Gal Gadot's Prime Video Thriller Is as Mindless and Ludicrous as Streaming Movies Come

The ideal viewer for Prime Video’s throwaway thriller The Runner is anyone upset by recent quotes from star Gal Gadot suggesting that she might be done playing Wonder Woman. The film gives off major (and, frankly, a bit objectifying) superheroine vibes by having Gadot run around London in tight spandex as her character, big-deal attorney Maia Martin, is ordered by an anonymous caller to run five miles in one hour and then kill a mob informant. If she fails, her son will be murdered.

Even with all that running around, director Kevin Macdonald (a long way from his 2006 Oscar winner, The Last King of Scotland) stretches out the narrative far past our ability to care, especially since we rightly sense that twists and surprises are not forthcoming. The only exception is a ludicrous ending that defies all logic, even within the context of a silly little thriller. For that and other screenwriting crimes, blame Mark Gibson, who never elevates the concept beyond the obvious, since Maia’s journey never becomes a means for her to plumb the depths of her soul or realize the error of her ways, as in 2002’s similar (and way better) Phone Booth. In constant motion but running in place as far as we’re concerned, The Runner is about as empty-calorie a thriller as Prime Video has released.

The entire concept of The Runner never passes the smell test: forcing someone to commit murder by making them exhaust themselves and risk injury by running continuously for miles while needling them with distractions to reminder them of their tragic past would hardly result in the most effective involuntary assassin. As the mysterious caller explains to Maia, keeping her running prevents her from talking to anyone she shouldn’t. Then again, considering her son’s life is at stake, Maia would certainly not say a word to the cab driver who could get this thing over with in 20 minutes.

Macdonald argues that Maia’s predicament would be impossible without our interconnected world, where everyone stares at their cellphones and surveillance cameras are everywhere. But the point is lost when the nameless caller (Damian Lewis, giving his best Hannibal Lecter) can read Maia’s emails, see her bank balance, send texts from her phone, peruse private photos, mimic her voice with AI, and do whatever else he needs to carry out his scheme. That plan gets rolling when Maia, a single mother whose elite running skills are revealed during a sprint in the park, receives a cellphone call. The sinister voice claims to have kidnapped her diabetic son, Noah (Rory Wilmot). He threatens to inject Noah with a lethal dose of insulin unless she runs to the fictional Excelsus Hotel and shoots her client, whose testimony can convict a mob boss accused of murder. After being directed by the caller to a trash bin containing Noah’s backpack and a pistol, Maia realizes she has no choice but to hope the soles of her track shoes will hold up for the next 60 minutes.

Oscar-winning cinematographer Anthony Dod Mantle (Slumdog Millionaire) mixes plenty of natural, broad daylight shots of London’s bustling streets, while also finding creative ways to cover what is basically one person running for minutes on end. He also doesn’t spare the close-ups of Gadot, who does a completely fine job conveying Maia’s strength, panic, fear, and resilience. Also worth noting is Sam Rice-Edwards, whose edit keeps this 84-minute ride brisk and pacey without over-cutting. The slick tech package doesn’t obscure the film’s storytelling shortcomings, though. The Runner often forgets that it’s a ticking-clock thriller, with the time remaining until Maia must reach the Excelsus occasionally displayed on-screen. But it’s an empty promise of suspense, since we don’t believe for a second that Maia could accomplish her goal in such a short time, especially after she’s hit by a car and attended to by medics.

Gal Gadot in the thriller suspense-action, THE RUNNER

Even as Maia steals cellphones, sneaks onto the Tube, and winds her way through pedestrian traffic, the movie never uses her run as a way to explore a flawed character. When the caller forces Maia to brand her neighbor a “bitch,” it’s never developed into an idea suggesting that the sinister man on the other end of the line is making her acknowledge her darker side. The Runner is essentially a surface-level ride that has neither the guts nor the script to make us forget similar films like Run Lola Run. Suspension of disbelief is always a prerequisite for enjoying movies of this type, but no matter how hard Gadot runs, she can’t outrun such mediocrity. Whatever charges Maia will face for — this is just a quick tally — possession of a firearm, unauthorized trespassing, battery, and multiple counts of theft will have to wait for the sequel that we should all run away from.

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