The above extract from a poem by Sassoon is the first image recalled when one encounters the setup for Predators. A group consisting of criminals and elite soldiers (and one civilian) are dropped into a strange limbo of a planet, where they soon realize that others have come before them, and others will come after them, all of whom are here to be hunted by the alien warrior race known as the Predators. And while formidable on Earth, here they will need all their wits and all their courage to survive. Quickly making himself leader of this lot is Royce (Adrien Brody), a professional mercenary, whose toughness and ruthlessness are matched by the headstrong Isabel (Alice Braga), who keeps trying to retain her sense of decency as the odds pile up against them. Along way, they come across Laurence Fishburne, looking suspiciously well-fed despite having to spend time on the run and foraging for food, and even moreso when he serves them mystery meat for dinner.
After seeing this occasionally well-filmed but still contrived and often predictable mess, I need to get this off my chest: out of all the Predators leads, Adrien Brody and Alice Braga may be the least convincing ever. They never feel more kids playing soldiers after rolling around in the mud and doing the “bang bang, you’re dead!” thing in the playground sandbox. Brody plays his part like a bulked-up nerd trying to essay Clint Eastwood’s narrow-eyed snarls. Braga is even more vapid. None of them have the feel in their eyes or in their voice of a battle-hardened veteran. At the end of the film you feel like Mom needs to call them all home for dinner and give them a nice hot bath. This is especially so when the supporting cast includes Danny Trejo (he of the badass henchman face) and Laurence Fishburne (who still is Morpheus-like, even having put on a few pounds).
If the modern “action” movie is often described as a poor man’s Hemingway (who is quoted in this movie), with modern action heroes as analogues to Hemingway’s Robert Jordan (who still believes the world is a fine place and worth the fighting for even when reality lets him down), Predators also attempts to be a poor man’s Sassoon too, with small bits in the scripting where these soldiers and criminals let on bits of their pasts as they are faced with death and try in vain to break out of being stereotypes. Nimrod Antal, having made the superb slasher Vacancy a few years ago, cannot be forgiven for lack of ambition even when attempting to deal with what is basically B-movie material. Alex Litvak and Michael Finch’s script however, offers some twists that fail to overcome the many contrived moments and even old-hat cliches (like any soldier who shows photos of his family WILL die). While his ambition accompanied with his occasionally keen sense of visual style and composition, are the raw material for a great pop filmmaker, there has yet to be an opportunity for Nimrod to process that raw material into something great.
Predators is probably this year’s answer to GI Joe: The Rise of Cobra, the feeling you get once you’ve finished watching it begs you to ask: “Now that I’ve seen the game, can I play the movie?”
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