The Long Walk

Francis Lawrence pares down King’s dystopia but leaves little beneath the surface

The dystopian young adult genre dominated the 2010s, but like most trends, it quickly burned out. Oversaturation left audiences weary after an endless barrage of near-identical stories. While a few franchises, most notably The Hunger Games with its recent spin-offs, have tried to keep the fire alive, viewers largely moved on. Francis Lawrence, who directed every Hunger Games installment except the first, is determined to prove the subgenre still has life, returning with a new adaptation of Stephen King’s The Long Walk (2025).

Set in a bleak America, the story follows a group of teenage boys conscripted through a lottery into a brutal national event: the Long Walk. The rules are merciless. Keep pace or be executed by the armed escorts led by the Major (Mark Hamill). The prize is immense wealth; the price is certain death for everyone but one. Among the walkers are Raymond (Cooper Hoffman) and Peter (David Jonsson), who forge a fragile friendship as they march toward oblivion.

The premise inevitably recalls The Hunger Games: state-sanctioned violence against youth, broadcast as national entertainment. That resemblance isn’t coincidental. King’s novel, written in 1979, is often cited as a major influence on Suzanne Collins’ bestselling series. Both works are meditations on the expendability of young men in unpopular wars—Vietnam in The Long Walk, Iraq in The Hunger Games—and on how televised images of conflict desensitize the public. Collins sharpened her critique through reality-TV satire, while Lawrence here strips King’s story to its bare essentials: walk, endure, survive.

That pared-down focus is both strength and weakness. On one hand, the simplicity prevents the film from collapsing under self-importance, and its moments of tension—an untied shoe, a stumble that threatens to be fatal—are sharp and effective. On the other, the narrative offers little depth beyond its surface. Deaths become predictable, telegraphed by who gets dialogue and who doesn’t, and stretches of the film sag under the weight of its own monotony. Lawrence stages the executions with blunt cruelty, wisely avoiding glamorization, but the repetition leaves the film dragging.

What rescues The Long Walk from mediocrity are its leads. Hoffman, son of the late Philip Seymour Hoffman—whose final screen work was under Lawrence’s direction—delivers a performance of quiet charisma, making Raymond a believable everyman. Jonsson, meanwhile, builds on his eclectic résumé (Rye Lane (2023), Alien: Romulus (2024)) with a portrayal brimming with warmth and unforced optimism. He commands the screen with ease and suggests an actor ready for more demanding roles. Together, the pair lend the film an emotional center it would otherwise lack.

Ultimately, The Long Walk is a lean but limited entry in the dystopian YA canon. Its premise remains compelling, but Lawrence’s refusal to probe beyond the basics leaves too many unanswered questions and too much dead air between jolts of tension. Still, the central friendship—brought vividly to life by Hoffman and Jonsson—provides enough heart to carry the film further than its thin script deserves.

6.6/10