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‘Predators’ Review: A Not-So-Fondly Examination Of ‘To Catch a Predator’ [w sees Sundance]

It might resemble the process of setting up for any documentary: as “Predators” begins, camera crews assemble equipment, angles are established, and on-screen talent takes their place. This, however, is not a documentary; rather, these are shots from behind the scenes of “To Catch a Predator,” a recurring segment on the seminal news program Dateline NBC that became a cultural landmark for much of the mid-’00s and made a star out of journalist/host Chris Hansen. A sting operation from the jump, the concept involved Dateline aligning with internet watchdog group Perverted Justice in an effort to lure scores of men, all of whom have recently engaged in explicit online conversation with someone they believe to be underage, to a house rigged with hidden cameras, where a brief chat with a decoy quickly leads to the reveal of Hansen. An exchange of dialogue with the host eventually sees the subject leave the premises, only to be apprehended by law enforcement moments later. Rinse and repeat.

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There’s no denying the success of “Predators,” with the segment returning time after time, catapulting Hansen into the public consciousness and the show achieving a level of memorable hilarity due in no small part to reruns and eventual upload of the show to sites such as YouTube. Seeing these men, all of whom have made a grievous error at their lowest moment, sent a collective smile across the face of those who craved just that as much as they adored Hansen’s effortless, witty approach whilst he conducted his interviews…yet, the show wasn’t without controversy, nor was it able to escape the questions as people began to wonder if this, truly, was the best way to handle such an issue. Was there more audiences weren’t seeing?

I’ll say this. If you loved “To Catch a Predator,” your opinion may change after viewing this film.

Expecting a fond look back at a game-changing news program, with upbeat interviews from Hansen and his team as they reflect on the years making their show what it became and what may be yet to come? That’s not this kind of film. Some of the first to be interviewed are those who portrayed the decoys, those meant to represent the living, breathing embodiment of the person each man who arrived at the house believed they’d been conversing with for some time as they cringed while watching old clips, it’s made clear the pressure each felt during these interactions as they set the stage for Hansen’s appearance. Ethnographer Mark de Rond, who for twenty years has studied human behavior, watches the raw footage with wide-eyed interest as he realizes the slant NBC gave the show, as the unedited video shows someone undeniably having committed their worst act and struggling in the hours after to make sense of it all, even begging for therapy as they bemoan this moment.

On the other side of the coin sits former Kentucky Attorney General Gregory Stumbo, unwavering in his stance on immediate punishment instead of long-term rehabilitation. This all leads to arguably the most talked-about incident in the history of “To Catch a Predator,” when Texas Assistant Attorney General Bill Conradt, following a series of conversations with a decoy that failed to see him turn up at the infamous house, committed suicide when the show broke protocol and sent both Hansen’s team along with a small army of law enforcement to Conradt’s residence. It’s this that brings up complicated feelings within Dan Schrack, the decoy who spoke on the phone with Conradt, and eventually leads to further questions when it’s shown how NBC asked the officials of Collin County, Texas, for participation in this segment; when the latter refused, the former proceeded anyway.  

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Many who were on the receiving end of Hansen during these visits wouldn’t recognize this face of Dateline, instead asking if he was the decoy’s parent, some therapist, or even a cop; obviously, Hansen was none of these, and those same members of Collin County law enforcement would soon express their discontent over how Hansen’s lack of a badge and, thus, reading of Miranda rights seem to render these visits non-prosecutable. Even as “Predator” came to an end, a bevy of copycats, seemingly more focused on the drama of a thrilling public encounter and acquiring clicks, began to emerge, such as Hansen facsimile Skeet Hansen, with a YouTube channel as close to its predecessor as it gets; with “Predators” director David Osit tagging along to capture several Skeet stings on video, a squirm-heavy moment transpires when Osit asks the subject, head in hands, soon to find himself in police custody, if he would sign a release form. Necessary, to be sure, but the awkwardness is palpable.

Might we hear from anyone besides decoys, former law enforcement agents, and the like? What about the family members of those caught on camera? [Redacted name] was bursting with potential as the 18-year-old looked towards his senior year of high school when he found himself before Hansen; the resulting fallout saw him leaving school, putting college and career on hold, and sequestering himself to his bedroom, all of which his mother recalls as a weeping Hunter can be heard off-camera. When Osit reflects de Rond on why he’s making such a film, the ethnographer directs this back towards Osit as a question; as it turns out, Osit was the victim of abuse, stemming from an event not unlike those “Predator” tried to eliminate preemptively. When these men arrived at the decoy house, one of the first questions asked of each was to help them understand their own way, which caused them to travel down this path. Osit would appreciate an answer. Maybe this film will help.

Just as it seems this film might end up nothing more than an expose of the failings and overall fallacy of “Predator,” Chris Hansen himself takes his own seat before the camera at the 1:10 mark, as he does indeed look back upon the show’s legacy and how he continues his work to this day via his own “Predator” clone entitled “Takedown. “Though still every bit the Chris Hansen of twenty years prior, it’s clear he and Osit have different motivations in their respective journeys, though neither seems misguided, with Osit hoping to understand these men better while Hansen, reflecting back to the “Predator” inspiration that saw him investigating underage Cambodian sex workers, wants to help make lives better by enacting his own form of journalistic justice. 

However, by seemingly immortalizing these men thanks to the everlasting power of the internet, who does it help? Focusing on the tremendously skewed mentality of each man would be easy, but was the motivation of “To Catch a Predator” as wholesome as it seemed? Maybe it’s not black and white, but a slew of grey areas, and “Predators” succeeds in presenting something that takes the audience on a rollercoaster of emotion as an ultimately flawed news program from the aughts receives an unexpected documentary treatment. It may seem like bias runs rampant, but that couldn’t be further from the truth, as Osit tries to answer his questions while looking behind the scenes in a manner that could if nothing else, showcase the obvious spin of mass media. In looking back at “To Catch a Predator,” Osit takes a look at much, much more. [A-]

Check out the latest reviews from the 2025 Sundance Film Festival and The Playlist’s complete coverage from Park City here.

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