The Long Walk has the distinction of being Stephen King’s first story. Though it was his sixth book published (the second under his Richard Bachman pseudonym), he began it in college several years before the likes of Carrie, Salem’s Lot, and The Shining. And one can certainly tell -it is a fairly simple and sustained horror premise -and the kind of story you might expect as a short-term narrative for something like The Twilight Zone. Very characteristic of King’s style and interests but in a blunter form than his novels would come to take on. Just like every other work of his it has long been pursued for a movie adaptation. Frank Darabont -whose career was so intertwined with King’s- was at one point heavily considering it; but the version that did make it to screen comes appropriately from Francis Lawrence, director of all but one of the Hunger Games movies, a franchise clearly built on a similar conceptual foundation (and perhaps even partially inspired by The Long Walk directly). Yet there is a grit not present in that series that Lawrence manages to bring to this movie, a far more chilling and effective variation of essentially the same premise articulated with both a much more intense harshness and surprisingly a greater determined poignancy.
Adapted by Strange Darling director JT Mollner, The Long Walk details its titular Hunger Games-style trial within the context of a dystopian America under totalitarian rule following a deadly and devastating civil war. Intended to build a work ethic and sense of patriotism but also a show of state authority clearly intended to discourage dissent, the Long Walk brings together fifty young men and boys from across the country to partake in a walk along Route 1 at a minimum speed and with no breaks for sleeping or relieving oneself. Escorted by a heavily armed military guard, anyone who stops walking, slows, or attempts to deviate from the route is swiftly and violently executed until only one remains -rewarded with a cash prize and the fulfillment of any chosen wish. Ray Garraty (Cooper Hoffman) made the unusual choice of volunteering for the Walk, supposedly allured by the prize money that could lift his mother out of poverty. Through the walk he forms a tight friendship with Peter McVries (David Jonsson), which threatens to be tested the longer they survive while others fall off.
It's curious to note the movie does not seemingly update the timeline of its apocalypse from when the book was published in 1979. The cameras that record and broadcast the Long Walk look a little old, there is no sign of modern phone or digital technology, the characters' clothing is not specific to any time period, and dialogue of the participants, specifically with regard to some casual misogyny and homophobia is native to an earlier era. Also, the dictatorial Major overseeing the Walk and played by Mark Hamill (his second consecutive King adaptation and a wildly different role from the first) exhibits an attitude of authoritarianism more linked to imagery from the 1980s than the forms we would recognize it as now. Thus the movie feels like a dystopia at a bit of disconnect, though not one that is lacking in resonance. Though the characters don’t quite behave in a relatable way, how they are framed by the Walk itself is notably compelling.
King has at times depicted youth characters in his works -especially boys- as preternaturally inclined towards levels of violence and sociopathy; and he is not entirely wrong in what seems to be an honest observation and reflection. Here he casts a bunch of boys in a desperate situation of survival -and yet it is no Lord of the Flies. We too might expect incredible violence, envy, sabotage, and just general toxic masculinity to erupt from this situation, and yet this story posits a desire for comradery and belonging superseding all that -that during the Long Walk, the boys won’t fight each other but form friendships. It is an interesting notion and one that speaks to a little more faith in young people. The most desperate wish of one walker Gary Barkovitch (Charlie Plummer) after accidentally causing the death of another, is to be accepted into the in-group he’s been ostracized from for that action.
And obviously the theme is centred in Ray and Peter, the most endearing friendship in a Stephen King film since The Shawshank Redemption. There is a kind of wisdom to Peter, who is under no illusions of winning but who has an idealistic goal in mind for if he does. While Ray is motivated out of a sense of hate and revenge (it is revealed the Major killed his father and if he wins he plans to ask for a gun to kill him in turn), Peter is motivated out of a sense of love for his family and community -looking to make their lives better and discouraging Ray from continuing the cycle of violence. Even through the Walk’s grimmest and darkest stretches, they maintain a charismatic rapport with one another. Not only is their chemistry superb though, but they are each giving powerful performances -it is Hoffman's best showcase yet, as he encapsulates a strong moral fortitude through the pressure and an intense emotional vulnerability that, in its relationship to a family tragedy, one can't help but connect to Hoffman's own. And Jonsson continues to vouch for himself as one of the most interesting, distinctly charismatic actors of his generation, with a potency of conviction here and his own fierce emotional subtleties. Though it's clear the story is leading in the direction of them being the last two, you can't bear to see either of them die.
Especially given the way the violence is doled out in this movie, much more viscerally than in The Hunger Games. From the first poor kid to get his jaw blown off, just about every death -to characters invested with discernible personality too by actors like Tut Nyuot, Ben Wang, Roman Griffin Davis, and Garrett Wareing- is cold and ruthless. Sometimes a named character will just be mercilessly shot in the background after collapsing. It is disturbing and eerie in a way that Lawrence's other movies have never quite achieved, conjuring up imagery that hits especially harshly in the modern day.
Lawrence's direction is fairly smooth and natural, emphasizing the intensity of the situation, the heat and the claustrophobia -even with such wide spaces around the freedom of movement for these boys is strictly limited. The tanks and the Major, glimpsed only on spare occasions, in a few key shots tower dramatically over the boys on the road, quashing any illusion of escape. Lawrence doesn't shy away from the story's less palatable corners -boys having to defecate extremely quickly on the open road or badly spraining an ankle that must then be walked on. Yet against the horror he casts moments of bonding and pathos with rich sincerity -especially between Ray and Peter, composed in relief to the reality around them and underscored by a lustrous if mildly overzealous score by Jeremiah Fraites. It especially comes out strong by the end, which plays out unexpectedly the bittersweet tragedy with perfect gravitas from its two leading men.
The Long Walk does end on a very abrupt note, perhaps designed to be a little more emotionally chilling than it is -and I do know that it differs substantially from the book. For a movie about constant walking though, it never gets tired -bolstered by its ever-lingering tension, its poignant themes on comradery over alienation, and in particular its two dominant performances. The walk may be long but the time is well-spent.
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