Every follow-up to John McTiernan and Arnold Schwarzenegger’s 1987 Predator has tried to concoct a high-concept twist, be it situating its alien killer in the big city (Predator 2), pitting it against acid-bleeding Xenomorphs (Alien vs. Predator), traveling off-world (Predators) or doing whatever it was that The Predator was attempting. Prey, thankfully, eschews such more-is-better inventiveness, taking a back-to-basics approach to its material and, in doing so, crafts the franchise’s finest follow-up by a significant margin. The hunters are once again also the hunted in Dan Trachtenberg’s stripped-down survival-horror gem, whose sole shortcoming turns out to be its theatrical unavailability—those with a hankering for this human-vs.-extraterrestrial carnage will only find it on Hulu beginning August. 5.
Written by Patrick Aison, Prey goes old-school both in its approach to the series and with its setting. The year is 1719, and in the Comanche Nation in the Great Northern Plains, Naru (Amber Midthunder) yearns to be a warrior. Trachtenberg shoots her in either close-ups that fixate on her intensely driven glare or in low-angled compositions that stress her formidable character. Naru should clearly not be taken lightly, and yet that’s just what she is by her comrades save for her brother Taabe (Dakota Beavers), a fearsome hunter who recognizes his sister’s ability and tells her that the only way she’ll be considered the equal of her male peers is to confirm it in the wild. Fortunately, a lion hunt provides her with just that opportunity, as well as a chance to demonstrate her skill with natural medicines—including, in particular, an orange herb that heals by lowering body temperature.
Midthunder is an arresting big-screen presence, her large eyes and coiled body language imparting everything we need to know about her independent, no-nonsense heroine. The sexist mistreatment that Naru suffers affords a modern undercurrent, but Trachtenberg shrewdly sidesteps any timely commentary that might burden his fleet, ferocious film. That also holds true for a later encounter with a group of nasty French trappers, who function less as vehicles for anti-colonial finger-wagging—though their out-of-their-element ugliness is plain for all to see—than as complicating factors for Midthunder’s protagonist, not to mention fodder for the monster. At every turn, Aison and Trachtenberg favor adrenalized thrills over thematic sermonizing, the result being a lean, mean B-movie that’s been constructed with the formal beauty, cleverness and efficiency of an A-list effort.
As Naru strives to validate her hunting prowess to her macho tribesmen, an alien ship drops off into this forested region a Predator (Dane DiLiegro), who per tradition stalks his game with the aid of infrared vision that picks up on heat signatures, laser-guided weaponry, a giant two-pronged claw, and reflective camouflage technology that turns his body into a shimmering shadow. No reason is given regarding why the Predator has been left alone in this expanse. Still, the fact that he spends his time pursuing ever-more challenging beasts—first a snake, then a bear, and finally humans—and cleans and wears the trophy skulls of his kills on his waist suggest that he’s on Earth to prove himself. He’s a kindred spirit to Naru, and thus ultimately destined to face off against her.
Before that skirmish can occur, Prey patiently builds anxiety through sequences that place a premium on the interplay between close-proximity brutality and wide-open panoramas of the Great Plains, the latter often so awesome and majestic that they threaten to dwarf Naru and her beloved canine companion. Trachtenberg cares little for symbolism but he’s highly attuned to the rugged and unforgiving nature of this unspoiled landscape, and the fear and opportunity that come from the arrival of violent interlopers. A nocturnal clash with a rampaging cat is an early indication that such 18th-century life is precious, perilous and potentially fleeting, and if his somewhat obvious CGI (especially for wildlife) occasionally breaks the proceedings’ primal illusion, the director nonetheless stages his action with serpentine grace that has a habit of exploding in great, big bursts of decapitation-heavy bloodshed.
Prey stays true to the roots of its iconic villain, all while reimagining his gear in more primitive terms; while his spears and arrows still find their mark courtesy of three little red targeting lights, his body is unprotected by armor and his helmet is not the smooth façade that fans know and love but, rather, a more animalistic bone-y variation. Like Naru, this Predator is a no-frills sort of slayer, more comfortable in the mud and muck than at home tending to the sick or nurturing the young. The creature’s climactic throwdown with Naru boasts the same nitty-gritty quality that defined Schwarzenegger’s original alien tête-à-tête, and Aison and Trachtenberg establish it through a series of incidents that are tense on their own and subtly pave the way for Naru’s strategy against her imposing adversary, who rarely appears vulnerable to a puny human. It’s hard to envision more than one outcome to the film’s David-vs.-Goliath battle, yet the script is cagey and pulse-pounding enough to keep things in constant doubt—or, at least, to focus one’s attention less on the destination than on the constantly unfolding mayhem.
In that regard, Prey is the epitome of properly executed genre filmmaking, lacing familiar circumstances with an ingenuity and terror that makes it feel fresh. Trachtenberg’s slow-motion panoramas of Native American warriors leaping through the air, their spear or blade raised high overhead as they plummet toward their quarry, are painterly and propulsive, and his story’s raft of small, sharp touches—such as Naru’s creative decision to tie a rope to her hand axe so she can swiftly recall and reuse it—give it a measure of personality that sets it apart from its post-1987 predecessors. This franchise entry has a borderline-elemental energy that feels just right for a tale about an Indigenous woman fending off a murderous trespasser whose only intention is slaughter (for entertainment and for conquest). It would serve as a fantastic starting point for an entirely new generation of Predator sagas, although one almost hopes that doesn’t happen, lest those subsequent installments spoil the splendid suspense of this stand-alone prequel.
