“The Long Walk” Adds Hope to Richard Bachman’s Nihilistic Tale
Richard Bachman is known to be a bit of a nihilist. The pseudonym of Stephen King, Bachman’s novels are typically devoid of supernatural elements and the bittersweet redemption often found in stories from the Master of Horror. Usually set in a bleak reality where men are pitted against one another, early Bachman books offer harsh societal commentary through the dystopian lense of a nightmarish future. No novel demonstrates this unflinching honesty like The Long Walk. King’s first written novel, The Long Walk is a cruel and violent commentary on the Vietnam War and US draft that filled its ranks. Yet a powerful new adaptation from Francis Lawrence feels shockingly relevant nearly 60 years later.
The rules of the Long Walk are surprisingly simple. Fifty young men must walk above 3.0 miles per hour until only one remains on their feet. Should a Walker dip below this pace, they will receive a series of rigid warnings then exit the walk by “getting their ticket.” But rather than an embarrassing trip back home, a ticket is Long Walk slang for a bullet to the head. Ray Garraty (Cooper Hoffman) and Peter McVries (David Jonsson) make fast friends as the Walk begins and stick together through the harrowing journey, As they trudge on over hundreds of miles, they watch other friends and ostensible enemies fall to the faceless soldiers and their imposing guns. They’re occasionally cheered on by the Major (Mark Hamill), an imposing commander who wears his mirrored sunglasses long into the night. With brutal encouragement, he spurs the young men on, claiming their sacrifice is needed to combat an epidemic of “laziness” and inspire the common man to lofty ambition.
Though remarkably true to Bachman’s 1979 novel (originally written in 1967), Lawrence’s updated version feels frighteningly real. Harsh and capitalistic, the Major is a thinly veiled approximation of the heartless Republican ideology designed to prop up the wealthy and powerful elite with systems built entirely on the backs of its citizens. The Walkers are told that it’s not only their duty, but a noble act to throw their lives away on the buzzsaw of nationalism and that their senseless deaths will be reframed as an enviable sacrifice to the industrious gods. But like Bachman’s original novel, the story highlights the blatant fallacy in this ridiculous ideal. Each one has volunteered for this grisly competition with the thin hope that they will somehow win an enormous cash prize and one impossibly granted wish. They compete against each other for the slim chance to improve their own impoverished lives instead of focusing their attention on the system perpetuating their misery. Their deaths become examples to the millions watching from home: if you stop working, you will die and no one can afford to help you survive.
Despite the film’s admittedly grim premise, Lawrence injects some much-needed hope and levity. Rather than a surly, yet strangely endearing everyman, McVries is an unbridled optimist. Selfless to a fault, he seems more concerned with supporting his friends than surviving until the end of the Walk. Jonsson adds vulnerability and charisma to this perplexing character, ripping our hearts out along the way. Hoffman is a likeable protagonist forced to reckon with the corrosive nature of murderous revenge as he walks toward the reality of oncoming death. Tut Nyuot, Ben Wang, Garrett Wareing, and Charlie Plummer fill out the rest of this disparate cast; a likeable band of doomed comrades. We form attachments to these relatable young men and enjoy their easy chemistry, allowing ourselves to forget that only one can survive and each character’s brutal death could be just moments away. By leaning into character, Lawrence navigates a deceptively simple premise with a taught script from JT Mollner and a cast full of endearing young men who aren’t afraid to show tenderness.
Fans of Bachman’s novel will be shocked at Lawrence’s striking alterations to the ending. Not only does the Walk’s outcome differ dramatically from its source material, but Mollner offers a bit of catharsis. While King’s novel can be seen as a reflection of a brutal chapter in American life, Lawrence takes a more proactive approach. Both versions paint a troubling picture of a working class duped into cannibalizing itself, but Lawrence and Mollner make wise alterations to meet this painful political moment. A lot has changed in the decades since an angry, young King first penned this revolutionary story, but some frightening truths remain the same. Lawrence’s vision of The Long Walk suggests that it’s not enough to simply weather the storm. If we want to see systemic change, we must do something to create the future we want.
Jenn Adams is a writer, podcaster, and film critic from Nashville, TN. Find her @jennferatu.