Stephen King started writing THE LONG WALK when the Vietnam War was still raging, and echoes of its impact on the psyche of the United States reverberate through the film version. In a near future dystopia, young men in the prime of life, struggling in a country economically ravaged by war, voluntarily sign up for a lottery that gives one young man from each state a chance to participate in a grueling competition with no finish line. Instead, there is one survivor who will not only be gifted with wealth beyond his wildest dreams, but he will also be granted one wish (with some restrictions). The similarities abound. Registering for selective service was mandatory back in the day, and the lottery determined who would be sent to war. The question of whether or not the lottery for the eponymous competition is or is not a free choice is one of the many philosophical questions explored as young men from a variety of backgrounds and life experiences, but all from poverty, pass the time with bonding and squabbling, forming alliances that they know must, at some point, break down, and face death at any given moment from chance or stress.
We begin with Garraty (Cooper Hoffman) cheering up his mother (Judy Greer) as she drives him to the starting line in a beat-up car. He is upbeat, she is struggling to maintain her composure, and as they say good-bye, as Garraty assures her that he will see her soon, the raw anguish is almost too much to bear as she clings to him. It’s a fitting introduction to a film that will put the audience through a similar emotional wringer without pity and without surcease.
Also fitting is the somber mood of the starting line. Bravado from some, quiet from others, and surrounding them all military vehicles laden with guns. The rules, as explained by The Major (Mark Hamill) in a terse growl from behind sunglasses that he will never remove, are simple. Maintain a steady 3 mph pace, stay on the paved road, and don’t assault the other competitors. There are three warnings for any infraction, and then the infractor gets a “ticket”. That is jargon for a bullet to the head. He spouts jingoisms, egging on the contestants with fulsome rhetoric about glory and aiding the ailing economy, praising their efforts and their sacrifice. The young men listen attentively, surrendering to the ceremony of being reduced to a number before starting out.
We are put on notice about what to expect, but as we get to know these characters, it becomes personal when they receive a ticket, starting with a kid who may or may not be of age who gets a muscle cramp and, with the camera in close, receives his ticket as he screams about the unfairness of it all. One walker hopes that he will get used to that. Another hopes he doesn’t. And that is the real story. The way a population, living in a putative democracy with a rule of law created with the consent of the governed, not only find themselves in this position, but also the way everyone goes along with it. Non-participants line the side of the road out of curiosity, out of fandom for a particular walker, or with the hope of seeing blood on the pavement. None protest. In flashbacks, we see what happens to those who fight against the Major’s regime, even if it’s only reading a book that the government has banned. Summary judgement is swift, and it is delivered by the same Major who dedicates segments of the walk to the fallen, and chides the ones left with jibes at their manhood.
The killings are brutal, and so is the struggle, both shown in excruciating detail. So, too, small touches that humanize even the most difficult characters, one folding a green paper crane as he starts the walk, another suddenly realizing the consequences of his bullying. We can guess from the order of the credits who will make stay with us the longest, but it doesn’t mitigate the torture of watching them walk non-stop for hours along a road lined with derelict cars and glowing sunflowers. The heart, the way through the bleakness, though, is the friendships between Garraty, and McVries, (David Jonsson) who believes in the sanctity of each moment. Garraty expounds on the illusion of choice, Pete on the psychology of walking while sleeping or surrendering to the inevitable bodily functions. They come to represent the different worldviews that motivate them, worldviews that are not always mutually exclusive.
The drama of staying alive as others die, the sure and certain knowledge that the person with whom you’ve bonded is also, in the final reckoning, your adversary the reason you will die is never far from even the most casual conversation and makes the tender moments fraught with conflicting emotions in the audience. As they grow to respect and to love one another, so do we thanks to the layered, deceptively simple performances of them all. Some are kids out of their depth but too scared to let on, some are in a profound denial, and some who have accepted what is to come but have no other choice because what they would return to is beyond enduring.
THE LONG WALK Is a devastating gloss on war, actual and economic and political, of sending young men with their whole lives before them into a meat grinder where fairness and decency have no purchase. Where the ultimate battle is to keep your soul. The intensity is profound, the pain is palpable, and the gunshots will reverberate forever.
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