A plate of freshly-baked cookies sits on a table, a pitcher of sweet tea resting peacefully beside it. A young boy — or girl, or whatever suits your fancy — lets you in with a smile, asking, “Did you bring any of that stuff we talked about?”
You see how this looks, right?
Here lies “To Catch a Predator” (2004–2007), once the evening entertainment of choice for seven million Americans, now immortalized by documentarian Lance Oppenheim in “Primetime” (2026), a boisterous and engrossing foray into narrative filmmaking. Aptly, the idea began as a joke of its own: Oppenheim’s wife bought him a personalized $40 Cameo video from the real Chris Hansen, which inspired him to make the film.
Though he proclaims himself a lifelong fan of Hansen’s, Oppenheim’s entry is, above all else, a study of why Americans were — and in a more meta sense, still are — so captivated by the humiliation of our most shameful citizens.
Perhaps part of the answer is Chris Hansen (here a thrillingly spasmodic Robert Pattinson) — or at least that’s what rookie screenwriter Ajon Singh’s version of Dateline NBC’s premiere pervert hunter would think. One only has to see Hansen’s near-orgasmic expression at the end of the film’s cold open, after a “decoy” (in “Predator” parlance, played here by Grammy winner Phoebe Bridgers, who proves very capable in her first acting role) snares an ex-Marine (Tony Revolori), to understand that nothing matters more to him than bringing this scum to justice by his own hand.
But once the day’s catch has been tackled by cops — one of whom is wearing a Ghillie suit, one of many over-the-top antics pulled from the real show — Hansen’s personal pleasure has given way to professional pride, as he flashes a shrug and two big thumbs up at his overjoyed (and fictional) showrunner, Andie Bender (Merritt Wever). If the doubleheader of critical praise Pattinson earned for his work in “The Drama” (2026) and “The Odyssey” (2026) isn’t enough to nail Pattinson a first Oscar nomination this year, this scene alone surely will be.
It’s lightning in a bottle, and Hansen will stop at nothing to reach what he deems perfection. Though his belabored obsession with getting the perfect “when we come back” voiceover earns him a chiding from two apathetic audio engineers — “guy thinks he’s f*cking Mike Wallace” — his attention to detail ends up getting Hansen exactly where he wants to be: the coveted 9 p.m. Wednesday night slot, right up against “Lost” (2004–2010).
Or maybe it’s less the details and more the viewership. As then-NBC head Jeff Zucker (cameoing as himself since “Jacob Elordi wasn’t available”) explains: “I don’t really understand your show. I don’t like it, I don’t believe in it. But America loves it.”
So the budget gets even bigger, and the stakes even higher. More decoys are needed; enter the baby-faced Dan Plum (Skyler Gisondo), who thinks this is the gig that will finally land him a SAG card. Soon, a frothy surprise from a man known only by his online moniker “Crazyfrog73” (a shocking return to the screen for the “Stuart Little” child star Jonathan Lipnicki) will leave Plum slightly traumatized and the rest of the crew elated. It’s the stuff of legends in this business, and thus “Decoy Dan” is born.
Staring down a grown man’s phallus means earning your stripes in this business. This is just one of many indications that it takes a special breed of person to hack it on the “Predator” crew.
Whether it’s the decoys trying to make their names, Bender trying to hold things together — and weighing an attractive offer to showrun for “What Would You Do?” — or keyboard warrior Matthew Maher (Xavier Von Erck), everyone has skin in the game (no pun intended). But there is a similar addiction in making the program and watching it, and the search for a “whale,” not just an average internet creep but a high-ranking pedophile who will bring in the numbers to beat “Lost,” is not yet over.
Singh’s script works as a character study of the maniacal Hansen, who is willing to sacrifice his marriage to Mary (Anna Faris) in his pursuit of success, at least until the National Enquirer threatens to tarnish his image by exposing it. But it’s also a broader examination of the post-9/11 zeitgeist. Oppenheim and cinematographer David Bolen clearly share this fascination, particularly with how it bears on the ethics of a hidden camera show in a pre-Snowden world less wary of surveillance. The longtime collaborators use a delightful range of cameras, from early-2000s mini DV to colonoscopy equipment, to capture the grainy intrusiveness that made “Predator” a hit.
The film also fits neatly alongside Oppenheim’s upcoming co-directing work with Nathan Fielder on the A24 documentary “You Can See Everything” (2026), where the two lived with infamous Theranos founder Elizabeth Holmes in the days before she began an 11-year prison sentence. Hansen’s show may be cancelled, but there will always be someone out there willing to risk it all to make their name in this country.
Some viewers may find issue in the film’s failure to fully implicate “Predator,” or in Hansen himself as exploitative and unethical, but the authenticity within Oppenheim’s absurd projection should be decisive enough. Those familiar with the story behind the program’s dramatic cancellation may be less surprised by the film’s climax. Its close ties to real events, in the final act and throughout, raise moral questions as audiences begin to see that while catching predators is never a bad thing, turning it into entertainment may be.
