Predators review

There’s a word that has been on every Hollywood producer’s lips for the past few years: reboot. It seems that if there is an existing franchise that hasn’t seen a new entry in the past few years, then it is ripe to be exploited for modern audiences who apparently can’t remember back further than two seconds. Perhaps there are subliminal messages in those anti-piracy adverts designed to promote goldfish-style memories in viewers.

Of course you haven’t really been able to move for Predator related mishaps in the twenty-something years since John McTiernan delivered the original film. A claustrophic, jungle-based hunt-or-be-hunted actioner, it joined a top of his game Arnold Schwarzenneger with a who’s who of 80’s action testosterone: Bill Duke, Carl Weathers, Jesse Ventura, the stories of their behind the scenes workouts would prove almost as interesting as the film itself. Throw in a memorable creature design courtesy of Stan Winston via James Cameron, and movie magic was created, even if he was one ugly motherf*cker.

The monster was too popular to be resigned to one movie, and over the course of two decades there has been a hum-drum sequel, a stream of comics and video games, and two cinematic match-ups with H.R. Giger’s Aliens that are better forgotten about. Less a case of ‘if it bleeds we can kill it’, more ‘if it works we can milk it’.

Predators (referencing James Cameron’s sequel, Aliens) mercifully ignores much of the culture that has sprung up around the creature, and sets out to re-capture some of the magic of the original. Indeed if a fault can be laid with the film, it is that this reverence sometimes gets in the way of developing the film as a sequel truly should, an issue that could be laid similarly at the feet of Bryan Singer’s Superman Returns.

Luckily the original ingredients are just as appetizing as they were in the eighties: a team of professional hard-bastards find themselves in an inhospitable jungle surrounded by an unknown assailant, seemingly intent on picking them off one by one. The planet may no longer be Earth, but for all intents and purposes this is Predator stripped back to it’s origin as a slasher flick with a sci-fi twist.

If the ingredients are unoriginal then at least director Nimrod Antal and producer Robert Rodriguez have been able to approach them from a different angle. In place of the walking hulks of the original are an eclectic group of actors to fill out the human side: Oscar winner Adrien Brody takes charge as leader Royce, Topher Grace plays Topher Grace and there’s an obligatory role for Danny Trejo. The rest of the group are less memorable, being basic stereotypes for their respected countries, but they’re amiable enough to root for when the blood starts to flow.

There are also alterations to the original Predator design, with the original species usurped by new berserker types that are apparently stronger and faster (though all this seems to amount to is having a serious case of red eye). Antal is in no rush to show them off though, with the film taking it’s time unveiling the creatures. This slow reveal means a certain amount of repetition, but when the action does arrive it is pleasingly crunchy and gory, with spines ripped from bodies and copious amounts of red (and green) blood. There are also two definite fanboy fight scenes towards the end that are guaranteed to leave a smile on the face of any grown man.

Predators delivers more of what made the original film great, while failing to be ambitious enough to be classed as a truly great sequel. If nothing else it will have you talking like Arnie again for at least a week afterwards: altogether now... ‘get to da chopper!’