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THE RUNNING MAN (1987)
"If you’re not ready to act, give me a break and shut up!"
That’s what the director said to Schwarzenegger – tee-hee!
Seriously though, this dumber than dumb run-around is actually quite good fun, even if its depiction of 2018 is no longer valid. With its late-80s obsessions about aerobics, disco and stretchy perms, this is never going to overtake Blade Runner as the acceptable vision of the future, though I hardly think the people behind the film would lose any sleep over it. It even ends with a cheesy MOR pop ballad to complement the skinny ties.
Any Stephen King-derived material is already too obvious in satirical intent. Rewrite said satire as a Schwarz action movie and you’ve eked out any subtlety you hoped to savour. An Arnhuld satire ultimately fails to work because you know that the socio-commentary is really the least of the maker’s concerns. It’s just a perfunctory addition to what is an excuse to let Arnie indulge in some violence and rubbish puns. ("He had to split" and "He was a real pain in the neck" being the "best" – the inclusion of useless catchphrase "I’ll be back" is also an irritation) The lame The 6th Day (**) paid lip service to eugenics while at heart being a very dumb shoot-‘em-up. The Running Man is more stylish than that (Thanks largely due to Harold Faltermeyer’s synth incidentals, incongruous with the action format) though is still fundamentally the same. Its pretence as a condemnation of media violence (yeah, okay, I made exactly the same point with Natural Born Shitheads, but it’s still valid, okay?!!?) is also clearly hypocritical. Or maybe it’s just seeing Republican Arnie pretending to be Liberal that jars. The rather silly about-face of the audience (Agnes’s line is amusingly overdubbed on UK TV to a softened "That boy’s one mean bugger") is also grating.
In acting terms, Richard Dawson, a real-life game show host, is particularly good, though Yaphet Kotto is wasted on a few meagre lines. Even less acceptably, women are tied up, pushed around, dressed in skimpy leotards and fantasise about rape while men attempt it. This is a film as pure testosterone; all feminine content specially isolated and removed. The fact that such scenes could be served up as entertainment is questionable.
Not the best of Arnold’s modest back catalogue yet not the worst either. Tripe, but watchable tripe.
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