When I first read Stephen King’s The Long Walk over twenty years ago, there was something about its simplicity — a group of young men walking — that struck me as both horrifying and deeply human. Over the years, I kept coming back to it in my mind, thinking about what it would mean to bring this story to the screen. And one day, as fate would have it, I walked past the book sitting on a shelf in my home and wondered what was happening with the adaptation. Hours later, Roy Lee called me out of the blue and asked me if I would be interested in directing.
More so than the thrilling walk-or-die concept, what really stuck with me over the years is the camaraderie that develops among the walkers. Even though they’re technically competitors, they can’t help but bond, forming friendships that feel raw and authentic. The relationship between Garraty and McVries, in particular, is what gives the story its emotional center. It’s a connection that reveals who these characters are beneath the pressure, and it’s what I believe will make audiences care deeply about them.
Another aspect I adore most about THE LONG WALK is the intimacy of the story set against this larger-than-life contest. We’re right there with the boys every step of the way, sharing their exhaustion, fear, and fleeting moments of hope. It’s a rare opportunity to make a film that feels both epic and personal, where the tension comes not just from the stakes of the walk, but from the relationships that develop along the way.
But beyond the conceit of the story, the emotion, and the characters, what I hope makes THE LONG WALK resonate is its deeper meaning as a metaphor for the erosion of the American dream. Stagnating wages, inflation, cost of living and other financial pressures have made so many feel like their goals have become unattainable and their earnings pointless. This sense of financial and existential nihilism can be seen across America and throughout the world. The Long Walk takes this idea to the furthest extreme, depicting an America where people have been left with no better choice than to risk their lives to try and secure a better future, to pay for a roof over their heads, or to put food on the table. Originally written in 1967 as an allegory for the Vietnam War, somehow King’s novel feels just as relevant and timely in 2025.
My goal with this film is to honor what makes King’s novel such a powerful experience: the unforgettable characters, the relentless pace, and the uncomfortable questions it asks about who we are and what we value. I want audiences to leave the theater thinking not just about what they’ve seen, but about the world they’re part of.
