Max Downey

Given that lobotomised prepubescent boys are a relatively small demographic, I’m not quite sure whom the directors and producers were thinking of when they birthed The Predator. Mindless and b-grade, the movie treats its source material with all the love and respect that a furry on Tumblr might treat the family dog. The movie is unable to decide whether it wants to be an ultra-violent action flick or a schlocky black comedy and oscillates awkwardly between the two extremes. Perhaps the movie was meant as a parody, satirising the classic action movies of the 80s – unfortunately, if this was the intent then it fails, becoming a caricature of a caricature, but lacking any sense of self-awareness or irony that would make this become anything but truly tragic. The Predator is unabashedly politically incorrect. The protagonist’s son is on the spectrum, “he’s got arse burgers”; apparently the next step in human evolution. The protagonist himself relishes in his toxic masculinity “are you dangerous?” “I’m a solider, I certainly hope so” and the female lead, a molecular biologist, is a crack shot with automatic weapons (unfortunately less so with the tranquiliser that she shoots herself in the foot with). It’s probably unfair to attribute malice or design to The Predator’s handling of social issues, like its self-deprecating parody this was most likely an unfortunate accident. The movie has little in it to recommend and runs a very high risk of destroying pleasant childhood memories of Arnie, Vietnam and Miniguns. Avoid it. 1 Dumpster Fire out of 5