity, as well as showing obvious self-awareness about the nature of the film. You even have Jesse ‘the Body’ Ventura, future governor himself (and Arnold compatriot from The Predator) playing color-commentator/washout Stalker ‘Captain Freedom’. Yaphet Kotto and Dweezil Zappa are here as well, wingmen to Arnold’s hulking hero type.

Oh, to go back to 1987 and tell people that those two men, yes, the two in goofy spandex bashing each other in the face, would one day be elected to high state office. Two of your future United States Governors!

No one would believe you. Not a man or woman. Isn’t that fantastic?

The casting fully supports the decision to make this film a *good* dumb action film, and they augment that with high quality production. Nice shooting, tons of outlandish sets, The Running Man tv show-within-a-movie even has that 80s live entertainment feel, complete with the inexplicable dancers that opened so many shows back in the 80s/early 90s. For the dancers they even got Paula Abdul to do choreography. Crassness and lack of taste pervade this movie, but by design, and they never let it drag, not even during the inevitable ‘hero turns the tables on the villain’ climax of the film, which is more or less mandated by genre law.

There’s a lot to love here. It’s supposed to be the 2010s or so, but everyone and everything has that 80s future look, with huge shoulder pads and lots of spandex. The movie is ostensibly about a society where people are gruesomely hunted down for sport, but the tone never gets depressing because every few minutes, bam, there’s another ridiculous bit of splattery comedy. How about a pro-wrestler hunting people down with a sharpened hockey stick? Or an opera-singing, go-cart riding, electricity-throwing manhunter dressed up in Christmas lights?

The silly is just piled on in layers, and liberally peppered with Arnold catchphrases to quote after a viewing.

The whole movie is designed to be a Good Time. I would have loved to catch it on the big screen, a matinee with a tub of popcorn and some candy, plus one of those kidney failure inducing drinks they sell for a king’s ransom, but alas, I was 5 when this came out.

Sometimes all you want is a comedy, and they’re few and far between in Sundays with Stephen (at least, the intentional comedies). Is it what King/Bachman intended when they wrote The Running Man? Pfft. No. Would a diehard fan of the original novella like this movie? Hard to say. It’s a radical departure.

But if you rent this from Netflix with an open mind, I think you could have a fine evening all the same.

Last Week: Creepshow 2, Far Less Funny
Next Week: Pet Sematary, starring, err, a bunch of people plus Denise Crosby, she of Star Trek fame.