Predator: Badlands is the boldest swing this franchise has taken since the original, and maybe the most fascinating one it’s ever attempted. Turning the Predator into the protagonist sounds like sacrilege on paper, the kind of idea that feels designed to break what little purity the concept has left. And yet, somehow, Badlands mostly pulls it off. Not by sanding the Predator down into something cuddly or familiar, but by reframing the hunt itself as a story about exile, identity, and survival.
Coming off the focused elegance of Prey, Dan Trachtenberg clearly wasn’t interested in repeating himself. Badlands is bigger, stranger, and more mythic. It drops us onto Genna, a hostile death planet that feels less like a location and more like a living trial. Everything wants to kill you. The ground, the creatures, the weather, even the silence. It’s a world that makes Earth look forgiving, and it immediately justifies why a Predator story belongs here.
The Predator as the Underdog
The most important choice Badlands makes is casting Dek not as an apex force, but as a runt. He’s smaller, weaker, exiled by his own clan, and sent on what amounts to a suicide mission. This alone flips the power dynamic that defines most Predator movies. Instead of watching elite warriors get picked off by an unstoppable hunter, we’re watching a hunter who doesn’t fully belong anywhere trying to prove he deserves to exist at all.
That perspective shift is risky, but it gives the film emotional traction it shouldn’t logically have. Dek isn’t heroic in a traditional sense. He’s stubborn, impulsive, and driven by shame as much as ambition. But watching him learn how to hunt on a planet that doesn’t care about his cultural codes or his inherited tech makes for compelling drama. This is Predator as a coming-of-age survival story, and against all odds, it works.
A World That Eats You Alive
Genna is one of the most impressive environments the franchise has ever created. Every frame feels hostile, layered with strange flora, predatory creatures, and an oppressive sense of scale. There’s a clear influence of pulp fantasy and brutalist sci-fi here, but it never feels derivative. The planet constantly reminds you that Dek is out of his depth, which keeps the tension grounded even when the story veers into operatic territory.
The apex predator Dek is tasked with hunting, the Kalisk, is less a monster and more a force of nature. Its regenerative abilities and sheer physical presence make it feel almost mythological, which smartly mirrors Dek’s internal struggle. Killing it isn’t just about survival. It’s about worth.
An Unexpectedly Human Core
Elle Fanning’s dual performance as Thia and Tessa gives Badlands its emotional spine. Thia, in particular, is crucial to why the film works. She brings warmth, humor, and curiosity into a story that could have easily drowned in grim stoicism. Her dynamic with Dek is uneasy at first, then quietly affecting as both characters confront what loyalty and identity actually mean.
The decision to weave in Weyland-Yutani androids is a dangerous crossover move, but Badlands handles it with surprising restraint. The corporate presence feels invasive and opportunistic rather than dominant, reinforcing the theme that exploitation looks the same no matter the species. Tessa’s cold efficiency stands in stark contrast to Thia’s evolving empathy, and their conflict adds a layer of ideological tension the film wouldn’t have had otherwise.
Violence With Purpose
For a PG-13 Predator movie, Badlands is far more brutal than expected, though not always in the way longtime fans might want. The violence is cleaner, less indulgent, but still impactful. The action sequences are thoughtfully staged, emphasizing improvisation and environmental storytelling over raw gore. Watching Dek lose his weapons and adapt using the planet itself feels very much in the spirit of the franchise, even when the tone is more introspective than usual.
That said, the film occasionally overreaches. Some emotional beats land harder than others, and a few character moments feel a little too neat for a story this savage. There are times when the Predator’s humanity risks softening the mystique a bit too much, and I can understand why some fans might bristle at that.
A Worthy Evolution
I really liked Predator: Badlands. It’s ambitious, visually striking, and thematically richer than it has any right to be. It doesn’t replace the original or Prey, and it doesn’t need to. Instead, it expands what a Predator story can look like without drowning itself in lore or irony. Not every risk pays off, but the confidence behind those risks matters.
This is a franchise film that actually has something on its mind, about legacy, exile, and choosing your own clan. For that alone, Badlands earns a strong 4 out of 5. It’s not perfect, but it’s brave, and after decades of playing it safe or playing it loud, that feels like a victory.