Royce (Adrien Brody), an ex-US special forces soldier-turned mercenary regains consciousness while hurtling toward a thick blanket of trees below.  He has no idea where he is or why.  Moments after his parachute springs open he crashes into a dense tropical forest.  Gathering himself he discovers a half dozen others that have arrived just as he has. Among them: a Russian Spetsnaz commando (Oleg Taktarov), a Sierra Leonean death squad soldier (Mahershalalhashbaz Ali), a convicted Federal prisoner (Walton Goggins), a Yakuza assassin (Louis Ozawa Changchien), a Mexican drug cartel enforcer (Danny Trejo) and an Israeli black ops sniper (Alice Braga).

And then there is the scrawny weaponless clean-cut medical doctor (Topher Grace) who feels curiously out of place among the human predators and various agents of death.  But as you might guess, he’s not exactly as he seems.

This violent group of bewildered earthlings apprehensively chooses to stick together and sets off in search of a way off of what they soon learn is an alien planet designated as a game preserve for a technologically advanced race of giant warrior aliens.  Apparently they pluck the most dangerous and skilled killers from various planets and use them as game to improve their own hunting skills.

“Predators” wisely ignores the events of “Predator 2″ (1990), “Alien vs. Predator” (2004) and “Aliens vs. Predator: Requiem” (2007), all of which I’m still convinced don’t exist, and plays as a direct sequel to McTiernan’s original. Schwarzenegger and his showdown with the alien predator in that film is even mentioned by Braga’s character as the group tries to make sense of the precarious situation they’ve found themselves in.  And the narrative follows roughly the same format to mostly great effect.

But there are some key differences that give the edge to the original.  The decisive factor, other than the holy trinity of Schwarzenegger, Carl Weathers and Jesse Ventura, that makes McTiernan’s film so good is an element that so many modern action films lack — silence.  ”Predator” mastered the atmospheric, supreme intensity of stillness, the calm before the storm.  ”Predators” is by no means mindless, non-stop action, but it does seem a little eager to rush through plot points and necessary lulls so it can get on to the next set piece.

The cast, contrary to popular anticipation, is quite good.  Although his melodramatic, all-knowing, Hemingway-quoting persona gets tiresome, Brody puts his Oscar-winning chops to unexpectedly good use as the grim, humorless leader. Walton Goggins is magnetic and funny per usual and Topher Grace’s sarcastic comedy fits into the deadly alien jungle surprisingly well.  A plump, deranged Laurence Fishburne is the only real weak link.

It’s not perfect, but in a world of remakes and mind-melding idiocy, “Predators” manages to come away a competent, worthy entry into the series.

Some brief background before delving into this infamous scene: Dren is the creation of Elsa (Sarah Polley) and Clive (Mr. Brody), who are scientific partners as well as lovers. An experiment in mixing human and animal DNA to create a kind of amphibious, avian hybrid, Dren also has the ability to rapidly age; as a result, she has all of the features of a fully developed female midway through the film. Needless to say, despite (or perhaps, because of) her strange, alien characteristics, which include a bald head, a tail, and wings, she is exotically beautiful. Apparently in her late-teenage stage, Dren has been crushing on Clive, drawing and hiding pictures of him, etc. Likewise, Clive has begun to show kindness and a hint of playful, innocent flirtatiousness towards Dren, especially after Elsa’s maternal nature is gradually replaced by calculating, cold cruelty.

This pre-existing sexual tension between Clive and the blossoming Dren, as it culminates with Elsa’s increasing heartlessness, peaks when Dren and Clive are alone in a barn. The seduction and sex which follows is in no way violent or cheaply graphic. Aside from the obvious fact that Clive is betraying Elsa, his lovemaking with Dren is actually quite innocent. Although Clive is clearly reluctant, he also feels the need, perhaps out of guilt, to show Dren, who has a tragically short lifespan, the pleasures of a sexual experience. A more apparent interpretation which proves that this sexual encounter is more than a grade B movie spectacle is that it unearths deep, intricate aspects of Clive’s character. Throughout the film, it is suggested that Clive is the submissive and Elsa the dominant in their relationship, a dynamic which may hint that although he is an accomplished scientist, Clive still worries that he is nothing more than an overgrown nerd. Thus, his impulsive, impassioned sex with Dren makes him feel empowered and sexy, (perhaps for the first time in his life) while also being an ideal and intimate scientific discovery.

It is understandably awkward watching any sex scene in a movie theater. But when the audience collectively laughed, groaned, and shouted “That’s so fucked up, man!” during this scene — a scene which reveals so much about the complexities of human desire — my theater-going experience was essentially ruined. Their reactions made me more uncomfortable than the sex itself. As previously stated, the scene was not kinky at all; yet, in a matter of minutes, I felt very low, even ashamed, like I was sitting in an adult theater watching some x-rated detritus of a film. This furor went on for so long, even after the scene was over, that I seriously considered walking out and waiting for the DVD release. I feared this audience uproar had tainted the film for me; that they had stripped “Splice” of its artistic, at times inspired, intentions, and I would always associate the film with the petty, tactless reactions of these spectators.

This unpleasant incident was uncannily similar to what happened when I saw Ang Lee’s “Brokeback Mountain.” It is of consequence to mention that I saw this film in a much smaller theater in a distinctly liberal town in upstate New York. The viewing was going well, even through the jarringly rough sex scene between Mr. Ledger and Mr. Glyenhaall in the first half of the film. Oddly enough, the moment which provoked the unseemly audience reaction involved no gay sex. Rather, it was when Ennis (Mr. Ledger) and Jack (Mr. Glyenhaall) are reunited after years apart and share a spontaneous, fervent kiss, which Ennis’ wife, Alma (Michelle Williams), espies through her kitchen window. Even in a theater filled with what I would venture to call hippies, this agonizing moment of realization, so poignantly expressed through the horrified shock on Ms. Williams’ face, was littered with chuckles, obscenities, and exclamations like, “BUSTED!!” As during “Splice,” I was both disgusted and upset by these crude responses, perhaps even more so because of the latent homophobia it revealed in a so-called “progressive” audience. Yes, both the kiss and its subsequent exposure to Alma’s unassuming eyes was unexpected, but it would have been a relief to hear gasps of shock and surprise rather than hoots and giggles. It reduced an emotional turning point in the film into a shallow and primitive “gotchya!” moment.

After much debate over my experience with the rude and rowdy audience during “Splice,” I decided it was not fair to judge them. When we are unsure how to react to certain situations, such as scenes in a film, our discomfort may indicate that some aspect of the film evoked something in us we’re afraid or embarrassed to confront or acknowledge. I am in no way suggesting that the people who snickered during “Brokeback Mountain” are still in the closet; nor do I believe that the boorish crowd in “Splice” had a secret fantasy to make love with a humanoid, though beautiful, clone (although the males who were hollering were perhaps trying to conceal the fact that they were pretty aroused themselves). What I do believe is that when moments in film, or any artistic medium, instill discomfort within the viewer, that it says something about the quality, intellect, and imaginative power of the work of art.

It is not news that films that evoke a strong emotional reaction from the audience are either catastrophically offensive or artistically provocative. I think that “Splice,” for its science-fiction- turned-reality premise, along with “Brokeback Mountain’s” re-definition of the cinematic love story, definitely fall into the latter category. So, theatergoers, I encourage you to react. Let it out–your hollers, guffaws, everything. It will give me something to rant about. More importantly, it will let me know whether the film is breathtakingly bad, ingeniously inspired, or striving to uncover some suppressed aspect of ourselves by stimulating emotions we have yet to feel.

Shock Till You Drop has the scoop that Derek Mears, the fright-instilling actor who assumed the role of Jason Voorhees in this year’s “Friday the 13th” is confirmed to appear in the film.  There is no word yet on what character he’ll play, although given his past (“The Hills Have Eyes 2,” “Masters of Horror”), our best guess is one of the predators.

Shooting is already underway in Texas.

Mears will join an eclectic team that runs virtually the entire acting gamut including Adrien Brody, Topher Grace, Danny Trejo, Walton Goggins and Alice Braga.

Nimrod Antal is on board to direct.