The “Predator” franchise has seen a creative resurgence since the release of “Prey.” That momentum shows no signs of slowing—so long as it remains in the hands of visionary storytellers like Dan Trachtenberg. While a new live-action film is slated for release in theaters later this year, “Predator: Killer of Killers” takes a different route. By delivering an ambitious animated side story that expands the franchise’s lore across three distinct timelines, longtime fans will gain a new perspective on the Predator. One that blends brutal action with bold world-building and character-driven stories.
Directed by Trachtenberg, who also helmed “Prey” and the upcoming sequel “Predator: Badlands,” the film draws on the franchise’s sci-fi action roots by unfolding across three distinct time periods. By doing so, audiences will get to see how the alien-hunting creatures have faced off against the greatest killers of the Viking age, the era of Feudal Japan, and American ace pilots of World War II. All of it culminates in a climatic battle on the Yaujta’s home planet.
But “Predator: Killer of Killers” is more than just an anthology of stylish battles—it’s a compilation of character-driven stories that explore themes of honor, survival, and legacy across vastly different cultures and time periods. Each segment doesn’t just showcase thrilling action; it grounds the spectacle in personal stakes, giving the human characters just as much narrative weight as their extraterrestrial foes.
The film opens with a brief exposition that explains the Yaujta’s philosophy of the hunt. They are told to “Go forth among the stars and seek only the strongest prey. They shall be your trophy. The Killer of Killers.”
The first chapter, “The Shield,” which uses a combination of Old Norse and English, follows Ursa (Lindsay LaVanchy), a Viking warrior, as she marches to war with her son. Her rage is rooted in personal trauma, as revealed in a gorgeously haunting campfire flashback where she recounts being forced to kill her own father by the Krivich warlord Zoran. The memory is illustrated with stark shadows and firelit anguish, setting the emotional stakes. What follows is a vicious siege executed in a stunning one-shot animated sequence that’s filled with an explosion of flying arrows, clashing shields, and plenty of disembodiment that briefly distracts from the film’s sci-fi underpinnings. That is until the bulky and brash Predator wielding a powerful sonic weapon reveals itself. The Vikings call it Grendel—an inspired narrative choice that recontextualizes the alien as myth incarnate.
Although the emotionally charged chapter is gorgeous in its visuals and kinetic action, it distinguishes itself with its portrayal of the parent-child dynamic. Ursa may be a grieving warrior who wants to avenge her father’s death. Still, the reality is that she is also a mother who bonds with her son during the savagery of war. Which makes that relationship hurt even more when we see her collared by the Yaujta and imprisoned with fellow warriors.
Chapter two, “Sword,” shifts to Feudal Japan, where two estranged brothers, Kenji and Kiyoshi (Louis Ozawa) are torn apart by rivalry created by their father, and reunited years later in a quiet village. This segment’s strengths lie in its lack of dialogue, allowing the visuals to speak for themselves. Between the serene glade, moonlit rooftops, and quiet blades, it’s a chapter that celebrates a different story and its unique tones and narrative demands. The returning brother is now a stealthy assassin, moving with surgical precision through enemy ranks. Every moment is about tension and restraint—catching guards mid-fall, silencing them before alarms can ring. The Predator here is leaner, more methodical, lurking above like a shadow in darkness.
But the real poetry lies in the story’s cyclical structure. The final confrontation returns to the forest clearing where the brothers once played with paper boats and wooden swords. Now, they stand as warriors—older, scarred, and bound by fate—facing a shared enemy that represents more than just survival. It’s a quietly devastating moment, elevated by visual callbacks and the unspoken tragedy of lost time. The conflict between the two is internal and stems from guilt, rivalry, and regret.
The next chapter, titled ‘”The Bullet,” jumps to 1941 Florida and introduces John Torres (Rick Gonzales), a young Hispanic dreamer with his head in the clouds and his heart in the cockpit. He wants to fly, as noted by his need to race the family car against a plane. Set against Glenn Miller’s “In the Mood,” the boogie-woogie beat sets the energetic tone, where you see a smile on John’s face and him breathing in the moment. John’s father warns that he can’t keep bailing him out forever. So when war calls, and monsters take to the skies, John’s lofty ambition turns into something more urgent: the need to prove himself, not just as a pilot, but as someone his father can be proud of.
The story jumps ahead one year to the Atlantic, where John is now a grounded pilot, stuck trying to fix a busted plane. He applies everything his father once taught him, as noted by a photo of himself and his father in front of the family auto shop. Still, the engine remains stubbornly silent—much like his ambitions. He pleads with his superior, Vandy, to let him fly, but Vandy shuts him down, saying that there’s more to speed and maneuvering when one is in the sky.
It’s something that he takes to heart when a Yaujta pilot starts targeting American planes. One surviving pilot who managed to make it back to an aircraft carrier screams about “hooks in the sky.” John sees the carnage from the ground and zeroes in on one of the alien weapons lodged in a wrecked fuselage. Something isn’t right. And Vandy, as he gears up to return to the fight, orders John to have the plane fixed by the time he gets back.
Of course, after studying the weapon, John sees that the pilots will be no match for whatever is out there. So, despite not being able to get a message out there, John takes it upon himself to deliver the warning but ends up getting caught in the fight himself. Though he gets respect from Vandy, his superior, he is forced to take on the enemy on his own after Vandy sacrifices himself to give John the opening he needs to take it out. It’s an aerial dogfight that’s fast-moving and exciting to watch as it takes audiences through a city and a fleet of enemy ships that try to blast John out of the sky.
In a desperate bid to bring down the massive Yautja ship, John draws on everything his father ever taught him—turning engineering knowledge into instinct and instinct into strategy. His victory is hard-won and awe-inspiring, a testament to human ingenuity in the face of overwhelming odds. For a fleeting moment, it feels like he might actually return home as a hero. But that hope is short-lived. Like Ursa and the Japanese warrior before him, John is captured and collared.
Only this time, the stakes are even higher.
The three warriors—each plucked from a different era, each forged by a different kind of war—are thrown into a gladiatorial arena on the Yautja homeworld. There, they are confronted by a towering Predator King, his armor draped in a cape made of alien spines – trophies from creatures we’ve seen before in the wider franchise. The message, which is delivered in a language they only understand, is clear: only one will earn the right to face him in combat.
Indeed, the language barrier is a significant issue, as is their limited understanding of the current situation. However, they can overcome their individual desires to survive and work as a cohesive unit. They are given weapons from their respective tribes, which is a clever way to celebrate the individual warrior while incorporating a fun Easter egg. The battle also ties in with the character beats and fighting styles of the previous chapters.
Even in its animated form, Predator: Killer of Killers is an explosive expansion of the mythology—high on action, drenched in blood, and brought to life through a bold animated lens. It’s a film that doesn’t just go bigger; it digs deeper, exploring untold corners of the franchise and expanding the story in unexpected, thrilling ways.
The unfortunate part of all this is that confining this film of this scale and size to a TV screen won’t have the same impact one would get if one were to watch it in a theater. That said, the film still hits those emotional and narrative beats, allowing the audience to stay fully engaged with what’s happening.
That said, Predator: Killer of Killers earns every moment it’s given in more ways than one. Micho Robert Rutare’s script, co-created with Dan Trachtenberg, not only pays homage to the rich mythology of the franchise but also elevates it by deeply honoring the characters’ personal journeys across vastly different eras. The narrative deftly balances brutal, visceral action with thoughtful exploration of themes like honor, survival, and legacy—giving weight and nuance to a story that could have easily been just another fight sequence. And all of that unfolds through the beautiful lens of animation.
9/10
Predator: Killer of Killers streams on Hulu June 6, 2025
