As a fan of Schwarzenegger's macho, heart-of-darkness original, it gives me no pleasure to say that Predators is an uninspired mess of mediocre action scenes strung together until the final reel.
What starts with so much promise and intrigue devolves into a more predictable cat- and-mouse game. The fascination wears off as the initial premise never becomes fleshed out and plot holes loom larger than the monstrous mayhem.
Antal is a professional who respects your dollars. In a season where the blockbusters are as flat as month-old soda, that's the most romantic gesture a commercial filmmaker can make.
Some genre movies simply work out this way: Whatever their intentions or origins they percolate for about an hour. And then they sputter and hope that a promising first half will be enough to get by.
Fanboys will jump foursquare upon this movie, rolling around barking in delight and waving their collective paws in the air. That's me over there, third from the left.
All these years after Predator, these decades past the classic film, Most Dangerous Game, that inspired this genre, it's good to see the idea of the hunter becoming the hunted still gets the blood racing.