Review - Predator: Badlands

[The following review contains MINOR SPOILERS; YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!]

The overall quality of the Predator franchise has always been rather… inconsistent. Although the first film is an undisputed action/horror/sci-fi masterpiece (and if you disagree, kindly keep it to yourself), its high-concept premise only stretches so far, leading to diminishing returns with each subsequent installment (2022’s excellent Prey notwithstanding, despite the clear limitations of its straight-to-streaming budget). Fortunately, Predator: Badlands revitalizes the series with a simple shift in perspective: this time, the eponymous extraterrestrial hunter is the protagonist—an inversion of the established (and somewhat stale) formula so obvious that it’s almost inconceivable that it took nearly four decades to implement.

The plot is elegantly minimalistic, utilizing familiar narrative conventions to ease the viewer into the fantastical setting. Our hero, Dek, is the archetypal underdog—the proverbial runt of his litter, smaller and lither than his traditionally “masculine” kin. Determined to prove his worth to the clan that has cruelly rejected and discarded him for his apparent weakness, he embarks on a sacred ceremonial quest considered daunting—indeed, borderline suicidal—by even the hardiest of his species. Over the course of his perilous journey, he discovers that there’s more to “strength” than just brute force, that one can attain “honor” beyond his own culture’s narrow definition of the word, and that “family” transcends mere blood relation.

While the resulting coming-of-age story certainly shares plenty of recognizable DNA with the previous Predator movies, it ultimately delivers a completely distinct experience—which makes it feel like a breath of fresh air in this risk-averse era of corporatized, commodified “IP.” Whereas most sequels are content to cannibalize and regurgitate their predecessors ad nauseam, Badlands ventures a bit further than the shadow of the Schwarzenegger vehicle that spawned it, finding inspiration in a variety of disparate, diverse sources: its rhythm, atmosphere, and visual style are reminiscent of the best episodes of Samurai Jack, and its tightly-structured, economical script—replete with deliciously satisfying setups and payoffs (every obstacle that Dek encounters is eventually repurposed as an improvised weapon)—owes an enormous debt to Edgar Wright. It is, in short, the perfect cinematic reinvention.