The Predator (15.)
Directed by Shane Black.
Starring Boyd Holbrook, Trevante Rhodes, Jacob Tremblay, Olivia Munn, Sterling K. Brown, Keegan-Michael Key, Alfie Allen and Thomas Jane. 107 mins.
He's no Alien, but the giant metallic intergalactic dreadlock hunter The Predator is a pretty fearsome beast, but the one I'd really be afraid of meeting in a dark alley is his agent. This ruthless shark has managed to keep him consistently in work for over three decades, despite there being no pressing call for him to be so. It hasn't always been dignified – the Morecambe and Little double act with Alien in the Vs series; facing off against Adrien Brody in Predators, a mismatch equivalent to Kendo Nagasaki taking on John Inman – but it was work and put food on the table.
This latest resurrection is being overseen by superstar screenwriter Shane Black who appeared in the original Schwarzenegger instalment as fodder. He pumps the film with snappy dialogue, more characterisation and a zippier narrative than previous films. For an hour or so it decent boneheaded entertainment but once the various narrative strands coalesce into a standoff in heartland America it becomes a chore. The plot, never particularly plausible, becomes a disjointed sequence of excessive, pointless and unimaginative action.
It's a betrayal really: after promising a 21st Century upgrade we get a dull exercise in late 80s/early 90s action movie nostalgia. All of Black's effort result in a Predator film that is marginally better than the ones that preceded it.
Black's previous two movies were Iron Man 3 and The Nice Guys, so he was on a bit of a hot streak prior to this. If even he can't make a decent fist of it that ought to be proof that this character just ain't no damn good. Perhaps the reason the film descends into ugly bombastic incoherence is because that is the only logical place for a Predator movie to go.
Directed by Shane Black.
Starring Boyd Holbrook, Trevante Rhodes, Jacob Tremblay, Olivia Munn, Sterling K. Brown, Keegan-Michael Key, Alfie Allen and Thomas Jane. 107 mins.
He's no Alien, but the giant metallic intergalactic dreadlock hunter The Predator is a pretty fearsome beast, but the one I'd really be afraid of meeting in a dark alley is his agent. This ruthless shark has managed to keep him consistently in work for over three decades, despite there being no pressing call for him to be so. It hasn't always been dignified – the Morecambe and Little double act with Alien in the Vs series; facing off against Adrien Brody in Predators, a mismatch equivalent to Kendo Nagasaki taking on John Inman – but it was work and put food on the table.
This latest resurrection is being overseen by superstar screenwriter Shane Black who appeared in the original Schwarzenegger instalment as fodder. He pumps the film with snappy dialogue, more characterisation and a zippier narrative than previous films. For an hour or so it decent boneheaded entertainment but once the various narrative strands coalesce into a standoff in heartland America it becomes a chore. The plot, never particularly plausible, becomes a disjointed sequence of excessive, pointless and unimaginative action.
It's a betrayal really: after promising a 21st Century upgrade we get a dull exercise in late 80s/early 90s action movie nostalgia. All of Black's effort result in a Predator film that is marginally better than the ones that preceded it.
Black's previous two movies were Iron Man 3 and The Nice Guys, so he was on a bit of a hot streak prior to this. If even he can't make a decent fist of it that ought to be proof that this character just ain't no damn good. Perhaps the reason the film descends into ugly bombastic incoherence is because that is the only logical place for a Predator movie to go.
