The logline for “The Long Walk” is one of the all-time greats: A group of 50 teenage boys start walking, and they can’t stop until one remains. With it, Stephen King… I mean, Richard Bachman, turned simplicity into a rich text. All these years later, The Hunger Games franchise-director Francis Lawrence and Strange Darling-writer/director JT Mollner have brought that novel to the big-screen. Some might question whether or not a story that constitutes nothing but walking down a solitary road could make for an exciting cinematic experience. The answer is unequivocally yes. With this incredibly faithful adaptation, Lawrence and Mollner have crafted one of the great King screen adaptations. The main reason is simple. There’s a very clear understanding of what makes King such an enduring writer. It’s not just that he’s placed deep-rooted fear into an entire generation of readers. It’s that every story of his is deeply rooted in some aspect of the human experience. He has given us such a bevy of richly detailed characters throughout his career. Some are the worst of the worst, while others represent a shining beacon we can aspire to replicate in some way. And many great characters of his live right in the middle, simply doing what they can to live a good life. The Long Walk (even while writing under a pen name) was no exception. This film remains deeply faithful to that aspect of King’s writing. But it certainly doesn’t hurt that this adaptation is also one of the most brutal to ever grace the big screen.
The film begins with Ray Garraty (Cooper Hoffman) being driven to the starting line of this yearly event. His mother, played wonderfully by Judy Greer, implores her son to back out. No parent wants to see their child face any sort of grim odds, but 1 in 50 is particularly cruel. That unjust cruelty is painfully captured via Greer’s guttural shriek of horror as she scrambles for one more hug from her son. It’s a striking jolt to the senses for any audience member, regardless of whether or not you’re familiar with the text. So what comes after the dread of that situation settles down and quiet rings out? The only thing teenage boys can do, of course: they shoot the breeze. Ray introduces himself to Peter McVries (David Jonsson), and the two join the larger group of boys in taking verbal jabs at one another. It’s as natural as can be, in large part due to the wonderful performances Hoffman and Jonsson turn in. Both can capture tenderness so well, but it’s how they engage with the range of emotions beyond that softness they’re feeling that allow each to shine in a distinct and emotionally engaging manner. It also makes the film all the more upsetting. There’s a tragic awareness to realizing these characters, many of whom we grow to love, will slowly disappear from the film and become a fleeting presence. This is also a major strength of the film, stemming from both the presentation and its screenplay.
As far as presentation goes, the direction of the material is excellent. To make walking down a single road for 100 minutes visually interesting is a feat in and of itself. Lawrence has no qualms when it comes to joltingly showcasing the needless loss of human life. One doesn’t need to look any further than the immediate lead-up to the late title card drop as an example. It’s a full-course meal for genre freaks, but it’s also a raw example of how inhumane the world has become. But the same can be said for the flip side of these kids “getting their tickets punched.” For the characters with the most depth from Mollner, it’s no surprise that their demise is often captured out of focus. Instead, they’re provided a shred of solace. The audience isn’t given that same grace though. In these instances, Lawrence often has the camera pointed directly at the faces of his two leads. Hoffman and Jonsson’s pain is infused into the very DNA of this film. The resentments, frustrations and bewilderment at their situation can all be read plainly. It’s in their faces and in their actions where The Long Walk is also to thrive on the flip side of this incredibly bleak coin.
King’s ability to capture pure horror is equally matched by his ability to convey such earnest sincerity. Mollner seems quite equipped to handle the latter aspect of King’s characters in this film. The simple logline of The Long Walk allows for such rich explorations of these characters. The only thing these boys have is time. Within that time frame, Mollner has them bounce from playful to resentful, rebellious to dejected. In the most dehumanizing sequences of The Long Walk comes prime examples of Lawrence and Mollner depicting humanity as a spectrum. It can sometimes be dark and depressing. In other instances, they can capture a shockingly pure moment of serenity and beauty amidst all the ugliness surrounding these boys. The balancing act on display works wonders, and it allows the entire film to feel more authentic by letting these characters feel complex. In a world that seems starkly black-and-white, it’s these surprising human elements that carry the audience on a complete emotional journey.
The Long Walk takes place in a dystopia where only one stretch of largely abandoned road is shown. And yet, it tells us everything we could ever need to know about the nation in which it exists. It’s a country that has very clearly fallen apart, and it exists in a time where the scramble to pick up all the pieces is still very much active. Facing the calamity of this walk is just a stark means to address the issue head-on by the boys chosen to partake. All the struggle and darkness that has led these boys to actively participate in this walk is the horror at the center of it all. It extends beyond the physical pain and dystopian ideas on the surface of this film. These boys are competing for all the riches in the world and a single wish. All it costs them along the way is their humanity and potentially their lives. Despite the anger they all feel, can any be blamed for participating? Ray directly confronts the idea that cruel circumstances have forced them into feeling compelled and all but actually required to sign up for the voluntary competition. He makes a compelling argument. And if that’s the case, all the boys can do is either hope they don’t get picked to compete, or hope the circumstances don’t shatter them beyond recognition. The Long Walk ends on a related note that’s equal parts satisfying and damning; and it absolutely rules. But it leaves the audience with much to ponder as the credits roll on and on as we walk to wherever it is we’re going to next.