Imagine a franchise so resilient it’s practically immortal, yet so lost in its own convoluted web that it begins to devour itself. That’s the Predator series in a nutshell—and Predator: Badlands is the latest, baffling installment that leaves you wondering if it’s a masterpiece of chaos or a train wreck you can’t look away from. But here’s where it gets controversial: What happens when you take a ruthless alien hunter, strip away its menace, and turn it into a sympathetic, almost likable character? Spoiler alert: It stops being the Predator we know—and the results are as messy as they are fascinating.
For those hoping this was a sci-fi horror reboot of Terrence Malick’s Badlands, starring Martin Sheen and Sissy Spacek battling a space alien with a bizarre mouth, prepare for disappointment. Instead, this is just the latest iteration of a franchise that’s been clinging to life since 1987, when Arnold Schwarzenegger squared off against a snarling extraterrestrial in the jungles of Central America. Since then, Predator has proven itself as unkillable as a cockroach, but Badlands tests even that resilience.
The film is barely kept alive by Elle Fanning’s undeniable charm, but it’s a prime example of what happens when a franchise tries to humanize its central monster. The Predator here, a youngling named Dek (played under layers of prosthetics by Dimitrius Schuster-Koloamatangi), is portrayed as soft, vulnerable, and—dare we say—nice. Dek’s supposed weakness makes him a target for his ruthless Predator father, so he flees on a quest to reclaim his honor by hunting the Kalisk, a monster so fearsome even his father is terrified of it. And this is the part most people miss: By making Dek sympathetic, the film inadvertently creates a void, forcing someone else to step into the Predator’s role—and that’s where things get truly bizarre.
Enter Fanning’s dual roles as bioclone twins, or “synths.” One is Thia, a goofy, lovable manic pixie dream synth who forms an unlikely bond with Dek. The other is a cold, efficient killer, a Stepford-esque ninja who becomes the film’s true hunter. This dynamic not only undermines the franchise’s identity but raises a thought-provoking question: Can a Predator story survive without its core predator? The answer, unfortunately, is a resounding no. The plot’s sheer aimlessness sucks the life out of the film, and even Fanning’s star power can’t rescue it from its own confusion.
Here’s the real controversy: Is Predator: Badlands a bold experiment in reimagining a classic villain, or a misguided attempt to fix what wasn’t broken? Does humanizing the Predator enrich the story, or does it strip away what made the franchise iconic? Let’s debate it in the comments—because whether you love it or hate it, this film is a conversation starter you won’t forget.
