Predator: Badlands Movie Review - Gorgeous, Grim, and Good Enough To Keep the Franchise Alive

A New Predator, A New Conflict

The previous two entries from Trachtenberg, 2022’s Prey and 2025’s Predator Killer of Killers, struck the ideal balance between scale and soul. They transported you into worlds ruled by instinct, danger, and awe, yet never lost touch with emotion. Badlands, however, finds itself in murkier territory.

At its core, the story is deceptively simple. Dek, a young Yautja, is struggling to find his place in the clan. He is the kind of restless soul desperate to prove his worth to his older brother Kwei and his father, a stern leader who considers him a disgrace.

When the father decides Dek should be eliminated, a series of events pushes the young warrior into a journey of defiance. His only way to prove himself is to do the unthinkable, travel to the deadly planet Genna and capture the mythical Kalisk, a beast no Yautja has ever tamed, not even his own father.

The Planet Genna Beckons

The plot quickly propels Dek into this uncharted world. Through an unforeseen twist, he is transported to Genna, a barren yet beautiful planet. It is here that the heart of Badlands beats. Dek forms an unlikely alliance with Thia, a damaged Weyland Yutani synthetic who is literally half a body, her legs lost somewhere across the wasteland.

Together, this mismatched pair sets off to hunt the Kalisk, and that journey builds the film’s emotional and visual rhythm.

On paper, it all sounds straightforward. And perhaps that is the problem. The film’s simplicity can feel almost too transparent, especially when compared to the intrigue and complexity that Predator stories usually carry.

Predictability Creeps In

Trachtenberg stumbles when it comes to unpredictability. From the first scene, when all odds seem stacked against Dek, you can already sense where it will end.

You can almost predict the beats, the unlikely partnership filled with humor and ideological clashes, a betrayal waiting to happen, new companions appearing out of nowhere, and an eventual triumph over an unbeatable enemy.

This predictability eats away at the tension that once defined the Predator universe. Every twist feels slightly too familiar. The film plays out like a story you have already heard, only told with fancier gadgets and jaw-dropping visuals. And that predictability is what hurts Badlands most.

Where Trachtenberg Still Triumphs

What keeps the film afloat is Trachtenberg’s unmistakable visual vision. If there is one thing the director has proven through Prey and Killer of Killers, it is his ability to do more with less.

Both earlier films had half the budget of today’s spectacle blockbusters, yet they looked richer and more immersive than most studio tentpoles.

Now, with Predator Badlands crafted for the big screen rather than digital release, Trachtenberg finally lets loose, and it shows. The film’s sound design is its secret weapon.

The guttural roars, the echo of alien machinery, and the hum of glowing weaponry envelop the viewer completely. The visuals work hand in hand with this soundscape, transporting you into a world that feels otherworldly yet strangely tangible.

The glowing red saber like guns, the hauntingly beautiful wastelands of Genna, and the sweeping CGI panoramas make for a sensory experience that few recent films can match, especially one not made for hundreds of millions.

The Beauty and the Burden of CGI

In a film like this, every frame bears the weight of digital artistry. The actors, the landscapes, the creatures, all are products of imagination and post production.

That makes it even harder to pull off believability. But here is where Badlands quietly shines. Every detail feels purposeful, every flicker of light and texture contributes to the immersion.

It is a towering technical accomplishment, even when the storytelling falters. Trachtenberg and his team create a universe that is not just a setting but a character in itself.

You sense the hostility, the mystery, and the decay of Genna with every step Dek takes. And even when the film slows down, the spectacle never stops giving you something to look at.

Acting Behind the Masks

Performances add unexpected strength to this world of creatures and chaos. Dimitrius Schuster Koloamatangi, as Dek, delivers remarkable physical acting.

For the entirety of the film, he is hidden behind layers of prosthetics and a bodysuit, yet you can sense every ounce of emotion in his posture and movements. His ability to emote without showing his face is impressive, considering how restrictive the costume must have been.

Elle Fanning, portraying both Thia and Tessa, brings a different kind of nuance. She balances mechanical restraint with flashes of warmth, giving Thia an oddly human soul. She even distinguishes her dual roles with subtle gestures and vocal tones that make each character feel distinctly alive.

Fanning’s portrayal injects much needed humor into the gloom. Whenever the tone risks becoming too bleak or suffocating, her performance lightens the air just enough to keep you engaged.

The Weight of Gloom

Yet the film’s atmosphere often becomes its own obstacle. The post apocalyptic tone, the lack of parallel narratives, and the near constant bleakness make the viewing experience heavy.

It might have worked if the script had been sharper, but the screenplay leaves too much empty space.

There are moments when you wish the story would surprise you, or give you a new emotional layer, but it remains loyal to its template.

The film’s grim beauty can feel repetitive after a while, and the lack of narrative innovation turns that mood into a mild fatigue

A Decent Yet Uneven Journey

Despite these shortcomings, Predator Badlands never feels like a failure. It is not the strongest in Trachtenberg’s trilogy so far. Predator: Killer of Killers remains the high point, followed closely Prey. But even with its predictable story and occasional sluggishness, Badlands holds its own as a cinematic experience.

It offers something visually majestic, and in a world filled with bloated franchises, that in itself feels like a small victory. It is not the kind of spectacle that screams superhero bombast, but a different kind of wonder, quieter, stranger, and occasionally profound.

Trachtenberg clearly set out to experiment with the Predator mythology, to make it more approachable and emotionally broad. He mostly succeeds in doing that, even if the cost is a loss of the primal tension that once made this series iconic.