Get ready to rethink everything you thought you knew about the Predator franchise. Predator: Badlands flips the script entirely, introducing us to Dek (Dimitrius Schuster-Koloamatangi), a young, sensitive Predator who’s more interested in finding his place in the universe than in mindless brutality. Bullied by his overbearing father for his size and perceived weakness, Dek embarks on a journey that’s equal parts coming-of-age tale and intergalactic adventure. Along the way, he befriends two unlikely allies: a sassy, legless android named Thia (Elle Fanning) and a quirky alien companion. But here’s where it gets controversial—this Predator is unapologetically queer, and the film leans into themes of self-acceptance and chosen family in a way the franchise has never dared before. Is this the Predator we need, or is it a step too far from the macho roots of the series? Let’s dive in.
Directed by Dan Trachtenberg, Predator: Badlands is a surprisingly tender addition to the Predator canon. Gone are the relentless grimness and gore of the 1980s originals. Instead, Trachtenberg and screenwriter Patrick Aison craft a story that’s as heartwarming as it is thrilling. Dek’s quest to prove himself takes him to Genna, a planet so deadly it’s known as the ‘death planet.’ Here, he’s not just battling terrifying creatures but also his own insecurities. And this is the part most people miss—amidst the sci-fi action, the film subtly explores themes of identity, belonging, and the power of friendship. It’s a bold move for a franchise known for its muscle-bound heroes and alien bloodshed.
Elle Fanning shines as Thia, a plucky android who becomes Dek’s unlikely BFF. Her character adds a layer of humor and humanity to the story, balancing the film’s darker moments with her quick wit and unwavering optimism. Together, Dek and Thia form a dynamic duo that’s hard not to root for. But don’t worry—there’s still plenty of action to keep fans of the genre satisfied. From gruesome dismemberments to jaw-dropping creature designs, Badlands doesn’t shy away from the franchise’s signature violence. Yet, it’s all framed within a larger narrative about growth and connection, making it a refreshing take on the Predator mythos.
What’s truly remarkable is how the film manages to humanize—or should we say, Yautja-ize—a species known for their ruthlessness. By telling the story from Dek’s perspective, Trachtenberg invites us to see the Predators as more than just killing machines. They have fears, dreams, and even a soft spot for Cher and muscle magazines. It’s a perspective shift that works surprisingly well, though it might ruffle the feathers of die-hard fans who prefer their Predators unapologetically savage.
And here’s the kicker: Predator: Badlands isn’t just a B-movie trying to be something it’s not. It embraces its place in the franchise with a self-awareness that’s both charming and clever. From witty nods to previous installments to a cleverly placed gag at the end that addresses a long-standing question in Predator lore, the film knows exactly what it is—and it owns it. By the time Dek confronts his father and finds the courage to be himself, you’ll likely find yourself cheering, even if it’s just a quiet nod of appreciation.
So, is Predator: Badlands a game-changer or a misstep? That’s for you to decide. But one thing’s for sure: it’s a bold, kindhearted entry that challenges our expectations of what a Predator movie can be. And that, in itself, is worth celebrating. Now, here’s a question for you: Does the Predator franchise need to evolve in this direction, or should it stick to its brutal roots? Let’s hear your thoughts in the comments!
