The first rumblings I heard of an adaptation of Stephen King‘s The Long Walk came shortly before the start of the coronavirus pandemic, when it was announced that Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark director Andre Øvredal was at the helm. Being a fan of his Scary Stories, I kept an eye on the project over the years, only for him to deflect any questions about the project every six months, until he eventually parted ways with the movie, as The Hunger Games regular Francis Lawrence took over directorial duties. Despite Lawrence having delivered multiple, showier takes on dystopic competitions, his The Long Walk, after all these delays, manages to deliver an effective reminder that we’re all on our own long walk — trudging towards death, by our own volition or by someone else’s arbitrary judgment, and all we have is those moments we share with others before that expected outcome. Basically, The Long Walk sure is a depressing, effective experience!

Set in the not-too-distant future (or maybe even 2025’s past?), America has become a totalitarian regime where a yearly competition is held to build the country’s morale. The competition is simple: each state has one boy selected to participate in “The Long Walk,” in which you have to walk longer than every other competitor, maintaining a speed of at least three miles per hour, or be shot. The last boy standing gets both immense riches and has one wish granted to him, along with the “pride” of helping motivate the country by showcasing his resiliency.

The reason I wanted to highlight how this project has been in limbo over the last five years (with first attempts at bringing it to life dating back to the ’80s, with George A. Romero attached) is that there’s an expectation that movies, especially genre movies, that face production setbacks rarely live up to the anticipation of fans. Luckily, however Lawrence’s vision of The Long Walk differs from Øvredal’s (or Romero’s or Frank Darabont’s, for that matter), the core strength of King’s story remains intact, working both as a superficial, depressing journey for our protagonists and an allegory for many heavier ideas.

While The Long Walk wasn’t King’s first published novel, it was the first one he wrote, having started it when he was in college in the ’60s. Even being somewhat aware of the state of the world a few decades before I was born (I’m young and handsome, mind you), it’s hard not to see the obvious similarities between the premise of The Long Walk and the Vietnam War. At the time, countless young men were being sent to the other side of the world for a conflict they likely didn’t understand, largely out of devotion to their country and the assumption that their sacrifices would magically pay off in some way. The Vietnam War marked a period of some of the lowest morale of the country, not only due to the horrific deaths happening in another land, but also because the conflict was being captured on video cameras for the first time, broadcasting all of the horrors to viewers back home who could see all manner of atrocities being enacted while they ate dinner. Sadly, while King was using not-so-subtle allegories for a very specific conflict, the core components of this dystopia feel just as relevant in 2025 as they did when he wrote the story.

The first strength of Lawrence’s The Long Walk is the core story: despite countless dystopic stories being told in recent years, from Lawrence’s many Hunger Games installments to Netflix’s Squid Game (and another King dystopia coming to life later this year with The Running Man), The Long Walk strips away the convoluted rules and regulations that so many successors had to create. The challenge of the walk doesn’t seem all that difficult, leading all the competitors to think they have a chance of winning, only for their own lives to be snatched away from them as soon as they begin to falter. As soon as the walk starts, a ticking clock begins, injecting a narrative momentum into the experience that other, more complex dystopias have a harder time navigating. Much like how easy it is to get sucked into any type of reality show when you watch a few episodes, sticking around just to see who ends up the winner, viewers will be invested in The Long Walk, if only to see who gets killed off next and what caused their downfall.

The next strength of The Long Walk is the ensemble cast of young performers. Cooper Hoffman or David Jonsson might not be household names, but they’re both powerhouse performers who bring a natural charm and authenticity to the harrowing ordeal. Hoffman’s Garraty and Jonsson’s McVries might be the focal point of the story, but they’re both supported by a variety of characters who all have their own motivations for winning the walk. Much like how the premise of The Long Walk is enough to get viewers invested, not having to rely on overly ambitious mythology to entice audiences, Lawrence put a priority on talent over fame. Like a number of other movies hitting theaters in recent years, The Long Walk easily would have made millions more dollars if it had opted to star musicians trying to pivot to acting or TikTokers trying to pivot to big-screen stardom; instead, the cast feels like complete unknowns, which adds another layer of authenticity to the experience. Actors like Garrett Wareing, Joshua Odjick, Tut Nyuot, Charlie Plummer, and Ben Wang bring their own quirks and idiosyncrasies to their characters, highlighting the diversity of how all these boys bring their own dreams, desires, and hurdles to the journey. Mark Hamill is easily the most recognizable name on the cast list, though his Major only has a few minutes of screen time.

The delays in the development of The Long Walk have resulted in an unexpected parallel for King fans: two highly anticipated, long-delayed adaptations of the author’s beloved works hit theaters within months of each other, both of which emphasize the importance of the moments that make up a life. Mike Flanagan’s The Life of Chuck was released earlier this year, with its big message being that life doesn’t necessarily have to amount to a major, earth-shattering goal, but it’s about trying to find as many small moments of joy as you possibly can, as well as how your own joy can help bring joy to others. The Long Walk, with its focus on characters from all walks of life connecting with one another on a journey that only one of them will survive, similarly places emphasis on how making friends for three minutes, three hours, or three days is better than not making them at all. The difference, though, is that The Long Walk is a much more depressing take on the concept, as opposed to the much more hopeful The Life of Chuck.

It’s worth noting that I haven’t read The Long Walk (largely because I don’t know how to read), so I can’t accurately say how it compares to the experience of reading it. I do know there are a number of changes from the source material — the movie has 50 boys compared to the book’s 100, the movie has a minimum of three miles per hour compared to the book’s four, and the winner and their motivations, along with many characters’ backstories, also have changes to seemingly make for both a more compelling movie and to keep even the most devout King fans on their toes. This also could mean devout King fans will think this movie is absolute garbage, so please don’t come for me if that’s you (again, I don’t know how to read, back off!).

It’s hard to give my full endorsement to The Long Walk, mainly because it’s just such a damn bummer. This understandably means that it’s also quite effective, thanks to the simplicity of the concept crafted by King and the impressive ensemble of young performers. Many viewers will understandably draw connections between the events of the movie and our current political climate (which I opt not to do because it’s pretty easy to draw those connections and it’s also very depressing), which only solidifies the strength of King’s concept and how it’s just as reflective of society in the ’60s and ’70s as it is today. The Long Walk is both hard to watch and hard to look away from, though will hopefully help remind audiences to savor every moment aboveground that you can get.

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