How far would you go to help your family rise out of debilitating poverty? For most of us, there isn’t any limit to the extent we’d push ourselves when it comes to protecting and providing for our loved ones, even if it means forcing ourselves far beyond our physical and mental capabilities. However, the world has a tendency to break down those who usually have the most desire to help, which is why the most generous people are usually the most easily exploited. This is something that Stephen King used as the foundation for The Long Walk, his 1979 novel (published under his iconic pen name of Richard Bachman) in which a group of young men (each representing one of the fifty states in the United States) are selected to participate in a grueling activity known as “The Long Walk”, a competition where they all need to walk for an indefinite amount of time until only one remains. Amongst the recruits is Ray Garratt, who is adamant in participating in order to get even with the organisers, who he reveals were the reason for his father’s death when Ray was a child. What seems like a relatively simple task turns out to be far more complex, especially when it becomes clear that those in charge – in particular the mysterious and insidious Major – have ulterior motives that put all of them in danger. There have been many failed attempts to bring the novel to life on screen, but it has now finally come to fruition, under the careful guidance of Francis Lawrence, who proves his skill when it comes to dystopian fiction by tackling a story that may be more simple in comparison to many of King’s usual works, but has layers of complexity that are not notable at first, but gradually reveal themselves as the film progresses. Far from the definitive adaptation of one of the author’s books, but nonetheless very entertaining and captivating in its own right, The Long Walk is a thoroughly entertaining blend of character drama, psychological thriller and adventure, handcrafted by a director who rarely receives the acclaim he deserves for his captivating genre films.

The Long Walk is an exceptionally resonant work, primarily because of how it essentially explores desperation and how something like widespread poverty can push ordinary people to make impossible choices. In the novel and this adaptation, they are the victims of a system that sees the exploitation of the working class as an opportunity to become even more wealthy, simply through the careful manipulation of those who don’t realise what is being done around them. King has never been hesitant to highlight the fact that he is vehemently against authoritarian power in any way, and this continues his ongoing crusade against those who seek to oppress the meek and poor. In this instance, we have the state representing a kind of all-seeing power, entirely apathetic to the conditions under which their people live, and who have decided to turn human suffering (which they rebrand as heroic endurance) into a spectacle, and in the process, consolidating violence as an integral part of the culture. There is no choice, and even the act of electing to participate in this grueling challenge is the result of careful manipulation, the pride of being able to simply survive clouding the judgement of these young men as they attempt to pull themselves out of the cycle of poverty. It’s a harrowing depiction of the monetisation of suffering, and how people getting killed in cold blood can be redefined as entertainment if audiences can be convinced in the process. Lawrence who tackled similar themes in his adaptations of Suzanne Collins’ Hunger Games series, is certainly not a stranger to the idea of weaponising desperation as a form of entertainment, and throughout this film, he draws on interesting themes relating to masculinity, friendship and solidarity in the face of opposition, and how one cannot be obedient to a culture that is continously using them as pawns in a game played by shadowy figures, who view them as nothing but numbers, statistics to be blasted out a megaphone at the next brutally violent event in which the cycle simply continues unabated and with seemingly even more suffering.

On occasion, we find a film from a previous era in which roughly half a dozen young actors were gathered before the peak of their fame, or even when they were entirely unknown, and we marvel at how any film could have attracted such a staggering cast, which is often only realised in hindsight. We can sometimes predict when this is happening in real time, as is the case with The Long Walk – most of the actors at the heart of the film are not newcomers, but they’re far from having accomplished the precise breakthrough that many predict they’ll inevitably achieve. In short, Lawrence has somehow assembled the next generation of young male movie stars, and we can see every one of these actors becoming prominent voices in the industry going forward. What makes this film so remarkable is that it truly is an ensemble effort – some of the actors are more prominent than others, but they’re all part of a collective. Cooper Hoffman has been building himself a tremendous body of work, having collaborated with the likes of Paul Thomas Anderson, Jason Reitman and Gregg Araki, and managing to blend in perfectly with their worlds. Lawrence manages to pull out yet another fantastic performance from Hoffman, who is paired in the co-lead position with David Jonsson, another exceptionally promising young actor who has already piqued the curiosity of an industry that will hopefully continue to give him the exposure he deserves. Supporting parts by Charlie Plummer, Ben Wang, Garrett Wareing and Tut Nyuot flesh out the central cast of protagonists, while Mark Hamill is slightly weak as the sinister Major, never fully embracing the villainy, but still doing what he can to embody pure evil. It’s a very strong cast, and everyone is doing exceptionally interesting work, capturing the despair and fear likely felt by these young men as they attempt to make sense of a world they simply cannot truly understand.

The aspects that make The Long Walk so memorable are all to do with its profound simplicity: this is a film about a group of young men tasked with one simple assignment: start walking and keep going until only one remains. It’s such a straightforward concept that we’re surprised it took so long to actually become the foundation for a film, especially since it doesn’t require too many resources to do effectively. The director embraces the story’s simplicity, using its linear structure to build a slow, suffocating tension that builds as the film progresses. The pacing reflects the walk itself: unforgiving, repetitive and truly exhausting, an unstoppable feat of human resilience that would destroy the body and soul of anyone who participates. The psychological decline of the participants is gradual and unsettling, and the filmmaking ensures that we are always kept engaged, while also being held at arm’s length for the majority of the running time. The cinematography is simple but striking, emphasising the vast open spaces and endless roads, reaffirming both the sense of physical isolation these young men feel from the rest of the world, who watch from the sidelines, and the inescapable nature of this event. Similarly, the sound design is crucial: the rhythm of the footsteps combines with the increasingly laboured breathing and the sounds of distant machines, both observing and guiding, create an unholy cacophony of suffering, being an assault on the senses in a way that can only be crafted by someone at the very peak of their craft. Lawrence is not one for over-stylised filmmaking, choosing instead to do something far more subtle but equally as brutal, allowing the violence to go from shocking to passive, moving from the centrepiece of the scenes towards the beginning of the film, to just another event occurring in the background towards the end. It strengthens the emotional impact of this film and becomes the foundation for something truly and relentlessly disconcerting.

There are many ways to read The Long Walk as both a novel and a film in terms of its central message: it’s a story of how brotherhood and solidarity can overcome institutional evil, as well as a glimpse into the future in a way that doesn’t offer any apocalyptic visions, but instead a vast bleakness from where all escape is seemingly futile. However, what truly defines this film, and the reason it manages to be so effective, is the simplicity with which it approaches its core ideas – Lawrence is not seeking to redefine the genre or say anything we’ve not heard many times before, but rather to create something that is both entertaining and thought-provoking, which is as good a reason as any for this film to exist. It’s exceptionally well-cast, and we can imagine a world where every one of these young actors comes to define the future of the industry, with Hoffman and Jonsson in particular being extremely promising. More than anything else, The Long Walk proves that a simple concept, when executed well, can create something truly extraordinary and compelling, a straightforward thriller that uses tone, imagery, sound and implication to create an unsettling atmosphere, immersing the audience in a state of deep despair as we quietly and methodically follow these young men, observing their attempts to simply survive, and not realising that, even if they manage to get out of this competition alive, they have experienced suffering that no one should ever have to endure – and when all hope has been lost, simply being able to step forward is an act of extreme bravery. Captivating and entertaining, but also profoundly bleak and frequently quite unsettling, The Long Walk is a solid and reliable thriller that knows just how to capture the audience’s attention, slowly and methodically unravelling into something far more complex than any of us had anticipated at the start.