Watching Running Man (1987) set in the EXTREMELY FUTURISTIC YEAR of 2017. There are lots of things they got wrong (say it with me now: “celphonesInternetCassettetapesSmokingatwork”) about the EXTREMELY FUTURISTIC YEAR of [last year] but the single most charming misfire is its firm expectation that people of 2017 would tolerate lengthy choreographed dance interludes during a fatal version of American Gladiators.
Nah but seriously the two quaintest takeaways watching a thing like this:
A high-octane action flick from 1987 has the kind of dramatic pacing we expect today from a Christian Rom-Com
the fascist government competently suppresses The Truth That Will Set America Free instead of just drunkenly spamming the infosphere with a tsunami of transparent bullshit