Predator: Badlands

We’ve come a long way since Ah-nold was rolling around in the mud in Central America. I confess that I am much out of date as far as this franchise is concerned. I didn’t even know going in that it had been folded into the ever-metastasizing Alien-Blade Runner universe. So there’s quite a bit here that was new to me. What is not new—indeed, it has become a reliably predictable trope—is the phenomenon of the monster from an original story sooner rather than later becoming the hero insubsequent iterations of the franchise. So we have it here. That plot trajectory makes this film a target for skepticism right from the start, and for sure, many of the movie’s early details lead the viewer to question the premise and execution of this work. You get a lot of stuff that follows the “wouldn’t it be cool if…” line of thinking—note to would-be filmmakers: generally, no, it wouldn’t—without much evidence that any real inspiration went into the production beyond that initial thought. What saves the proceedings from full-on ridiculousness is a certain level of cleverness in the action sequences, as well as some unexpected wry humor in the characters’ interactions. So while I can’t make the case that this movie is particularly great, I must somewhat grudgingly admit that it holds the attention and entertains throughout. Nothing here is groundbreaking—this is treading on ground that was thoroughly broken long ago—but you can watch it without feeling like you have wasted your time. It’s like you’re bringing home the measliest hunk of meat you could find, but nevertheless, it goes into the books as a successful hunt.