The Long Walk [Review]

Early one September day, I filed into a preview screening for a new movie: The Long Walk, the latest in a seemingly endless string of Stephen King adaptations. I’ll be quite frank with you, dear reader—I’m at the end of my rope with them. My interest is running on fumes. In 2025 alone, we’ve had four films: The Monkey, The Life of Chuck, The Long Walk, and the upcoming Running Man reboot with (ugh) Glen Powell. It feels like my entire life has been saturated with adaptations of King’s work, as if he were the only writer in the world. Having read several of his pieces, I understand the appeal, but not to the extent of justifying four movie adaptations a year. I swore sometime in 2024 that I would divest from King adaptations in search of more diverse fare. Well, I broke that pact, and I don’t regret it.

The Long Walk adapts his 1979 work, written before his first published novel, Carrie. The premise is simple: a group of boys—only boys, one from each state—are chosen to walk across the country until only one remains. The winner gets any wish granted. The story is set in an alternative past or a not-so-distant future, a detail left purposefully vague. This could be a past America that lost a global conflict (perhaps Vietnam) and wound up economically devastated, or a future one where the oligarchs have completely pilfered the lower and middle classes. This ambiguity is left to the viewer’s imagination. The rule is straightforward: walk or die.

For those sensing a similarity to another apocalyptic piece of media about young people pitted against each other, you’re on to something. The film is directed by Francis Lawrence, best known for The Hunger Games franchise. If you are a fan of those films, The Long Walk feels like a mature step up—a more bleak and graphic turn for those who grew up with Panem.

Besides its compelling premise, I was drawn in by the cast. The film stars David Jonsson (Rye Lane, Alien: Romulus) and Cooper Hoffman (Licorice Pizza), alongside a brilliant ensemble of young actors like Tut Nyuot, Ben Wang, Joshua Odjuck, and Samuel Clark. David Jonsson gives yet another standout performance; he is shaping up to be one of the most interesting actors of our time. His ability to manipulate every muscle under his skin—the slight glint in his eyes, the tightness of his lips—to convey something subtly different, emotions within emotions, is extraordinary. Jonsson plays Peter McVries, a young man whose jovial nature provides moral support for the group. He constantly tries to cheer up the others and keep them going, but a deep pain lies barely hidden beneath his smile. Not quite the “magical/useful Negro” trope that King is known for. Hoffman, son of the late actor Philip Seymour Hoffman, plays Raymond Garraty, a boy seeking revenge for his father’s execution. As the main characters, Garraty and McVries are on a collision course from the very beginning, heading toward an inevitable, tragic standoff.

This leads to my primary complaints about the film. Much of the runtime is spent on Cooper Hoffman’s Garraty, exploring his motivations and tragic backstory. But in the 108-minute duration, none of that depth is spared for the other boys. We learn in passing that one might be married, a detail used as a macabre joke when the boys sing after his death. Only one loss—that of Arthur Baker, played by Tut Nyuot—truly moved me. Nyuot’s performance is powerful; his physicality as his body gives up and he grapples with his impending end is heart-wrenching. You watch the light leave his eyes as his legs keep moving, begging the others to give his rosary to his grandmother. Baker’s character, and others like him, deserved more development so their deaths would resonate without relying on graphic shock. Our main antagonist, The Major, also suffers from this; he is so two-dimensional I wondered if he were real or merely a manifestation of the oppressive system. We learn one walker is his illegitimate son, but the reveal lacks context. Is the Major a family man who preaches traditional values? Does this secret threaten his position? We don’t know.

The Long Walk arrives at a time when suicide rates among men and boys are at an all-time high, faith in institutions is rapidly falling, and many are falling into the manosphere trap. In the film, the boys are picked at random, resulting in a racially mixed group with no apparent racial hierarchy (though homophobia is heavily present). They separate by little more than vibes, yet each knows there can only be one winner. On this surface-level playing field, if you can walk, you can win. But it’s not fair. Some are more physically fit; others have food allergies, poor shoes, or medical conditions. It is not fair. The film dissects the illusion that any man can make it if he’s just willing to sacrifice others to get there—after all, there can only be one. The boys only briefly consider solidarity; from the beginning, collective action never enters their minds. They are picked off one by one and forced to carry on as if nothing happened. To allow grief or shock to touch them is to lose their advantage. They must disconnect from their own humanity—for what? For a prize. An indistinguishable reward of money, or women, or even an elephant, but forever haunted by the ghosts of the boys snuffed out in their prime.

The original story mirrors the experience of growing up during the Vietnam draft, where young men were shipped overseas in a futile attempt at American imperialism, only to return marred, mangled, and void of sanity—if they returned at all. In 2025, the story remains painfully relevant. The American machine needs men to buy into its belief in power and glory. It promises that the path to your heart’s desire is to just get on the road and never stop: never stop working, never stop enlisting, never stop grinding, never stop walking. At the end, you’ll find your prize. Those who fell behind? Who lost their lives? They just didn’t have it. But you’re different. You’re strong! Don’t think about helping the boy beside you—that will slow you down. Don’t think about joining together—it’s every man for himself. And if you find yourself with bloodied feet, swollen ankles, and barely able to breathe? It’s better if you just give up. Take the bullet and let the others lead. We drill this into men from infancy: they must be tough; they must keep going. Asking for help is weakness. How will they afford the nice house, the expensive car, and the hot wife if they aren’t willing to die for it? Hustle! Fight! Or die! But it’s a con. A losing game. At the end of the walk, there is nothing—just more road. You get to the end, and the road stretches on behind you and ahead of you, with no one left beside you. There can only be one winner.

I thoroughly enjoyed the film, despite its desperate need for more character development. For a 100-minute movie essentially just about walking, it held my attention completely. It is highly recommended for those who grew up on The Hunger Games and now crave something more mature as they gain class consciousness.

4/5 Bloody Shoes