The Long Walk Review - Challenging, Violent, Captivating

Chase Gifford
Sep 12
5 min read

“It is not the strength of the body that counts, but the strength of the spirit.” – J.R.R. Tolkien

Isolation thrillers are limited by the very nature of what it means to be isolated. It can mean stationary in some instances – Phone Booth, despite the contrasting bustling New York city surrounding him, he might as well be a thousand miles from the nearest human yet he’s stuck in a phone booth in the busiest city in the world. It can be mobile but still within a confined area – Alone is a prime example of not strictly being stuck but never being able to leave what can only be described as a living hell. She can technically leave, there’s just the tiny issue of a serial killer hot on her heels. In Phone Booth, Stu is confined by the booth and by his own secrets suddenly being put on display. In Alone, Jessica is confined by the pursuit of her intended killer who, for his own hidden reasons, is vehemently hunting her down. Both by his intentions and her physical location of a rural forest isolates her from any semblance of help.

For the poor souls in The Long Walk, their isolation is that of an endless road that is for them, without life beyond its borders. For most of them, the remaining hours of their lives will be confined to an isolated roadway, however simple it appears, it drips with threat of death from people “just following orders.” They will begin this task with hope and end it in tears, severe exhaustion, and unadulterated pain and fear. They are victims of their own decisions, yes, but not without great influence from a dystopian reality that promises to reward them should they follow through with this heinous, government sanctioned act of “patriotism.” The Running Man, The Hunger Games, The Maze Runner, Battle Royale, all films with a running theme of government approved barbarism often televised for the undiscerning modern audience.

JT Mollner (Strange Darling) adapted the screenplay for The Long Walk from a Stephen King novel published in 1979 under King’s pseudonym, Richard Bachman. Given the nature of the story it’s taken until now for it to find its way to the big screen. It was, for decades, deemed too merciless and difficult to fund. It’s also a narrative that focuses heavily on the internal struggles of its characters who are, quite simply, walking great distances. So much of this film is reliant on the performances requiring a cast of younger actors willing to confront such a heavy subject however simple it may seem at surface level – walk or die. Simple enough but so much within it unloads a myriad of both physical and psychological turmoil. And as the audience, it confronts an uncomfortable reality we all face that often consists of immoral actions, scattershot violence, and spineless, ruthless political figures that either refuse to act or intently act in contrasting interests of the American people.

The true tragedy of The Long Walk is that it was written forty-six years ago and it’s as timely as ever. Its themes of facing the status quo, the powerful versus the powerless are more prevalent than ever as we stare down the barrel of a hostile takeover actively perpetrated by a literal fascist, Nazi wannabe. It’s a means of creating friction and outright caustic, even hostile interactions among the non-elites. But it’s all distraction from the true problem and it comes from the top as it slowly, with a viscous texture and malodorous scent, oozes its way into our lives as we confusingly still attack one another rather than face the source head-on. Movies are often an escape so when one comes along that faces those very same themes and issues, it can be a difficult watch. Introduce graphic violence, gun violence no less, and suddenly you have a film that can potentially be quite divisive.

With a story like The Hunger Games, it features similar themes but can provide moments of hope and humor. It can create moments of escape whereas The Long Walk is firmly, hellishly, stuck on this road to nowhere. We can’t go anywhere that these characters cannot go so like them, we are stuck with the winding road and with their wandering thoughts, however hopeful, fantastical or downright despairing they may be. Like them, we can only imagine life beyond this all-encompassing Orwellian reality that promises either great reward or an ignominious end at the sound of a gun.

So why are these young men walking? The official synopsis is to inspire patriotism and hope in a struggling post-war America. The truth? It’s a form of population control. It’s a means of control outright. It’s a show of governmental strength in the face of any kind of proposed opposition. From our perspective it is a critique of the Vietnam War-era draft, the futility of senseless sacrifice, and a society that uses its youth as a means of entertainment for an authoritarian government. Scarily prophetic.

The Long Walk is an arduous, trying experience but is also thrillingly dangerous. Its cast is eclectic and tragically endearing. Even the less likable characters have a way of finding their humanity in the end, however late it may seem. The two leads, Cooper Hoffman and David Jonsson are particularly enthralling, expressing humor and suddenly being violently thrown into anguish or physical torture through dehydration or a deteriorating body crumbling from the countless miles and decaying footwear. They are a revelation of brotherhood and hope, but human in their wavering between their aspirations and their perceived inevitable final moments at the behest of an armed soldier, their gun pointed intently at the participants’ skulls.

All of this stems from the persuasion of a man named The Major, his goals riddled with threats and tired, army-laden terminology with antiquated motivational drivel that in the context of The Long Walk come off as more intimidating than inspiring. A perspective not lost whatsoever on The Major. Mark Hamill is an outspoken critic of the current regime and an activist for hopeful and meaningful legislation. He is heavily critical of governmental overreach and outright fascism. Knowing this and watching him embody The Major is nothing short of poetic and undeniably amusing. He is a menacing presence throughout this body-breaking demonstration of unchecked power. In a film designed to hit you over the head with anxiety and grimace inducing hopelessness, he is the source of it all.

The Long Walk is powerful and surprisingly poignant. The violence is extreme and indiscriminate. It’s unabashedly visceral and graphic in its indifference to the callousness of the violence. It’s regrettably timely and makes no attempts to offer sanctuary from the misery and inevitability of our own future. It’s dystopian in a simplistic physical execution with weighted psychological implications that threaten our freedoms and ability to criticize the disease-like authoritarianism staring us down at this very moment. Looking for a respite from this living nightmare? Look elsewhere.