Predators

Though it could be said for any movie that what you expect can largely dictate what you get out of it, I think this is true for Predators more than most. Predators intends (for reasons the director keeps close to the vest for a portion of the movie, and which I will not spoil) to look at the production and lasting impact of the mid-00's true crime show To Catch A Predator, where stings were conducted to catch wannabe sex predators looking to have sex with children. Predators is a documentary seeking answers to questions, and I don't think it finds them, but I don't think that's the fault of the documentary. I think it's because the issues Predators raises are too complex and nuanced to have simple, binary yes/no answers. For instance, there are interviews with law enforcement that cooperated with the show that give some behind-the-scenes context. A former DA is proud of the stings and the results it generated, and considers every guy caught to be an irredeemable monster who should be locked in the deepest dungeon. There's a great moment where he's shown un-aired footage of one of the perpetrators breaking down in shame and regret, admitting he's sick and needs help, and he's thankful to have been caught, and the DA is suddenly confronted with the concept that these men are still human beings, deeply flawed and broken, and while stopping them before they could commit a crime is a good thing, maybe the ends didn't justify the means. Conversely, there's a former officer who participated in the disastrous Texas stings that led to one suspect killing himself before he could be apprehended, and the show's eventual cancellation. That officer looks back on his experience as nothing but terrible, as the show had such control over the situation and were so concerned with how it was captured, that enforcing the law became secondary to the entertainment factor. He can't take any pride in arresting dozens of men before they could commit a heinous crime, because it all felt performative and exploitative more than the execution of justice (and it doesn't help that all the cases were dropped by the DA as unprosecutable, due to the videotaped interviews not being conducted by law enforcement or under the protection of Miranda). Who is right here? Is making law enforcement entertainment ethical? Is broadcasting these men at their worst moment, focusing on the bust more than seeing if they could benefit from professional help, doing more harm than good? Or is it all for the greater good for the potential victims who don't know they were just saved? What about the cottage industry of imitators on YouTube, who don't do this in conjunction with law enforcement? One is highlighted, literally doing a Chris Hansen imitation, right down to the "why don't you take a seat" and the blazer and everything. He even takes the surname Hansen as an "homage". But there are no cops in sight, and when one bust goes sideways and the perp expresses suicidal ideation, he's suddenly out of his depth. Is he doing a public service, or is he just in it because making a living in the true crime genre is like shooting fish in a barrel? Are his actions noble or is he a reckless vigilante and a mawkish opportunist? And what of Chris Hansen making this his entire career to this day? Predators shows the inspiration for it, where a story he did about the child sex trade in Cambodia, and how helping some trafficking victims get free inspired him to look into the threat of online predators in the US. But then we see the story of one of the people he caught in the sting, an 18 year old looking to hook up with a 15 year old, an age difference which is legal in many (but not all) states. Even his producer says that freshman/senior dating is not uncommon, and that's inside this range, and yet, they go ahead with airing the segment, which ruins this kid's life. Is Hansen serving a greater good here, or has he lost sight of the good and is now just chasing clicks, regardless of the damage it may cause? As I said, Predators asks all these questions and challenges you in how you feel about them. It doesn't claim to know the answers, because there aren't any. Life is not a yes/no question, and neither is this. If you're hoping for some gotcha-style expose on TCAP and Hansen, you're in for a disappointment. Likewise if you're looking for 100 minutes of copaganda and blowing smoke. Predators is not that simple, because the issue isn't that simple. That being said, there are some shortcomings. I would've liked to see interviews with people from Perverted Justice, the watchdog group Hansen and law enforcement partnered with to conduct the online baiting of perps, to see if they felt the results were worth it. I also would've liked to see some follow-up on some of the men caught in the stings, to see if they got help and if they valued their experience. Most notably, though, I would've liked to see more of the interview with Hansen. For being the man at the center of it all, this part felt oddly short-changed. Also, the film has some strange structural choices. The director, David Osit, has plenty of experience in film-making, so I'm left wondering why he has so many shots that linger for so long in a documentary film. Or the point of the final sequence, where Hansen is dismissed from his interview with a phrase similar to how he'd dismiss perps on TCAP, and cameras follow him out the building to his car much the same way cameras would follow the perp out to the waiting hands of the police. If this was staged, it's cheesy and casts doubt on the entire film. If it's real, it seems pointless and indulgent, especially since it takes a good minute and a half. Predators is not a comfortable watch. If you're open-minded, it will challenge you on a number of fronts, and you likely won't walk away with confident answers. In a weird way, though, it represents something that true crime as a whole should aspire to: not chase salaciousness and sensationalizing content, but deeper reflection, on the people who commit crimes, the industry that wants to monetize it as entertainment, and the audience willing to munch popcorn while they get a kick out seeing human beings at their worst.