It slowly dawned on me why Henry Jackman’s The Predator didn’t achieve the five star rating: everything he does felt meticulous with emotional highs and tremendous take charge moments. However, only some of it belongs in the universe created by Alan Silvestri. Even John Debney’s Predators functioned as an extended line. The newer material was measured from the same cloth, yet it belonged. Technically, there was little at fault in Jackman’s interpretation. Some of the brighter touches evoke the nostalgia of John Williams. Perfectly acceptable. Listening to the music with eyes closed, the bigger orchestral flourishes backed by electronics come across as typical blockbuster stuff. Overall, The Predator earns a respectable four stars.

A poem to elucidate:

Men called upon to strike

One would prefer a bike.

The alpha makes use

Of gadgets and fuse.

Jackman’s nods felt fresh

It all seems to mesh.

There are times it deviated

All fears were alleviated.

“Out of the Cage”

The Predator in a rage.

What’s the next chapter

For this imposing raptor?

Perhaps he could stretch

If he earns another fetch.