THE PREDA­TOR

Empire (Australasia) - - ON SCREEN -

DI­REC­TOR Shane Black

CAST Boyd Hol­brook, Tre­vante Rhodes, Ja­cob Trem­blay, Olivia Munn

PLOT Fol­low­ing the events of Preda­tor and Preda­tor 2, hu­man­ity is still be­ing hunted, but a se­cret gov­ern­ment or­gan­i­sa­tion is now wise to the dread-headed aliens’ spine-col­lect­ing vis­its. Af­ter cap­tur­ing one of the crea­tures, they’re shocked to dis­cover it has hu­man DNA — and is be­ing hunted by an­other, big­ger, nas­tier Preda­tor. THERE IS A pleas­ing cir­cu­lar­ity to the fact the first per­son we saw killed by Jim and John Thomas’ Preda­tor in 1987 has re­turned 31 years later to write and di­rect his own in­stal­ment of this seem­ingly un­kil­l­able se­ries. Shane Black (for­merly the un­for­tu­nate Hawkins) has made no se­cret of the fact that he took the gig writ­ing and di­rect­ing The Preda­tor to rekin­dle a sense of lost youth. Which, per­haps un­sur­pris­ingly, means this fourth (non-xenomorph cross­over) en­try in the se­ries is a brazen ex­er­cise in nos­tal­giabut­ton mash­ing.

How well you re­spond to that will more or less de­ter­mine how much you en­joy the movie. Black and Fred Dekker’s script is mot­tled with cheeky call-backs to the first film. In one scene, Olivia Munn (as evo­lu­tion­ary bi­ol­o­gist Casey Bracket) in­verts Arnold Sch­warzeneg­ger’s ex­cla­ma­tion at see­ing the un­masked alien hunter (“You are one beau­ti­ful moth­er­fucker”); in an­other, Tre­vante Rhodes’ Ne­braska points to a row of con­ve­niently placed Harley-david­sons and yells, “Get to the chop­pers!” The story opens in a jun­gle (like the first film), then swiftly moves to the city (like the sec­ond). It cen­tres on a crew of tooled-up badasses, al­beit this time a rag-tag gag­gle of ex-sol­diers known rather in­sen­si­tively as “The Loonies”. And, like all pre­vi­ous Preda­tors, it is bru­tally vi­o­lent and ex­tremely gory.

As some­one who once found him­self at the sharp end of a wrist blade, Black ap­pre­ci­ates that vis­cera need to fly. And fly they do, freely and of­ten, in a propul­sive, self-know­ingly OTT ac­tion-chase nar­ra­tive that starts strongly as The Loonies buddy up with rogue sniper Quinn Mckenna (Boyd Hol­brook) and Munn’s spiky egghead to tackle the tit­u­lar “space-alien” — and the up­graded, un­for­tu­nately Cgi-de­pen­dent, Hulk-like mega-pred that’s on its tail.

But there is a ma­li­cious glee­ful­ness to the vi­o­lence that un­moors the story as the ram­page rum­bles on. It is one thing to have Preda­tors gut­ting, fil­let­ing and ex­plod­ing peo­ple all over the shop, but to show Mckenna coldly kill a man with a tran­quiliser dart shot into his eye­ball at point-blank range — in front of his young son (Ja­cob Trem­blay), no less — and then make a joke about it, dis­plays a squirmy ab­sence of em­pa­thy.

There’s also a sloppy chop­pi­ness to the ac­tion that ren­ders later se­quences vir­tu­ally sense­less. Black cuts and zips around so fran­ti­cally that fine de­tail is smeared and po­ten­tially good gags (in­clud­ing one in­volv­ing a char­ac­ter wear­ing a Preda­tor shoul­der-can­non) go barely regis­tered. He’s hav­ing such fun be­ing an ’80s ac­tion gore-hound kid again, he’s for­got­ten that view­ers ac­tu­ally need to fol­low the game he’s play­ing.

Still, the film ben­e­fits from a scrappy, sar­donic ap­peal to the char­ac­ter in­ter­play (if rather ret­ro­grade in its at­ti­tude to men­tal is­sues), with a solid, win­ning sup­port­ing class, in­clud­ing Ster­ling K. Brown as a snide Preda­torhunter who doesn’t get the screen time he de­serves. And Black and Dekker build on the lore in an in­trigu­ing way that fans might ap­pre­ci­ate as much as they do the writ­ers’ droll re­spect for the orig­i­nal. DAN JOLIN

VER­DICT Un­even, oc­ca­sion­ally un­savoury and at times frus­trat­ingly mud­dled, but there’s enough bloody, ’80s-style fun in The Preda­tor to give it a pass from long-term fans.

The first date wasn’t go­ing so well.

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