Glen Powell blames Paramount merger for The Running Man's $41M box office shortfall

Glen Powell suffered a severed hand tendon requiring surgery and hospitalization, forcing him to film action sequences in severe conditions while injured.
There's no rush. I look back on that one as an example of going, you know what, there's no rush.
Powell reflects on the pressure to film quickly on multiple projects, questioning whether speed should ever override proper creative execution.
Mark

So Glen Powell is saying Paramount's merger killed his movie. But $41 million short on a $110 million budget—that's a real problem. How much of that is actually the marketing department's fault versus just the film not connecting?

Mimi

That's the honest question. He's pointing to a specific moment—they laid off the entire marketing team a month before release. That's not abstract. That's a department that would normally be building awareness, managing the campaign, coordinating press. Losing that infrastructure right before launch is genuinely disruptive.

Luke

But we should be careful here. Powell is attributing the shortfall to the merger, but we don't know what the film would have earned with a full marketing team. The Running Man is a dystopian action film in a crowded market. It's possible the marketing department couldn't have saved it. We're taking his explanation at face value without seeing the counterfactual.

Mark

And then there's the hand injury. He ruptured a tendon, got a septic infection, had surgery, and filmed the next day in negative-ten-degree weather with one arm. That's extraordinary.

Mimi

It's extraordinary and it's also a choice. He made a calculation: protect the release date, or protect his body. He chose the release date. And he's now reflecting on whether that was the right call—not just for The Running Man, but for How to Make a Killing too, which he says suffered from being rushed.

Luke

The question is whether Powell is being honest about why he made that choice. He says it was because he had The Great Beyond waiting. But there's also the industry logic that says if you delay, you're seen as difficult, as someone who holds up productions. We don't know if that pressure was in his mind. We only know what he said.

Mark

So is he blaming the system or blaming himself?

Mimi

Both, I think. He's saying the system—the merger, the schedule, the pipeline of films—created conditions where he felt he had to film injured. But he's also saying, looking back, that maybe the system shouldn't have been obeyed so completely.

Luke

That's fair. But we should note that he's reflecting on this after the film underperformed. If The Running Man had been a hit, would he be questioning the decision to film through a severed tendon? We don't know. His wisdom might be partly hindsight.

  • Paramount's corporate merger triggered the elimination of its entire marketing department just weeks before The Running Man's release, leaving a $110 million film without the institutional support it needed to find its audience.
  • Powell suffered a ruptured and fully severed hand tendon during a Bulgarian fight sequence, developed a septic infection, underwent emergency surgery — and returned to set the following morning.
  • With a locked release date and a second film already waiting in the pipeline, the production rewrote scenes around his bandaged hand and sent him up an exterior wall in negative-ten-degree weather wearing little more than a towel.
  • The film's $41 million loss has prompted Powell to publicly reckon with the pressure he placed on himself, acknowledging that a similar rush undermined his black comedy How to Make a Killing as well.
  • Powell now advocates for slower, less pressured creative timelines, framing his experience as a hard lesson in the cost of treating the schedule as sacred.

In the aftermath of a costly commercial disappointment, Glen Powell has begun to interrogate the silent agreements that govern modern filmmaking — the ones that keep actors on set through injury and keep release dates immovable even when the institutions behind them are dissolving. The Running Man, Edgar Wright's adaptation of Stephen King's dystopian vision, earned $69 million against a $110 million budget, a shortfall Powell traces to Paramount dismantling its marketing department mid-merger, one month before the film's release. His account is not simply a story of a film that underperformed, but of a system in which human cost — including a severed tendon filmed through in subzero conditions — is absorbed quietly into the machinery of the schedule.

Glen Powell has spoken candidly about the forces that shaped — and ultimately undermined — The Running Man, Edgar Wright's adaptation of Stephen King's dystopian novel. In an interview with Esquire, Powell pointed to a decision made in Paramount's boardroom as the film's undoing: the studio's corporate merger had led it to dismantle its marketing department entirely, just one month before the film's release. Against a $110 million budget, the film earned only $69 million worldwide — a $41 million loss that Powell believes the studio's internal upheaval made nearly inevitable.

The financial story, however, runs alongside a physical one. While filming in Bulgaria, Powell ruptured a tendon in his hand during a fight sequence. Doctors found the tissue had been completely severed and that a septic infection had taken hold. He underwent surgery — and was back on set the next day. The production rewrote scenes to conceal his bandaged hand, then sent him to scale an exterior wall in negative-ten-degree weather, wearing only a towel, working with one functional arm.

The calculation behind that decision was straightforward and unsparing: The Running Man had a locked release date, and Powell had another film — J.J. Abrams's The Great Beyond — already waiting. To delay one was to jeopardize the other. So he pushed through the cold, the pain, and the infection.

Powell has since extended that reflection to another project, the 2026 black comedy How to Make a Killing, which also arrived and vanished with little impact. 'There just was not enough time to do it properly,' he said. The experience has led him to question the assumption that the schedule is untouchable — that the release date cannot move, whatever the cost to the work or the people making it. With two more films on the horizon, Powell appears to be carrying that lesson forward, even if the industry's appetite for urgency remains unchanged.

Glen Powell walked off the set of The Running Man carrying injuries that went deeper than the physical. In an interview with Esquire, the actor traced the film's commercial failure back to a decision made in a boardroom: Paramount's merger had prompted the studio to dismantle its entire marketing department just one month before the movie's release. The Running Man, Edgar Wright's adaptation of Stephen King's dystopian novel, had arrived with considerable expectations. Powell played a contestant forced into a deadly televised competition. But the film earned only $69 million worldwide against a $110 million budget—a $41 million shortfall that Powell attributes directly to the studio's internal upheaval.

The financial disappointment, however, was only part of the story. During production in Bulgaria, Powell suffered a ruptured tendon in his hand while filming a fight sequence. The injury was severe enough to land him in a hospital, where doctors discovered the tissue had been completely severed and that he'd developed a septic infection. Surgery followed immediately. Most actors in that position would have taken time to recover. Powell did not. Instead, the production team rewrote scenes to accommodate bandages on his hand, and he returned to set the very next day.

What followed was a sequence of shots that required him to scale an exterior wall in negative-ten-degree weather, wearing only a towel around his waist, filming with one functional arm. The decision to push forward came from a specific calculation: The Running Man had a locked release date, and Powell had another film waiting in the pipeline—J.J. Abrams's The Great Beyond. Delaying one meant jeopardizing the other. So he filmed through the pain, through the cold, through the infection that had only recently been treated.

Powell's reflection on the experience carries a note of hard-won wisdom. He acknowledged that the same pressure had affected another of his projects, the 2026 black comedy How to Make a Killing, which arrived and departed from theaters with minimal impact. "There were a lot of issues with that," he said. "There just was not enough time to do it properly." He framed it as a lesson learned: "I look back on that one as an example of going, You know what, there's no rush."

The actor's comments illuminate a tension that runs through modern filmmaking—the collision between corporate timelines and creative necessity. Paramount's merger created a specific crisis: the loss of institutional knowledge and marketing muscle at a moment when The Running Man needed both. But Powell's own choices reveal a parallel pressure, one that originates not in the studio's accounting department but in the actor's own commitment to the schedule. He chose not to delay. He chose to film injured. He chose to protect the release date even when his body was telling him to stop.

Looking ahead, Powell has two more films in development: The Great Beyond and Judd Apatow's The Comeback King, both slated for release next year. Whether those projects will benefit from the lessons Powell has drawn from The Running Man remains to be seen. What is clear is that the actor has begun to question the logic that made him film through a severed tendon in subzero conditions—the assumption that the schedule is sacred, that the release date cannot move, that the work must go on regardless of cost.

They let go of an entire marketing department a month before our movie came out in the middle of a merger.
— Glen Powell, on Paramount's decision during the corporate restructuring
There just was not enough time to do it properly. I look back on that one as an example of going, You know what, there's no rush.
— Glen Powell, reflecting on production pressures across multiple films
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