TRAILER: Killers play game of cat and mouse

Based loosely on a 1994 script by Robert Rodriguez, penned before he shot to fame with Desperado and From Dusk Till Dawn, Predators reinvents the dreadlocked alien warriors for a new generation.

Oscar-winner Adrien Brody steps into the boots of Arnold Schwarzenegger as the gun-toting hero of the blood-spattered hour.

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It’s a curious choice of project for such a talented performer: there is no emotional component to the role and he delivers the leaden dialogue in a monotonous growl.

Director Nimrod Antal seems almost as lost as his characters, concealing the titular aliens for as long as possible before the slaying begins in earnest.

Predators opens with an unconscious man in freefall, approaching terminal velocity before a parachute automatically deploys and cushions his descent.

Tenacious mercenary Royce (Brody) wakes in the sweltering heat of a jungle, where he stumbles upon other people in a similar disoriented state: drug cartel enforcer Cuchillo (Trejo), Russian Special Forces soldier Nikolai (Taktarov), Israeli Defence Force sniper Isabelle (Braga), high-profile serial killer Walter Stans (Goggins), African warlord Mombasa (Ali), Yakuzo warrior Hanzo (Changchien) and mysterious doctor Edwin (Grace).

Reconnaissance reveals that the cold-blooded killers are stranded on an alien world with limited ammunition.

“This planet is a game reserve... and we’re the game,” surmises Royce, handily plugging the first of many gaps in the ramshackle plot.

The misfits are systematically hunted by a new breed of Predator, which is more cunning than before.

A recluse called Noland (Fishburne), who has survived the hostile environment, may offer some protection.

“I’m the one that got away,” he boasts, leading the new arrivals to his camp where he reveals the grisly fate that awaits them.

As she cradles her rifle, Isabelle realises why she and Royce were hand-picked for the hunt.

“It’s because we’re predators like them. We’re the monsters in our own world.”

Predators is clearly set after the 1987 film but, apart from a few verbal clues, it’s hard to pinpoint exactly where this chapter slots into the existing chronology.

Brody imposes himself physically on the film, losing his shirt to flex muscles in the climactic showdown, but like his co-stars, he sweats and snarls profusely in a thankless two-dimensional role.

Braga is a feisty foil while Grace provides fleeting comic relief as a medic who is clearly hiding something from his brothers in arms.

Action sequences fail to get the blood pumping, unfolding largely in the heat and the dark of an alien night.

Diector Antal is careful to leave open the possibility of sequels, or indeed a prequel, but only the most devoted fans will flock to this half-baked adventure and very few of them will leave the cinema satisfied.