Since its UK debut on November 12 and US release on November 14, Edgar Wright’s take on The Running Man has fueled passionate debate among critics and fans.
The 2025 remake, starring Glen Powell as Ben Richards, isn’t just a tribute; it’s a collision of Stephen King’s harsh dystopian vision with snippets of the Schwarzenegger-led 1987 blockbuster.
Reviewers at RogerEbert.com highlight how the movie’s relentless pace and stylized violence pump the story with energy, but sometimes at the cost of character depth and thematic clarity.
At the heart of criticism lies the question: did the ending cave to audience comfort, or did Wright sharpen King’s critique? The film’s finale doesn’t replicate the novel’s bleakness nor the original movie’s bombastic rebel triumph.
Instead, Ben survives his airborne battle, resists the network’s corrupt bargains, and escapes before the plane is shot down, a change that diverges from both previous versions.
Although social media reveals Ben’s survival and exposes the network’s manipulation, critics note that fast-paced wrap-up scenes and rapid revelations leave viewers with lingering questions rather than tidy catharsis.
This hybrid conclusion fuses revenge, hope, and anti-corporate rage, but whether it honors King’s pointed message or softens it for today’s audiences remains a hotly debated question.
Social discussion threads, including Reddit and mainstream commentary, see fans split. Some welcome a “both ways” solution that avoids the novel’s grim fatalism while borrowing the 1987 movie’s broad-stroke heroics and public insurrection.
Others worry that the film’s layered ending muddies King’s original anti-authoritarian stance, turning a radical parable into a digestible spectacle fit for modern streaming audiences.
The shift from King’s nihilistic conclusion to Wright’s crowd-pleasing yet morally ambiguous finish has sparked questions about whether the story’s bite has dulled or become more complex.
Behind the Scenes: Morality, Media, and the Era of Reality TV
Edgar Wright’s version doesn’t just update the action; it reframes the central themes for the reality TV and social media age.
Critics at Vulture and SFGate point out how the movie focuses on televised cruelty and the manufacturing of heroes and villains, but some argue it misses the mark by targeting old-school reality TV instead of confronting the power of internet platforms and viral misinformation.
The Running Man (Credit: Paramount Pictures)
The new iteration tries to expand King’s skepticism about corporate control, but fans debate whether the film’s murky morality and shifting alliances hit as hard in a world defined by algorithmic outrage.
The film’s meta-narrative, full of viral exposés, deepfakes, and livestreamed revolts, mirrors current anxieties about digital distortion and public opinion. The finale, which sees Ben’s reputation manipulated via deepfake footage and then cleared by a whistleblower’s viral video, echoes real news cycles and virtual protests.
Critics question whether these cinematic twists meaningfully confront today’s systemic problems or simply add noise to the spectacle. The rapid-fire resolution, in which Ben reunites with his family and the studio is stormed by angry viewers, channels the spirit of King’s rebellion but trades complexity for speed.
The ending’s blend of hope and vengeance divides reviewers. Some see it as a cynical nod to the possibility of change, arguing the depiction of crowds turning against the network offers viewers a glimpse of collective resistance, even as the hero’s victory feels provisional.
Others suggest this choice marks a retreat from King’s darker indictment of media-driven violence, reframing his original tale to suit modern sensibilities and mainstream appetites, a move that feels less daring than it ought to.
Whether Wright’s take ultimately strengthens or softens the original critique depends on how audiences view the relationship between media, morality, and revolt.
What’s Next: Popcorn, Protest, and the Future of Adaptation
As reactions circulate across sites from Rotten Tomatoes to discussion boards, it’s clear The Running Man sparks more questions than it answers.
Wright’s film has drawn praise for its stylish action sequences and Glen Powell’s charismatic lead performance, but it also faces criticism for its rushed denouement and uneven handling of deeper themes.
The recurring question: can big-budget popcorn entertainment meaningfully engage with the issues at its core, or does adaptation inevitably dilute radical stories?
What remains undeniable is the influence King’s story continues to wield. By blending elements from both previous versions, Wright’s adaptation cultivates a layered debate about what constitutes resistance, justice, and truth in today’s mediated society.
Social media’s role in shaping the film’s outcome, and its lively off-screen debates, suggest the conversation is far from over.
As audience reactions flood digital platforms and critics hash out the film’s strengths and failures, The Running Man (2025) highlights a persistent struggle: transforming radical ideas for mass appeal without losing their edge.
The ending rewrites the story’s conclusion, but whether it genuinely changes the point is now in the hands of the viewers and the culture they help shape.
Osgood Perkins’ “Keeper,” released theatrically on November 14, takes a slow-burning, atmospheric approach to horror with a couple’s secluded cabin trip. What begins as an anniversary retreat quickly sours as subtle disturbances escalate into supernatural horrors.
Liz (Tatiana Maslany) and her boyfriend Malcolm appear trapped not only physically but also by sinister forces linked to the cabin’s dark past.
According to reviews and analysis, the film’s pacing deliberately lingers on the emotional distance and repression between the couple, building tension through repetition and unease rather than overt scares for much of its runtime.
The late emergence of the film’s horror elements, marked by the reveal of bizarre creatures and Malcolm’s troubling secrets, jolts viewers with a crescendo of eerie and unsettling visuals.
Malcolm, initially introduced as a seemingly considerate partner, is exposed as a manipulator involved in an unholy pact granting him immortality at a horrific cost.
This pact, made with monstrous entities born from a woman he and his cousin betrayed decades before, anchors the cabin’s curse and the narrative’s supernatural dimension.
Perkins layers the film with symbolic unease: the cabin becomes a claustrophobic crucible where secrets, betrayals, and the past’s violence distort reality. The pacing emphasizes psychological torment as much as physical threat, with Liz’s emotional unraveling mirroring the escalating menace.
Yet some critics note the story’s pacing and exposition, particularly the extensive dialogue-heavy scenes attempting to clarify the horror’s origins, can blunt the impact of the final reveals.
The Cabin’s Curse and The Dark Pact Exposed
The mysterious creatures hiding in the cabin’s basement are tethered to Malcolm’s dark history: a sinister pact forged with supernatural forces that granted him extended life in exchange for human sacrifices.
This arrangement, sealed after an encounter involving a pregnant woman seen as a kind of dark religious figure, created the otherworldly entities now stalking the property. Malcolm’s exploitation of women at the cabin maintains this cycle, symbolizing a monstrous patriarchy sustained by violence and deceit.
Liz’s arrival disrupts the cycle. She bears a striking resemblance to the creatures’ mother, positioning her as a potential new “keeper” of these forces.
Rather than attacking her, the creatures show a strange protective reverence. This unexpected maternal bond between Liz and the supernatural children adds layers to the film, shifting it from a tale of pure horror to one of tragic connection and power transfer.
As Malcolm’s control falters, the creatures turn against him, a punishment for breaking their dark pact. He rapidly ages and loses his supernatural protection, culminating in a chilling reversal of power.
Keeper (Credit: Neon)
Liz, once a victim of Malcolm’s manipulations, rises to command her fate, symbolized by a poignant scene in which she feeds Malcolm a drugged cake, leading to his fall into a deadly trap.
This power shift transforms Liz from a passive character into the new force at the cabin’s center. The ending leaves ambiguous whether she will continue the cycle as a maternal figure for the creatures or forge a different path, a haunting suggestion of transformation rooted in survival, broken bonds, and long shadows from the past.
Reactions and Reflections: Art, Ambition, and Audience Response
“Keeper” arrives as part of Osgood Perkins’ distinctive brand of horror that favors mood and psychological depth over conventional scares.
The film’s deliberate pacing and layered ambiguity received mixed responses. Fans of atmospheric horror praised Maslany’s performance and the unsettling visual style, highlighting the emotional complexity beneath the horror’s surface.
However, many critics found the narrative underdeveloped, with too much time spent on circular conflicts and too little payoff for the prolonged buildup.
The exposition-heavy middle acts, which reveal the supernatural backstory through dialogue rather than immersive storytelling, diminished the mystery’s power, while the rushed final act left some viewers wanting a more satisfying resolution.
The film’s reliance on symbolism, such as the cabin as a repeating curse and the creatures as embodiments of repressed trauma within abusive relationships, invites broader readings in psychological and feminist horror circles.
By positioning Liz as a woman forced into power, “Keeper” taps into themes of survival, agency, and the reclaiming of autonomy in spaces tainted by violence.
Despite its flaws, “Keeper” delivers enough innovative moments and performances to stand out among 2025 horror films. It compels audiences to reconsider the nature of horror, moving beyond monsters to the deeply human betrayals hidden beneath.
“Keeper” unfolds as an unsettling tale of trust broken and power seized within the shadow of a cursed cabin. Liz’s transformation from captive to keeper forms the chilling core of the film, where horror merges with tragedy and the boundary between predator and protector becomes increasingly blurred.
The film’s careful revelation of hidden truths and shifting dynamics gives it a distinctive voice in contemporary horror, turning the cabin into more than a backdrop but a crucible for primal fears and the struggle for survival.
