WALK or die.

Those are the simple rules in The Long Walk, director Francis Lawrence’s bleak and harrowing tale of survival set against a backdrop of a fascist America.

The bad guys are in control, and for sport, 50 young men – one from each state, chosen by lottery – are set about to walk for their lives. If they slow down, they’re shot to death on site, and the last one standing wins. Rah-rah.

The story is adapted from a 1979 Stephen King novel, which he wrote under the pseudonym Richard Bachman. It’s set in the late ‘60s but could easily take place today, or 10 years from now. Only the cars and clothing would need updating.

At a starting line somewhere in America’s heartland, 50 youngsters gather as they prepare for their journey. An endless stretch of blacktop awaits, and the finish line emerges only when the second-to-last participant is gunned down. The contest will be televised, and great riches await the winner. Everyone else? Tough break, kid.

Join the hike, they said. It'll be good exercise, they said.

Among the participants – all but one of whom is doomed, per the rules – friendships emerge. Chief among them are Raymond Garraty (Cooper Hoffman) and Peter McVries (David Jonsson), who strike up a conversation and a quick camaraderie and become leaders, of sorts, to the group.

Side characters include Hank Olson (Ben Wang), Billy Stebbins (Garrett Wareing), Arthur Baker (Tut Nyuot) and the needling Gary Barkovitch (Charlie Plummer), who establishes himself as a thorn in everyone’s side, a villain if the walk itself wasn’t already one, and if there weren’t already a much larger one looming over the proceedings.

That would be The Major, played by Mark Hamill in a gruelling turn. In a gruff voice laced with unwavering macho confidence, he lays down the rules: participants must keep a minimum pace of 3 mph, fall below and a warning is issued.

Three warnings and they’re dead. Last man standing wins, depending on whether one’s definition of winning involves 49 of their peers being slaughtered on site. Maybe lasting is a better word.

Ah, the irony of Luke SkyWALKer overseeing the long walk.

The group walks through the night, up hills and through rainstorms with no breaks and no bathroom stops. A friend gets executed? Keep it moving. Soles fall from their sneakers? Keep it moving. It’s a grim, unrelenting journey, even as a Stand by Me kind of understanding builds between the participants.

And just how did we enter this horrific state of affairs in the first place? A great war has left America down and out, and in order to combat an epidemic of laziness among the populace, ‘The Walk’ was instituted as a morale booster. Killing for sport, that’ll get ‘em going!

The why is much more nagging – why would people sign up for this, and why would people watch? – but the answer is much more haunting, especially as the story touches on issues of American wealth, class and privilege.

Does walking backwards count as well?

Kids have been offered up for sport in dystopian stories from Battle Royale to The Hunger Games, and The Long Walk’s death-as-televised-entertainment conceit is shared (and ramped up) by another King story, The Running Man.

But The Long Walk is a different animal. There’s no love story here, or undercurrent of heroism. These young men walk until they die, and no one is coming to save them.

Kudos to Lawrence, who also helmed four Hunger Games movies (as well as the upcoming The Hunger Games: Sunrise on the Reaping), for refusing to compromise the story’s integrity.

Cinematographer Jo Willems, a Lawrence regular, turns the bare fields, overcast skies and loneliness of rural roads into a symbol of a lost America.

And the cast is consistently compelling, especially Jonsson, who, along with Hoffman, lends a human core to this unforgiving exercise. Welcome to the black parade. – By ADAM GRAHAM/The Detroit News/Tribune News Service