It happens that I watched sixteen films of varying lengths at the Montrose Playhouse this past weekend. But only one survived beyond Sunday night. “The Long Walk” (Lionsgate), showing now, is a satisfying and sometimes dazzling piece of filmmaking which brutally lays out one potential future for the sick, gun-soaked nation that the U.S. has become.
The film bullishly dives into its principal question: what would the U.S. look like under martial law; if an officer in the military were endowed with the power to murder fellow citizens who lose a tyrannical game? But—as if this were not ambitious enough—the film proceeds to an even more formidable problem: how to show on screen the twisted logic of the sacrifice of the scapegoat as a mechanism of cleansing and purifying a warring society (something studied and documented over years by the late French philosopher René Girard). One man is chosen by lottery from each state to compete in a long walk where forty-nine of the fifty will be murdered by the army as a penalty for dropping below three miles per hour or stepping off the assigned path. The film, based on a book by Stephen King, follows the walkers and attests to the formation of powerful bonds between men.
While there is undeniably most overlap with the 2012 blockbuster “The Hunger Games”—both films share the same production company and director—the film also reminded me of two other outstanding horror movies: “Escape Room” (2019) and this year’s “28 Years Later,” which I reviewed in June. But “The Long Walk” clings even more tightly to a 1948 short story by Shirley Jackson called “The Lottery”—here, a ballot is drawn of the residents of an ordinary small community, the loser being stoned to death. A number of plot assumptions are vital to the way in which both stories work. One, that the citizens have normalised the lottery; two, that those impacted accept their fate with serenity; three, that any kind of resistance is futile; and four, that society (temporarily) recovers after the scapegoat sacrifice.
The film is designed in a deceptively straightforward way. The camera simply tracks ahead of the men as they progress. The executions are generally shown explicitly, and carried out in a matter-of-fact way. The very real screenplay—mirroring the way younger American men speak in 2025–enables the characters to demonstrate the various strategies they have come up with to destabilise their rivals en route and win. I wondered initially how momentum would be kept up. But I very quickly got it; the filmmakers bring together several main stars and generously well-developed secondary parts to build an intense ensemble piece. This only works because of the excellent decision to forego a big-name Hollywood lead actor.
Ben Wang—whose performance in “Karate Kid Legends” I described in June as a “pleasure”—pulls it off again as Hank Olson. He more bobs that walks, head bowed forward, wearing white trainers rather than walking boots, gibbering on endlessly to mask his fear; once again his lines impeccably timed. And for the torture of motherhood we need look no further than at the mother of Ray Garraty (one of the main characters), played by Judy Greer. No dialog is necessary in her two short scenes—impending doom is chiselled onto her face.
But it is the loving relationship between Ray, played by Cooper Hoffman, and Peter McVries, played by David Jonsson, which forms the backbone of the plot. Three-hundred-odd miles in, having started off as complete strangers, they learn what it is to have a brother for the first time, reveal their secrets to each other, prop each other up when there is a risk of slowing down, wake one another when sleep falls. The real grit demanded of these two actors—and their director—such that the audience can easily “get” the plot should not be underestimated. This is especially true as they become increasingly confused about their own ethical North Stars—because when one wins the other will inevitably die. We may fantasise about a twist along the journey, but Mr Hoffman and Mr Jonsson repeatedly remind us that this is a zero-sum game. The camera view lengthens to demonstrate the heavily-armed guards watching their every step; and then closes in, pain etched onto the various characters’ faces underneath all the bluster.
The other masterstroke is the selection of vivid images as stand-ins for the disastrous spiritual state of the U.S. Here, a family enjoying a nice day out, rubbernecking, thermos on their picnic table; there, burned-out petrol stations, deserted houses and cars; at one point, children on their bikes ride alongside, hoping to witness one of the murders at close quarters. Each of these appears to the audience as a wee glance, just a few seconds long. But as embodiments they are beyond powerful. They turn the walk into a spectacle and hint at the destruction that preceded martial law. And reducing each walker to a number dehumanises them, enabling the military to murder without remorse—just following orders, if you will. While the Major—dolled up in a long trench coat and dark classes and barking the rules through a megaphone, standing on the back of a tank—reminded me of the gunnery sergeant (played by Louis Gossett Jr.) in “An Officer and a Gentleman” (1982), Mark Hamill plays this bizarre character like a giddy college-sports coach.
It was fortuitous timing that brought “The Long Walk” to the Playhouse on the same weekend as our own Montrose spectacle—the LandxSea festival. Citizen-against-citizen violence was very much on display there too, especially in “Yanuni” and “The Pickers.” All three films are propelled by outstanding story arcs, tight editing, well designed camerawork and first-class character development. But only one is fiction.
Adam Poole
15th September 2025
If you are interested in viewing this screening, please book your tickets here
