The Predator

 

Cast: Boyd Holbrook, Trevante Rhodes, Jacob Tremblay, Keegan-Michael Key, Olivia Munn, Sterling K. Brown, Thomas Jane, Alfie Allen, Augusto Aguilera, Yvonne Strahovski, Jake Busey

Director: Shane Black

Running time: 1 hour 41 minutes

by Jericho Cerrona

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Shane Black has spent his entire career trafficking in wisecracking machismo; from writing the screenplays for 1980s action movies like Lethal Weapon to ironic 1990s deconstructions of the genre such as Last Action Hero. His directing work includes 2005’s Kiss Kiss Bang Bang and 2016’s The Nice Guys, two films which traded on audiences having a working familiarity of his career in Hollywood. His connection to the Predator franchise is also more than simply casual; having starred in a bit role as radio operator Rick Hawkins in the original 1987 film. Known for razor sharp dialogue, elaborate crime plots, and male camaraderie, Black’s latest directorial effort sees him tapping into some of that same cinematic mojo. For all its over the top gore and knockabout comedy, The Predator is mostly about male posturing under the guise of surviving planetary alien invasion.

The Predator has a plot (perhaps too much plot), but like most films of this type, the plot doesn’t matter. Things begins in earnest when a Predator space vessel plummets to earth and crash lands deep in a Mexican forest. Enter black-ops American sniper Quinn McKenna (Boyd Holbrook, channeling Colin Farrell by way of Charlie Hunnam), who discovers the downed ship and naturally steals some of the scattered alien tech. For some reason, he ends up shipping the stolen equipment to his estranged ex-wife Emily (Yvonne Strahovski) and autistic son, Rory (Jacob Tremblay), and since the kid is “on the spectrum”, he quickly decodes the alien language. If this setup sounds ludicrous, Black doubles down on the inherent goofiness of his central conceit by having Quinn deemed mentally unstable and placed inside a van en route to a high-security facility. On board, there’s a predictably rag tag group of misfits, including Tourette vet Baxley (Thomas Jane), Nebraska (Trevante Rhodes), an officer with suicidal impulses, and Keegan-Michael Key as the comic relief sidekick Coyle, among others. In classic Shane Black fashion, these are vulgar-mouthed delinquents who are all stereotypes right out of 80s action movie pantheon. Whether or not this ironic bid for nostalgia to a simpler time where “men could be men” is to one’s liking is debatable, but there’s no denying Black’s absurdist thrill in harkening back.

Of course, there’s also a cocky research agent, Will Traeger (Sterling K. Brown), who basically enters and exits scenes with a resume of quippy one-liners, and a civilian scientist, Casey Bracket (Olivia Munn), eventually joining up with Quinn’s escaped group of self-described “loonies”. Black lets many scenes play out with ping-pong dialogue and self-referential bits of humor which more or less works in the hands of such a game cast. Occasionally, he injects doses of graphic violence and standard action beats into the narrative whenever the Predator shows up, accompanied by Henry Jackman’s throwback score, which liberally borrows themes from the original film.

At a certain point, once a larger Predator is introduced, things completely loose all sense of narrative coherency. At times, the film seems edited to within an inch of its life; with characters disappearing and reappearing at will without so much as a single thought to geography or time constraints. However, Black’s propensity for midnight movie thrills; complete with inventive kills, loopy pratfalls, and rambling comedic tangents, keeps The Predator from trailing off into tedium. There’s something comforting about a movie which gives you that thing sorely lacking in big action projects these days; a sense of ludicrous showmanship.

The Predator isn’t the least bit suspenseful or terrifying, but Black’s aims here seem to be more inward-looking. There’s a knowing sense of pessimism, even with the inclusion of some half-baked emotional beats involving Quinn and his autistic son, that permeates the need for these damaged soldiers to strike out against not only evil alien invaders, but also their own government. This is perhaps the film’s most crucial element, since Sterling K. Brown’s vainglorious agent essentially becomes the de facto villain. Therefore, behind the movie’s nonsensical framework about space aliens ravaging our planet, there’s an anarchic attitude about the role of masculinity just waiting to be disemboweled, scattered limb from limb, and strewn throughout the jungle.