Mark Reviews Movies: RUN SWEETHEART RUN

Run Sweetheart Run, Amazon Studios

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Review by Mark Dujsik | October 27, 2022

The central issue with Run Sweetheart Run is that it's more concerned with making its point and playing up its gimmick than with telling its story. That story is a simple and pointedly loaded one about a woman who spends a night being chased by a man who wants to do her harm. Does the larger point even need to be made when the very essence of the plot says it all?

Unfortunately, co-writer/director Shana Feste believes it does—and needs to be repeated and underlined—as this straightforward tale proceeds. As for the gimmick driving that plot, it's pretty silly, but more importantly, it also undermines the severity of the movie's underlying purpose by bringing something unnatural into the realm of real-world fears.

The woman is Cherie (Ella Balinska), a pre-law student, a receptionist at a law office, and a single mother whom we first meet making an official complaint about her boss. She wants it to be known that James (Clark Gregg), one of the Los Angeles firm's partners, treats her in a belittling, harassing, and/or generally sexist way, and he does, as we quickly witness, have the habit of referring to Cherie as "sweetheart." Regardless, it becomes irrelevant, or at least it seems that way, since Feste, Keith Josef Adkins, and Kellee Terrell's screenplay ignores the notion and can only offer suggestions as to its insignificance for what follows.

James insists that Cherie has double-booked him for dinners—one with an important client and one with his wife for their anniversary. She can fix the mistake she's certain she didn't make, though, by going to the dinner with the client. Since Cherie has been busy with work and school and being a mother, a night out might be good for her, and when she and her friend/babysitter take a look at the client's online profile, he's handsome and successful enough that maybe it will be very good for her.

The guy is Ethan (Pilou Asbæk), who does seem charming, polite, and accommodating when Cherie meets him at his mansion. He even took her tastes, gathered by looking into her online profile, into account when picking the restaurant, and after chatting and learning a bit about each other over dinner, Ethan invites Cherie back to his home for one final drink. She says no, but after kissing him good night, Cherie changes her mind and accepts the offer for one—only one—drink.

There are more details to these setup, including Ethan's outburst when a dog approaches him at the restaurant and the early alarm he has set on his phone. While those become important to the plot later, a stylistic choice as Cherie enters the house is more notable and ultimately frustrating. She walks in, and Ethan hangs back, holds up his hand toward the camera, and follows Cherie. The camera, apparently under his control, agrees to his unspoken command and watches the door. Soon, some thumps and, then, screams are heard behind it.

The gag, of course, is that Ethan is a figure of such power that he can control what we see and how we see it, but whatever might have been made of such the notion, which taps into the concept of perspective in filmmaking, is essentially dismissed immediately. It appears again later, when Ethan tries again to assault Cherie and when someone else takes command of the perspective. Mostly, though, the movie becomes just a simple chase story with characters making bad decisions, not listening to sound judgment, and getting away because Ethan, despite all his influence, is a pretty incompetent villain.

There's more going on here, but the main gimmick, which turns the threat against Cherie into something supernatural, becomes increasingly ridiculous, as Ethan hunts the woman, is apparently attuned to the scent of her blood (Cherie's period just started, complicating matters, obviously), and turns the entire idea of a predatory man into something that is not of this world. It's an unfortunate choice, not only because it downplays the very real threat that the villain begins as, but also—and mainly—because the story becomes a redundant allegory for the very concept it's trying to portray.

What's the purpose of adding so many layers of style, narrative, folklore, and exposition about some age-old battle between Good and Evil atop something as understandable and relatively grounded as Cherie's initial predicament? The filmmakers are too busy piling on these layers that they forget to make Run Sweetheart Run into a competent thriller or fable.

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