Walk or die. This is the simple premise for The Long Walk (2025), adapted from Stephen King’s 1979 horror novel. In dystopian America, under totalitarian military rule after being devastatedby war, 50 boys take part in the annual ‘long walk’. The walk begins at the American-Canadian border in Maine, but has no finish line or time limit. Instead, it continues until only one participant is left standing. The Long Walk plays with the concept of a death march, where prisoners of war walk significant distances from one location to the next. Most notably, armed guards often execute those unable to keep pace. In the film, walkers are shot for falling belong a speed of three miles per hour (four mph in the original novel), providing plenty of tense moments. The horror is not supernatural, instead stemming from the limits of the human body and mind. Walkers submitting to exhaustion and the side effects of exertion doesn’t require any suspension of disbelief from the audience. Viewers question how long they could survive constant walking without being struck by leg cramps, sun stroke, or an internal haemorrhage.
After my first viewing, I heard fellow moviegoers refer to the plot as “predictable”. To an extent, this is true. The plot of the ‘long walk’ immediately establishes every character except one will die. But this fatalistic, nihilistic narrative is intentional from King. The Long Walk is a commentary on the Vietnam War (1955-1975), providing direct parallels to the drafting of young men by the military and the long, drawn out suffering they faced as a result. Also worth noting is The Major (Mark Hamill), a relentlessly cruel and powerful figure, being the one in charge of the walk.
The movie emphasises the importance of the journey, not the destination, and focuses on the importance of friendships made along the way. While this is cliché, the characters do form genuinely heartwarming bonds, particularly Pete McVries (David Jonsson) and Ray Garraty (Cooper Hoffman). Their growing love for each other is a central aspect of the narrative. How masculinity and sexuality interact is a key theme, though the tender moments are balanced with humorous ones. As with all of King’s works, racism, misogyny, and homophobia are heavily present in the original book. Although there’s a ham-fisted attempt at diversity by including one Black walker and two Native Americans, all three are racial stereotypes rather than fully-formed characters.
The movie adaptation thrives where the original novel falls down. Not only is there a more diverse representation of American youth, race and class are core to their characters. Collie Parker (Joshua Odjick) rebels against the armed guards, symbolising how the Sioux have continuously fought back against the US Government. This is a stark contrast to the passive Native Americans depicted in the book, which utilises the racist concept of the ‘noble savage’. McVries is a phenomenal example of how to create a complex, nuanced Black character for screen.
Director Francis Lawrence excels at modernising the story for contemporary audiences. His choice to televise the long walk, reminding the economically depressed nation about the value of hard work, is reminiscent of his work in The Hunger Games (2013-present). More important is the decision to focus on moments of light within dark times. Where King sees a dreary walk towards inevitable death, Lawrence sees the resilience of the human spirit during hardship. Although the ending is drastically changed, it delivered the catharsis necessary to satisfy a film audience. It also makes it clear we need to do more than endure oppression. We need to take direct action to stop suffering.