Enjoyable and exhilarating, if somewhat predictable and dumb crime/action/chase flick starring a tentatively low-key Andrew McCarthy and an antagonist so mean that even Scott Glenn seems to flinch. The film is wonderfully 1990s, in everything from the wide suits to the fiery red blood, and the somewhat shoddy production values blend in well with the film's ephemeral quality: You're watching a piece of film history filled with carefree violence made by filmmakers who think they're influenced by Quentin Tarantino, but whose lack of finesse makes the end product grimmer, and not at all as multi-layered. But it's still fun, because it's tight and full of adrenaline.
Review of Night of the Running Man
