Predators know that it has to prove itself. After the significant action scares of the Schwarzenegger-powered original, it’s been a franchise on the skids – two Alien crossover films were spectacular disappointments, turning the scariest monsters in cinema into depressing splatter fodder. The problem? Multi-jawed extra-terrestrial horrors only feel menacing when characters you care about are being menaced.
This is why from the first frames, Predators is focused tightly on the humans. Adrien Brody is introduced in freefall, plunging through an alien sky. He isn’t an obvious choice for the new Arnie, but he’s perfect as mega mercenary Royce, cold-eyed, cold-hearted and chisel-chested.
He’s under threat as soon as he lands – but not from Predators. The undergrowth is full of kill-happy humans, plucked from Earth and dropped onto the strange planet to offer the best possible sport to the Preds. It’s Brody’s job to turn this disparate group of death-dealers into a crack anti-Predator force.
There’s white trash nasty Walton Goggins. Sulky-mouthed Israeli Defense Force sniper Alice Bragga. Oh, and doctor Topher Grace, whose misfit status will make you wonder about the Predators’ selection policy and then about him.
Victims racked up; it’s time to start eliminating them. Barring Brody (obviously the star), you can rarely guess who’ll be next to bite it, and the unsentimental alliances among humans are surprisingly engaging. And that makes the Predators properly frightening for the first time in decades. With their cloaking devices and relentless thirst for murder trinkets, they make an impressive enemy.
There are weak spots. Laurence Fishburne’s cameo as a survivor of an earlier prey drop has too much of the apparent crazies about it. And a yakuza/Predator katana duel is good but feels shipped in.
Still, by the time you get to the ‘giant Predator vs little Predator’ show-down, you’re sold. Welcome back, and don’t ever go rubbish again.