Film Reviews

September 25, 2026

"Primetime" provides a bleak yet provocative snapshot of a distinct time in American culture, when appointment television was waning andmdash;perhaps as a responsemdash;mainstream shock reality TV was at its apex. It's an exposé of sorts, especially for those of us who never tuned into "To Catch a Predator," the proudly lurid segment that was part of NBC's long-running investigative show, "Dateline." One of the many curious things about the film—directed by Lance Oppenheim, a documentarian making his narrative debut, and written by Ajon Singh and Luke Dittrich—is that it consistently comes across as fictional and as an outlet for the filmmakers to make a social commentary about the dangers of greed, egotism, and losing your moral center. The fact that it's based on real people and events, which of course have been embellished for dramatic purposes, makes it all the more intriguing, not to mention sad and disturbing.

At its core, "Primetime" is about obsessions, which every human possesses to some degree or another, not least the film's characters. Whether it's money, power, sex, fame, a coveted public image, or keeping our skeletons in the closet, obsessions drive us, but they can also control us, and oftentimes we're unaware of just how far they seep into our behaviors and thoughts, causing us to behave in reprehensible and inexplicable ways.

But "Primetime" would be boring if it was merely an indictment of human fixations, and fortunately, it's more complicated than that. It would rather have us observe, learn from, and consider the ramifications of letting our compulsions cloud our judgement and instincts, and it suggests this is a flaw we're all susceptible to. On this level, the movie is a thought-provoking parable; on another, it's a fascinating and salacious pop-culture history lesson.

The film opens in 2006, two years after the calm and measured journalist Chris Hansen (Robert Pattinson) and his fiery producer Andie Bender (Merritt Wever) began making "To Catch a Predator," a series that centers on the entrapment of sexual predators, namely pedophiles, before they have a chance to defile their victims. The child exploiters, all men (there were female offenders but none of them ever took the bait), are lured to rented suburban houses in various cities across the country, believing these residences to be the homes of the minors with whom they've been in contact over phone and online chat rooms (unbeknownst to them, these minors are actually adult actors). The television crew has rigged the property with hidden cameras to capture the would-be abusers, who willingly enter the property to make their move. When the jig is up, a poker-faced and unruffled Hansen appears from behind a closed door and essentially asks the predator, "Well, what have got to say for yourself?" After that, the police storm in and make an arrest.

Cut. Print. Repeat.

You're probably thinking this is a problematic setup for many reasons, including the deception, ethics, and sensationalizing of a serious subject, but it's all these aspects that drew Oppenheim and Pattinson, who also produced, to the material. Despite its dubious ways, 20 years ago, "To Catch a Predator" resonated with television audiences. Even the head of NBC, Jeff Zucker, who plays himself in the film, says to Hansen and Bender, "I don’t really understand your show. I don’t like it, I don’t believe in it. But America loves it." America loves it so much, in fact, that Zucker is willing to put "Dateline" and, by extension, "How to Catch a Predator," up against ABC's juggernaut at the time, "Lost."

For Hansen, whom Pattinson, perhaps unfairly, portrays as a soulless, self-indulgent man who's more concerned with TV ratings and public persona than being faithful to his wife (Anna Faris) and their two young sons, the idea of "Predator" airing during (and potentially dominating) the coveted 9 p.m. time slot is music to his ears. It's also gratifying news to Bender because it gives her options and leverage over competing offers, although the screenplay is realistic enough to know that she still has an uphill battle by virtue of being a woman, and it's not lost on her that she will still need to go the extra mile to make sure her voice is heard.

If Hansen and Bender represent the cynical, dog-eat-dog underbelly and bureaucratic side of investigative TV, it's the sprouting, boy-faced actor Dan Plum (Skyler Gisondo, very effective) who shows there are aspects of the industry that can still contain innocence, authenticity, and morals. Dan is our main conduit into this dark and twisted world. He's young, admittedly naïve, and excited by the simple things such as hotel rooms with two beds. He auditions for "To Kill a Predator" but has no idea what he's in for, and when the trepidatious Dan, who's all of 23, is asked to raise his voice and play 13, he's as caught off-guard as we are. Soon, though, he finds his footing, and Hansen even gives him the nickname "Decoy Dan" because of his ability to entice perpetrators so convincingly. But, one of the messages of this film is that the people in this business are prone to taking their work home with them, and when Dan starts drinking too much of the Kool-Aid, it culminates in the film's most heartbreaking sequence.

"Primetime" isn't exactly an entertaining film. It's more of a useful one, because it spurs us to think critically about decisions being made at the highest levels of corporate America, which can trickle down and sometimes ruin or scar those literally selling themselves for a product, not to mention the product's unsuspecting targets. We suppose that what Hansen and his team are doing is good and honorable on paper, but Oppenheim's film doesn't pretend those involved don't also pay a pricemdash;mentally, emotionally, even physically.

Of course, the questions, morals, and ramifications surrounding "Primetime" could easily be applied to multiple domains, not just TV, but Oppenheim is wise to keep it focused. He doesn't venture to make an allegory that goes beyond the scope of this particular time and space, and so "Primetime," as unsettling as it becomes, manages to feel personal and human despite the business it deconstructs having an almost mythical quality because the end result is "on tv."

What keeps "Primetime" grounded and moving is that Oppenheim and editor Daneil Garber give each of the main characters—Chris, Andie, and Dan—more or less equal screen time yet different moral conundrums with which we can identify, and none of these are clear-cut. A story like this is meant for us to ask, "What would I do in that situation?", and we're asking that question a lot in "Primetime," and from different perspectives. David Bolen's blurry, blown out cinematography places all its players in a pressure cooker that causes us to feel isolated, cold, and on edge. These aren't good feelings, but they are resonating ones.

What eventually transpires and comes of "How to Catch a Predator" I'll leave for you to discover. What can I say is the movie gets melodramatic to the point where you'd think the filmmakers were simply tossing in twists and turns for sensational purposes, but no, they were just working in the actual hard truths around this true story, truths that are grotesque and bizarre but arguably compelling.