Amazon Prime’s The Runner is set up as a brisk, hectic thriller where a loving mother and analytical lawyer, Maia (a wooden Gal Gadot), literally races across London to save her son (Rory Wilmot) from an anonymous kidnapper (Damian Lewis). The film’s story hinges on momentum and fast-paced action. Yet, in a sad irony, the tension feels, well, absent. The film aspires to be as intriguing and visually witty as Run Lola Run. It also wants Speed’s warranted escalations and tries to be a real-time movie with constant momentum like Before Sunset. But unfortunately, despite those impressive aspirations, The Runner ends up a pale imitation of those classics.
There’s nothing that stands out about the cinematography, and unfortunately, what swings Anthony Dod Mantle does take don’t land. When not filming the lead’s moving shoes, he brings us countless shots of reactionary passersby, busy streets, and moving cars. Those trivial details unintentionally bloat director Kevin Macdonald’s (The Last King of Scotland) film and lessen the much-needed tension. In her premium running outfit, Maia rock-hops across babbling creeks, jogs through tranquil parks, and zips down city streets under excessive camera flair. Together, it makes the hour-and-a-half movie feel like an extended workout video led by a sweaty, panting Gadot.
That said, some scenes come across better than others. When Maia first receives word from the kidnapper, the blurry flash cuts properly set the movie’s anxious tone. There are also a couple of takes that make use ghosting effects, adding a surreality to the young parent’s panic. Another choice to admire is the use of some well-placed aerial shots, which glide smoothly above London to give audiences the lay of the land. Mostly though, the visuals are sadly just as unfulfilling as the story.
The Runner seems, too, to rely on the audience being too distracted to notice the ever-mounting pile of plot contrivances. Character decisions feel poorly made; bad situations feel avoidable. And though Gadot’s range is limited, she’s not helped by a character that lacks depth, and whose attributes shift to conveniently fit the plot. One moment, she declares she’s ‘not a killer,’ the next she seemingly aims her illegal pea shooter at anything that moves.
That’s a theme throughout The Runner: human behaviours come across as awkward and unnatural. Before the On her morning run, before the action really begins, Maia tries to race a dismayed fellow runner – like a scene straight out of Tom and Jerry. It feels bizarre enough that one wonders if there were one or two A.I. passes on the script, which is credited to writer Mark Gibson.
Worse still is the faulty logic on display about how modern-day technology actually operates. The nameless kidnapper, known as The Caller, uses cartoonish Big Brother tools to manipulate and control Maia. He seamlessly hacks into people’s digital footprint, tracks every footstep taken by London’s Met police, and monitors Maia’s precise MPH as she springs through the city. It all seems a bit convenient, though maybe it’s not that far-fetched given where the world is headed.
The cherry on top of everything is The Runner‘s unsatisfying resolution. The film confidently tries to land an unreliable-narrator twist at the end, but without build-up or a trail of clues, it does a disservice to viewers who make it all the way through. The film has admirably lofty goals, it has to be said, but ultimately it doesn’t reach them and will leave most wishing the filmmakers had focused more on nailing the basics.
