Prey (2022)

Prey feels like a franchise reboot done the right way: strip the spectacle down to its primal essentials, then let tension, landscape, and character do the heavy lifting. Dan Trachtenberg stages the action with a clean, nerve-tight clarity, and Amber Midthunder gives Naru a fierce intelligence that makes every choice feel earned rather than scripted. The film’s wilderness atmosphere isn’t just pretty—it’s part of the suspense, turning silence, distance, and patience into weapons as thrilling as any piece of alien tech. If you want wall-to-wall quips or nonstop carnage, this leaner, moodier approach may not be your flavor, but if you’ve missed the Predator series at its most elemental and scary, this is the one to hunt down.

Prey is clearly aiming to refresh the Predator formula with a lean survival-thriller set in Comanche territory, and when it focuses on stalking, tension, and atmosphere, it genuinely works. The catch is that the script can feel a bit thin: character beats are serviceable rather than deep, and the pacing sometimes rushes through setup only to linger where it shouldn’t. If you’re picky about plot logic or “earned” competence, Naru’s effectiveness (and a few convenient turns) may read as unrealistic, and the CGI/tech moments can look uneven depending on your tolerance. Worth it for viewers who want straightforward action and a fresh setting; less so if you need tight writing, consistent realism, and nuanced character development to stay invested.