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Trachtenberg’s Predator: Badlands won’t satisfy purists craving blood and brawn, but it’s a witty, self-aware reinvention of a weary franchise. Balancing parody with heart, it turns a galactic hunter into a surprisingly tender hero.

Title: Predator: Badlands

Director: Dan Trachtenberg

Cast: Dimitrius Schuster-Koloamatangi, Elle Fanning, Mike Homik,

Where: In theatres near you

Rating: 3 Stars

It seems no franchise ever truly dies; it just gets a gentle Disney makeover. Predator: Badlands, directed by Dan Trachtenberg, proves that even a series built on decapitations and dreadlocks can evolve into a cosmic coming-of-age tale. Gone are the testosterone-soaked jungles of yore; in their place is Genna, a “death planet” that looks like a theme park designed by Ridley Scott and Pixar in a joint fever dream.

At the heart of this strange, sensitive spectacle is Dek (Dimitrius Schuster-Koloamatangi), a pint-sized (according to its species) Predator desperate to prove himself to his tyrannical father. In any other film, he’d be lunch. Here, he’s lunching with a legless android named Thia (Elle Fanning) and a CGI pet so adorable it deserves its own merch line. The result is an unlikely blend of How to Train Your Dragon and Mad Max, spliced together with the DNA of an Alien movie that’s had a few too many lattes.

For all its absurdity, Badlands works better than it should. Trachtenberg’s knack for world-building turns predictable pulp into surprisingly nimble storytelling. The film never forgets it’s pulp but delights in being the cleverest pulp around, occasionally winking at the audience as if to say, “Relax, even Predators need therapy.”

Actors’ Performance

Dimitrius Schuster-Koloamatangi makes an unlikely Predator hero, all vulnerability wrapped in latex and ego. His Dek is half warrior, half wallflower, and it’s oddly endearing to watch him stumble through a hero’s journey that’s as much about emotional literacy as it is about alien survival.

Elle Fanning, meanwhile, brings humanity, or the synthetic equivalent thereof, to Thia, the bisected android with sass and circuitry to spare. Fanning’s double act as both the wounded Thia and her colder, corporate twin Tessa gives the film an emotional hinge it doesn’t quite deserve, but is better for having. Together, the two share a chemistry that’s equal parts odd-couple comedy and existential dread, which, frankly, is a refreshing combination in a franchise once defined by biceps and bullets.

Music and Aesthetics

Sonically, Badlands thrives on a synth-heavy score that feels like an interstellar road trip playlist curated by Hans Zimmer’s rebellious intern. The music lends a strangely lyrical pulse to the chaos, oscillating between mournful electronic hums and full-blown operatic crescendos.

Visually, the film is a lush, grotesque banquet. The flora glows, the fauna bites, and the design of Genna’s lethal landscape is equal parts Dune and Doctor Seuss on acid. The CGI occasionally wobbles under its own ambition, a few beasts look more Doordarshan-era cartoon than silver screen, but Trachtenberg compensates with a kinetic camera and sly visual humour. Even the violence, now strategically colour-coded to avoid an R rating, manages to look oddly painterly.

FPJ Verdict

Trachtenberg’s Predator: Badlands won’t satisfy purists craving blood and brawn, but it’s a witty, self-aware reinvention of a weary franchise. Balancing parody with heart, it turns a galactic hunter into a surprisingly tender hero. Flawed yet fresh, this is a monster movie that champions empathy over dominance, and almost pulls it off.