Review: Predator: Killer of Killers is the high point of the franchise

Predator isn't a franchise that is dear to my heart. I didn't grow up with it. I came to it late in life, and found it not to my liking. Aside from Prey, the thrilling straight-to-Hulu entry from a few years ago that pitted the iconic sci-fi monster against a young Comanche woman, I haven't really vibed with the series. I don't know if there's something in the conceit that doesn't do it for me, or if I just generally don't care for how it's drawn out. But I knew that I wanted the future of the franchise to lean more into what Prey had going on. That seemed like the only way I was going to continue to be in for the ride.

And that's precisely what Predator: Killer of Killers does. Dan Trachtenberg, who directed Prey, also has the reins here, and the result is now my new high point for the franchise. An animated triptych that contains surprising emotional depths (I certainly wasn't expecting it to make me cry, even considering how easy a movie crier as I am), this also straight-to-Hulu film is So. Fucking. Awesome. It sort of takes the Prey formula, multiplies it by three, but does enough twisting that it never feels repetitive. There's no been-there-done-that, even from story to story. It's consistently inventive, surprising, and exciting. I loved it.

The basic premise of the anthology film is watching Predator face off with different human opponents in varied historical settings. There are three segments -- named The Shield, The Sword, and The Bullet -- which each center a different hero. First up is Viking warrior Ursa, who leads her son on a quest for vengeance against the the man who killed her father many years ago. Next, we move to feudal Japan, where Kenji, a ninja, faces off against the brother who betrayed him in his youth, and is now set to become lord of the kingdom. Finally, we meet Johnny Torres, a spirited WWII pilot whose pitfalls as a mechanic are made up for by his will and creativity.

These settings are obviously extremely distinct from each other, which would probably have been enough to make for a decent movie. But smartly, the Predator who shows up in each chapter is also different. Each of the three has a different build, different weapons, even (somewhat) different temperaments. It makes the action in each part pop and stand out, all of it gorgeously rendered. Tonally, each part also stands on its own. Ursa opens the film with gravity, brutality -- like God of War. Kenji's story is almost completely silent, poetic. Torres's almost feels light-hearted at times, like an adventure movie with lots of one-liners and comedic beats. 

They're all united by the animation style, which finds an interesting sweet-spot between CGI and a more hand-drawn look. It recalls something like the Telltale Walking Dead games or the recent Watchmen animated movies, a little video game-y, a little comic book-y, maybe a little wood carving-y. It's hard to describe, but it looks great, and is especially well-suited for the action scenes, which are fluid and brutal and heavy, so thoughtfully choreographed. Like...this movie is so cool. There are so many "Oh shit!" moments that had me on the edge of my seat. 

Then there's the larger frame that contains the three stories, and ties them together. At first, I wasn't sure I loved what was happening, but by the end, I really saw the vision, thanks to an awesome action finale and a few moments of really touching emotional pay-off. 

I also love the underlying idea of Predator coming to Earth over and over again, which I guess is a connecting cord throughout the whole franchise, and feels especially relevant in this case. The history of humanity is a history of violence, time and time again. Between different groups, different countries, or within a family unit. At any point in the existence of humanity, Predator could land here and find violence, which of course if their whole MO. There's a pull between if that violence is an inescapable cycle or if it's something we can choose to break and exclude ourselves from. Are we determining our own fate on that front, or are we at the mercy of larger forces which will always bend us back toward violence? 

Honestly, I didn't know that a Predator movie would have me considering such ideas, and it makes me wonder if I was too harsh on the older entries, if I should give them another chance. Maybe I will ahead of the next theatrical outing later this year. Regardless of where I land with them, I'm glad to have this entry, and I'm glad that Trachtenberg is committed to telling such compelling stories within this franchise.