For nearly four decades, the franchise now under Disney’s umbrella has wielded the Predator series as a cinematic weapon, yet it’s often struggled to find its footing on the big screen—despite thriving in comics and novels. Without Arnold Schwarzenegger’s muscle-bound charisma, the films have stumbled, failing to recognize that the true stars are the Yautja, those intergalactic trophy hunters with a penchant for bloodsport. But here’s where it gets controversial: Predator: Badlands flips the script entirely, turning the hunter into the hunted—or rather, the hero. And this is the part most people miss: it’s not just a sequel; it’s a reinvention.
Directed by franchise steward Dan Trachtenberg (fresh off the success of Prey), Badlands shifts focus to Dek (Dimitrius Schuster-Koloamatangi), the ostracized son of a Yautja chieftain. Dek, the runt of his clan, is desperate to prove his worth by venturing to Genna, the so-called “planet of death,” to hunt the Kalisk—a creature so lethal it terrifies even his father. Sound familiar? Sure, it’s classic Predator territory, but Badlands is anything but predictable. It’s like Lewis Carroll’s Jabberwocky meets Alien, with a twist that’ll leave you rethinking everything you know about the franchise.
What sets Badlands apart—and makes it the strongest Predator film since the 1987 original—is its willingness to drop audiences into a fully realized, alien world and let them figure it out alongside the characters. Think Pitch Black meets The President’s Cake—sci-fi grit with a dash of art-house intrigue. But don’t be fooled: this is no arthouse experiment. It’s a pulse-pounding adventure that borrows from Avatar’s world-building playbook while carving its own path.
Genna is a planet teeming with dangers: serpentine vines that steal your gear, explosive slugs that detonate on contact, and flowers that shoot paralyzing darts. It’s like a deadly game show where every wrong move is your last. Dek arrives armed to the teeth with Yautja tech, but the real thrill comes when he’s stripped of his gadgets and forced to improvise. Is Genna the deadliest planet in the galaxy? Not quite—the air’s breathable, and there are no volcanoes—but its Lovecraftian horrors and razor-sharp grass make it a nightmare for even the most seasoned hunter.
Enter Thia (Elle Fanning), a synthetic creature straight out of Alien lore, who becomes Dek’s unlikely guide—or “tool,” as he begrudgingly calls her. Fanning also plays Tessa, a second synth with a chillingly ruthless personality, tasked with capturing the Kalisk for the Weyland-Yutani corporation. Here’s the kicker: Dek’s so-called “weakness”—his reluctance to embrace Yautja brutality—becomes his greatest strength. It’s a lesson in machismo turned on its head, but don’t expect pacifism; this film is violent, earning a questionable PG-13 rating despite its graphic content. The MPA’s logic? Alien goo and green blood apparently make it kid-friendly. Right.
The humor, though dark, is a breath of fresh air. Thia’s bisected body—her legs doing kung fu on their own—adds a gallows humor missing from previous entries. Even the Jar Jar Binks-esque CG creature, Bud, feels less annoying and more endearing. But here’s the real question: Is Badlands too ambitious for its own good, or does it strike the perfect balance between myth-building and entertainment? And does its PG-13 rating undermine its thematic edge?
By the end, Badlands isn’t just about survival—it’s about redefining what it means to be an “alpha.” Teamwork, not brute force, becomes the ultimate weapon. Call it a victory lap for Trachtenberg, who’s not just expanding the Yautja mythology but setting the stage for sequels. So, what do you think? Does Badlands deserve its place among the Predator greats, or is it a misstep in an otherwise iconic franchise? Let’s hear it in the comments.
