The Long Walk is worth every single brutal step.

Brutal and yet heartfelt, tautly presented in a way that belies its complexity, The Long Walk, based on a 1979 Stephen King novel written under his pseudonym of Richard Bachman, is a harsh dystopian nightmare full of good performances and layers of depth that unravel gradually as we follow fifty young men chosen by lottery to participate in an event first presented as a rewarding contest that is gradually revealed to be a sadistic, Hunger Games-esque punitive measure meted out by a wicked totalitarian regime. Though written in the seventies and taking place in an alternate version of them, the dark political undertones will speak to contemporary viewers, much as they must have to readers all those years ago.

            In a dark, foreboding, alternate reality version of the United States, presumably after some type of civil war, though only ever referred to as “economic difficulties,” the plot centers on the Long Walk, an annual “contest” in which a teenage boy from every state is chosen by lottery to walk hundreds of miles, the winner to receive untold (and unspecified) riches and one “wish.” The idea being that, in these troubled times, these boys can improve their families’ lives.

            While the film offers glimpses of many of the boys, it ends up focusing largely on five, Ray (Cooper Hoffman), a young man who has more to accomplish on the walk than just financial gain; Pete (David Jonsson), a friendly, moral compass for the group; Billy (Garrett Wareing), who seems to know more about the long walk than anyone else; Art (Tut Nyuot), who desperately wants to earn his way out of poverty, and Gary (Charlie Plummer), who taunts the others. There are others, but these five get the most screen time, and what strikes the viewer early on is that, despite the fact that there are apparently millions and millions of dollars waiting for the winner somewhere at the end of the road, the boys don’t do anything to sabotage each other. Part of this has to be with the fact that if their gait drops below 3 mph, they are given a warning. Then a second warning. If they get a third and final warning, they are shot in the head. This is in line with the well-crafted slow reveal of the nature of the walk and the country in which the boys live. What comes across first as an altruistic opportunity turns out also to be some type of punishment to society by taking away some of their young, all presided over by the  Major (Mark Hamill, oozing toxic machismo and menace), who follows the boys along with his soldiers. If this reminds you of the Hunger Games, it did me, too, but keep in mind Suzanne Collins was seventeen-years-old when this one originally came out. It goes to show you that good stories come back around, especially as the world from which they spring seems to change less and less.

            As the walk progresses, we learn a little more about each boy’s story and why they’re there, getting glimpses of this nightmarish version of the United States they live in, both from their subtle dialogue and references, to the bleak, effective set design and cinematography that portrays a ghostly, largely empty countryside, the occasional wrecked car, bus, or burnt out building dotting the highway. Add the spectators who watch morosely from the sidelines, and the effect is chilling. As the walk progresses, it feels less and less like a joyful, hopeful contest to win, but rather a level of hell to escape from. They can’t sleep, can’t stop to use the bathroom, nothing, the voice of the soldiers issuing their warnings and the ensuing gunshots drifting from behind, getting closer and closer to our protagonists.

            All the boys turn in good performances, as does Hamill as the evil Major. He seems to be enjoying a second or third act in his career as a juicy character actor (I’ve said before how I dislike the phrase, but sometimes it just works), especially in horror projects. Each of the young men shows promise, hinting at long careers to come.

            Missing from the film is the backstory on what exactly happened in the country to bring us here, which ultimately is not a bad thing, for a lengthy flashback or long-winded political diatribe would have distracted from the tension of the journey. It is a journey of a country that either no longer exists or one that is at least in great peril. Though each of these boys are in competition with each other, as they go forward, they lean more and more on each other, drawing on each other for support and their very survival.

            But don’t be fooled. This is not a work of King’s in the vein of  The Shawshank Redemption. This is not a film about the power of enduring friendship and how hope can get us through anything. The Long Walk is brutal, pessimistic, and a horror film in every sense of the word. Horrible in its violence, and horrible in its plausibility. One of the best King adaptations I’ve seen in a long time.