Predators
(USA, 96 min.)
Dir. David Osit
Programme: US Documentary Competition (World premiere)
“Maybe I haven’t gotten so far through this because I don’t want to feel bad for him,” T-Coy tells director David Osit in Predators. T-Coy is what’s called a decoy. She’s watching a video she made with YouTuber Skeeter Jean, who catches presumed sexual predators in staged sting operations. T-Coy, who is over 18, plays an underage girl who meets with men hoping to have sex with a minor. As Osit shadows Jean and T-Coy in their copycat take of the 1990s hit series To Catch a Predator, he observes one case who becomes suicidal when they catch him. When Osit asks T-Coy to watch the footage, it’s extremely uncomfortable. But audiences may share T-Coy’s discomfort. Predators is not an easy watch.
Osit inspires conflicted emotions as the documentary revisits To Catch a Predator’s strange success. One may feel ambivalent, uneasy, conflicted, and sometimes even bored. But the complicated nature of the investigation rejects the simplified instant gratification that made To Catch a Predator a hit.
Predators builds its case in three chapters. The first revisits the show itself. A social ethnographer watches old tapes of the series. He comments infrequently about what he sees while the show’s host, Chris Hansen, enters the room after the decoy reels in the predator. Hansen’s bit usually starts the conversation with “Let me understand…” Guys open up to him and confess their sins, not really sure who Hansen is: cop, a lawyer, or the kid’s dad. Clip after clip, Hansen tells the men they’re free to go. Remorseful yet chipper, the men are visibly shaken by their narrow escape—until they’re ambushed by cops and arrested in dramatic takedowns.
The ethnographer chimes in about what’s wrong with the approach, although one wishes that Osit trusted audiences to arrive at these conclusions themselves. The researcher’s monotonous delivery is Predators’ big misfire, as his obvious and didactic observations ironically invite passive viewing. The conceit risks repeating the mistakes of the series it queries.
The retrospective demonstrates how To Catch a Predator popularized reality-based television by combining voyeurism and sensationalism with a sense of justice centred on a moral absolute. The premise of the series leaves little room for debate, even if it’s televised entrapment. These men prey on minors and presumably should be removed from chat rooms and public spheres where they may cause harm.
As Predators unpacks the flaws with the show, one might struggle with the thought that it invites sympathy for monsters. Osit introduces the three decoys who played the minors on To Catch a Predator. Now older adults, they’re still processing the experience as if recovering from PTSD. The earlier acting gig proves especially difficult for Dan, who remains haunted by a case. Dan recalls an episode that found the worst outcome possible. After doing his job on the phone, he failed to secure a meet-up. However, investigators identified the caller as a district attorney and tracked him down at his home. Dan tells how the suspect shot himself upon the cops’ arrival.
This suicide ultimately proved the killshot for To Catch a Predator. Osit lays out the faulty legal issues that should have prevented a series from mixing the business of law enforcement with showbusiness. Moreover, the popularity of the show means that these men had no chance for fair trials. The court of public opinion hung them even if Hansen’s “gotcha!” journalism made it impossible for some attorneys to prosecute the cases. It’s fair material to consider in today’s era of cancel culture where people’s mistakes are aired in public without fair chance to respond. Quality journalism demands better.
Osit keeps circling back to Hansen’s question, “Let me understand.” He tries to comprehend Hansen’s lack of interest in the illness that inspires adults to desire children. Rehabilitation, therapy, and treatment aren’t part of the show. To Catch a Predator simply repeats its formula of surveillance and salaciousness, delivering weekly by preying into audiences’ sicko fears.
The director then makes a confession to T-Coy about why he puts her and others in the “gotcha” business in the hot seat. Predators awkwardly changes gears in its third act as Osit assumes an active presence. Now appearing on both sides of the camera, the stakes are personal. They also complicate the moral absolute on which such series hinge, as Osit wants the deeper questions that Hansen never asked.
He eventually gets an interview with the series host, who continues to mix law enforcement/entrapment with reality TV. Hansen’s interview may leave audiences dissatisfied, as he doesn’t seem at all remorseful or reflective of his past actions. But Osit’s approach makes up for it as his queries refuse to stay at surface level. It’s another uncomfortable watch, but perhaps this case demonstrates the power of silence as Hansen fails to mirror his own interviewees who spilled the beans, often with a cry for help.
Predators ultimately demonstrates the distinct line and moral imperative that distinguishes documentary from reality television. Osit’s film bides its time with a topic to understand both text and context. It considers all the factors entailed in a story. It’s a thorough immersion that seeks to entertain and enlighten audiences, rather than offer ephemeral 45-minute thrills. Predators grasps that visual storytelling has consequences whereas such reality shows don’t. If there’s ever a moment in Predators where one’s attention sags, try to understand why true crime hasn’t trained attention spans to consider the long game.