I’ve been eagerly waiting to watch Predator: Badlands for months. Missing it in cinemas was a disappointment, so seeing it appear on Disney+ felt like a gift. As someone who’s followed the Predator franchise for years, I know it’s had its highs and lows — The Predator (2018) being a particularly rough patch — but overall the series has consistently delivered inventive worlds, brutal action, and that unmistakable hunter‑versus‑hunted tension.

With Dan Trachtenberg returning after the excellent Prey, I felt confident this new entry would be in capable hands. He clearly understands what makes this universe tick, and Badlands proves that again with a bold shift in perspective.

Rather than centring the story on humans, Badlands takes a risk and places the Predator himself — Dek — at the heart of the narrative. It’s a refreshing change that pays off. Dek is a young hunter desperate to prove himself by tracking down an “unkillable” beast, hoping to earn the respect of his father. This personal motivation gives the film a surprising emotional core.

Along his journey, Dek encounters a legless robot who claims to know the creature’s location. Their partnership is unlikely, sometimes awkward, but ultimately compelling. The dynamic between them adds humour, heart, and a sense of growth that you don’t often get in Predator films. Watching these two characters evolve — and challenge each other — is one of the movie’s biggest strengths.

The SFX are genuinely impressive. Aside from the robots, everything is practical effects, and it shows. The alien world feels tactile, dangerous, and alive. Every creature, landscape, and environmental hazard serves a purpose, pushing Dek further along his journey and raising the stakes in meaningful ways.

I wasn’t immediately sold on Dek’s new design — it’s a departure from the classic Predator look — but it grew on me as the film progressed. By the end, it felt like a natural evolution rather than a gimmick. The world itself is beautifully realised, full of strange flora and fauna that make the Badlands feel like a character in its own right.

Action, Emotion, and a Promising Future

The action sequences are sharp, creative, and satisfyingly brutal without ever feeling repetitive. But what surprised me most were the emotional beats. There are genuinely heartfelt moments sprinkled throughout, balanced with well‑timed humour that never undercuts the tension.

The ending leaves the door wide open for a sequel — and honestly, I hope we get one. There’s so much potential in this new direction, and I’d love to spend more time with these characters.

“Have you seen Small Prophets? It’s amazing — you need to watch it.”
That’s all I kept hearing: online, at work, everywhere. So I finally sat down and gave it a go.

Small Prophets is a new BBC comedy series written by Mackenzie Crook, and it centres on Michael Sleep — a man whose partner vanished seven years ago. Since then, he’s been stuck in a quiet, grey routine. Between irritating neighbours, a monotonous job, and caring for his ailing father, Michael simply drifts through life without much purpose.

Everything changes when one of his father’s old stories — about tiny, prophetic creatures who can see the future — suddenly turns out to be true. Michael finds himself drawn into their world, tasked with helping these miniature beings grow in order to uncover the truth behind his partner’s disappearance. It’s a strange premise, but one that unfolds with charm and curiosity.

Tone, Cast, and Performances

Although I didn’t find the show particularly funny, it’s undeniably an easy, pleasant watch. The cast is warm and likeable, and it’s genuinely lovely to see Michael Palin back on screen. His presence adds a gentle, nostalgic weight to the series, grounding the more whimsical elements.

The humour is subtle rather than laugh‑out‑loud, leaning more into character quirks and awkwardness than big comedic set‑pieces. Even without the big laughs, the show maintains a cosy, almost storybook quality that makes it very watchable.

Story and Mystery

The narrative is engaging, with plenty of twists and turns to keep you invested. The central mystery — are the Prophets real, and will Michael finally get answers about his partner’s disappearance — gives the show emotional depth beneath its gentle surface.

It balances whimsy with melancholy in a way that feels very Crook: slightly odd, slightly magical, and quietly human. By the end, I found myself hoping for a second series, not because the story demands it, but because the world is pleasant enough to spend more time in.