Introduction: A Return to Form for a Storied Franchise
Let’s be real for a second: for a long time, being a Predator fan was... exhausting. After the 1987 masterpiece, we spent decades chasing that same high, through sequels and crossovers that just couldn’t quite catch lightning in a bottle twice. We suffered through over-complicated lore, suburban settings, and "Super-Predators" that felt more like video game bosses than actual hunters. Then came Prey, and honestly? My jaw is still on the floor.
Directed by Dan Trachtenberg (who already proved he could breathe new life into a franchise with 10 Cloverfield Lane), this movie didn't just save the series—it reminded us why we fell in love with it in the first place. It stripped away the noise and returned to the primal, terrifying roots of the hunt.
The Personal Rating: 9.5/10
I’m not even kidding. This is the closest any sequel has ever come to the original. It’s lean, mean, and has a heart that’s missing from most modern action flicks. It respects the audience's intelligence and the franchise's legacy in equal measure.
Back to Basics (With a Twist)
The genius of Prey is that it stops trying to be "bigger" and starts being "smarter." Instead of modern soldiers with high-tech gear, we’re dropped into the Comanche Nation in 1719. This historical setting isn't just a gimmick; it’s a brilliant reset button. It levels the playing field in a way that feels fresh but familiar. It’s a concept we’ve been begging for since that flintlock pistol showed up at the end of Predator 2, and seeing that "Raphael Adolini 1715" inscription finally gain its origin story gave me actual chills.
It’s personal. It’s Naru’s story. She’s an aspiring warrior who everyone underestimates, and watching her evolution from a healer to the ultimate apex predator is the most satisfying character arc I’ve seen in years. When she sees that "Thunderbird" (the Predator ship) in the sky, you feel that spark of destiny right along with her. The movie takes its time building her world before the blood starts spilling, making us care about her struggle to be seen by her tribe long before she’s being hunted by an alien.
Authenticity You Can Feel
One thing that really got to me was the respect shown to the Comanche culture. This wasn't just window dressing or a collection of tropes. They had consultants, an Indigenous cast and crew, and a commitment to detail that made the world feel lived-in and vibrant. The landscape itself feels like a character—beautiful, harsh, and indifferent to the violence occurring within it.
Pro-tip: Watch it with the Comanche audio. It changes the whole vibe. When Tabe yells "Isai" (cheater) at the Predator for using its cloak, it hits different. It makes the struggle feel grounded and real, not just like a sci-fi set piece. It reframes the Predator not just as a monster, but as a "cheater" using an unfair advantage against a culture that prizes honorable skill.
Let’s Talk About the "Feral" Predator
Can we talk about how absolutely terrifying this new design is? This isn't the shiny, armored hunter we’re used to. This is the "Feral Predator." It’s raw, it’s visceral, and that bone mask? Pure nightmare fuel. It looks like something that crawled out of a prehistoric cave rather than a spaceship.
I love the theory that the mask comes from a River Ghost (those creatures from the 2010 movie). It feels like this Yautja is from a different, harsher part of their home planet—perhaps a desert hemisphere. He’s sleeker, faster, and he’s here to prove himself just as much as Naru is. The weaponry is a highlight, too. Seeing the early versions of the tech—the shield, the bolt gun, the combistick—it felt like watching a "prototype" version of the hunter we know. The way he tears through a grizzly bear or systematically dismantles a search party? I actually cheered. It’s the most intimidating the creature has been since 1987.
The Contrast of the Hunt: Fur Trappers vs. Yautja
A dimension of the film I loved was the introduction of the French fur trappers. They serve as a brilliant dark mirror to both Naru and the Predator. While Naru hunts for survival and the Predator hunts for honor/sport, the trappers hunt for greed and waste.
The scene with the field of skinned buffalo is genuinely haunting. It highlights the difference between a "warrior" and a "killer." It also sets up one of the best action sequences in the film: the forest massacre. Watching the Feral Predator move through the mist, picking off the trappers who think they’re the ones in control, was peak cinema. It showcased the sheer brutality of this version of the creature, using traps and environment as much as weapons.
The "Aha!" Moment: Brain over Brawn
The final act is a masterclass in tactical storytelling. Most action movies end with a big explosion or a lucky punch, but Prey ends with a brain. Naru doesn't win because she’s stronger; she wins because she’s a healer and a master observer. She learns throughout the whole film, cataloging the Predator's tech, its limitations, and its arrogance.
When she uses the orange Tutsia flower to drop her body temperature—effectively turning the Predator’s own thermal vision against him—I had goosebounds. It’s such a "full circle" moment for her character. She used her knowledge as a healer—the very thing she was told made her "not a hunter"—to become the only person capable of surviving. The way she uses the Predator's own targeting system against it in the mud pit? That is how you write a satisfying payoff. It’s earned, it’s logical, and it’s badass.
Final Thoughts
When the credits rolled—done in that beautiful, narrative hide-painting style—and I saw those extra ships descending in the final frame, I was ready to hit "replay" immediately. Prey didn't just give us a cool monster movie; it gave us a hero we can actually care about in Amber Midthunder’s Naru. She belongs in the pantheon of great action protagonists alongside Dutch and Ripley.
If you haven’t seen it yet, grab some popcorn, turn off the lights, and get ready. This is the hunt we’ve been waiting for. It’s a reminder that sometimes to move a franchise forward, you have to look 300 years into the past.
Verdict: A triumphant, bloody, and deeply moving masterpiece. Long live Naru.
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