Predator Badlands A Predator Pic That Prowls But Doesn't Pounce
Look, I'll level with you: I don't know much about the sprawling lore of *Alien* and *Predator*—beyond the basics of cloaked hunters and acid-blooded xenomorphs that pop up in memes more than midnight marathons. So when *Predator Badlands*, the latest stab at Dan Trachtenberg's 2022 reboot saga, hit screens on November 7, 2025, I went in with fresh eyes, unburdened by decades of franchise feuds. And you know what? I kinda liked it. Bits of it, anyway. There's an endearing charm to the whole affair, a scrappy underdog vibe that made me chuckle and lean in during the quieter moments. It's entertaining in that low-stakes, popcorn-munching way—like stumbling on a guilty-pleasure SyFy original that punches above its weight. But here's the thing: I can completely see and understand why die-hard fans are up in arms, torching it online and likening it to a Disney Princess befriending forest animals. (That comparison? Spot-on and savage.) For a series built on brutal, bone-crunching survival horror, this one feels more like a safari gone whimsically wrong than a bloodbath in the brush.
Directed by Trachtenberg with the same kinetic flair he brought to *Prey*, *Badlands* transplants the Yautja (Predators, for us lore-light folks) to a lush, uncharted planet that's billed as the franchise's darkest, most dangerous hellscape yet. The effects? Chef's kiss—those shimmering cloaks, the biomechanical gleam of Predator tech, and the creature designs all pop with a tactile menace that holds up on the big screen. Practical work shines through the CGI haze, giving the hunts a gritty, lived-in feel. And when the action hits? It's good—visceral takedowns with that signature arterial spray, choreographed like a deadly ballet under the twin suns. A mid-film ambush sequence, all shadows and snarls, had me grinning like a kid at a slasher flick.
The snag? There just... isn't enough of it. The film clocks in at a lean 105 minutes, but it spends way too much time meandering through setup and side quests, leaving the thrills feeling rationed like emergency rations. That supposed apocalypse world? It looks more like a vibrant alien Everglades than a nightmare factory—vibrant purples and glowing flora that scream "Instagram backdrop" instead of "instant death trap." It's frankly too colorful and pretty, turning the Predator's playground into a picnic spot that's suspiciously easy for even the littlest Yautja That Could to navigate without breaking a sweat (or whatever their equivalent is). The stakes feel dialed down, the peril more playful than punishing, which robs the whole thing of that primal edge the series thrives on.
Elle Fanning anchors it all with a solid turn in dual roles as two Synths—one a cold, calculating enforcer dripping with icy detachment, the other a bubbly counterpart missing her lower half, who strikes up an unlikely friendship with the displaced young Yautja. She brings a steely precision to the frosty one and a quirky, infectious energy to the plucky survivor, making their odd-couple dynamic (yes, there's bonding) oddly watchable without tipping into full camp. The supporting cast—veteran hunters like a grizzled Boyd Holbrook and a tech-whiz sidekick played by Amandla Stenberg—gets the job done, but no one elevates the material into must-see territory.
It wasn't terrible, not by a long shot. *Predator Badlands* has its hooks—enough endearing quirks and solid action beats to make for a diverting Friday night. But it doesn't strike me as having a lot of rewatchability; it's the kind of one-and-done that fades faster than a cloaking device. It just didn't quite reach the heights needed to carve out a spot in the pantheon—or even my streaming queue. Meh, but with a shrug and a half-smile. If you're lore-agnostic like me, it's a harmless detour. Fans? Steer clear unless you're packing patience and a sense of humor. Two and a half stars: serviceable, forgettable fun.
Predator: Badlands in Theaters Now
