‘Primetime’ (2026) Review

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What would have happened if I wasn’t here?

Back in 1936, less than one hundred years ago, America held one of its last public hangings. Convicted of the rape and murder of a seventy-year-old woman, Rainey Bethea was hanged by the neck until dead in Owensboro, Kentucky. Witnessing this was over 20,000 people who all came out to watch the life fade from Bethea’s eyes. Due to what was considered “unprecedented nationwide attention” (among other factors, I’m sure) the United States began to quickly phase out the concept of public executions. 

This connection to Primetime is a link to our morbid societal fascination with death, justice, and especially, punishment. The concept of To Catch a Predator was simple enough as investigative reality TV, but it really does something to you when you experience an episode. We can easily say as viewers we don’t attach ourselves to depravity and destructive humiliation, but the numbers don’t lie. Similar to 20,000 people showing up to a hanging, To Catch a Predator was pulling in around seven million viewers per episode. 

Granted, it’s hard not to get pulled into the sensational drama of TCAP with its manipulative editing, rampant victimization, and extreme drive for justice. As viewers, we’re safe behind the glowing glass of anonymity, free to ridicule and deride what poor sucker Chris Hansen would intrude on in each episode. As a way to turn the camera back on ourselves, Lance Oppenheim changes the dynamic with Primetime and places us in a seat of culpability alongside Hansen, his team of pedo baiters, and local law enforcement.

The idea Oppenheim wants to infiltrate your mind with, even from Primetime’s opening minutes, is perversion. Hansen will “rehearse” with lines from the disturbing chat logs he’d eventually be reading back to his prey; the ones they had written to a supposed thirteen-year-old girl or boy. It becomes this sick mantra of Hansen’s, as this intrinsic link to his quest for dispelling evil by deeply integrating himself with it. It’s this unspoken code that drives the force of this story. But this term applies to more than just these desperate men seeking a young companion. 

The problem with popular TV is usually the on-ramp to expansion. Spin-offs, sequels, budgets, and star power can factor into scripted shows, but for something as unique as TCAP, the push for expansion came in some dangerous ways. Weightier victims, higher prestige, and increased stakes created this unstable environment of unprofessional enforcement that constructed a perversion of justice for any man desperate enough to walk into these traps. As expected, the scales of morality tipped once ratings became the main focus. And this destructive search for the “white whale” becomes this task of impossible expectations and self-inflation that creates this radicalized version of Chris Hansen. 

In that driver’s seat, Robert Pattinson is continuously outdoing himself. There’s an inhumanity to this man, but a vulnerable crack that still allows him to be this complicated and gravitating figure. His mannerisms, his voice, and his drive may all be dramatized for the tone of this movie, but they lend an unexpected peek into the psyche of a man who would suffer this conflict of television stardom and a righteous conquering of evil. It’s clear Pattinson’s credentials as a leading man and a character actor are undoubtedly increasing with this new performance. Also, I feel rightfully obligated to mention Skyler Gisondo and Merritt Wever as essential supporters along this ride. Both struggle with the conflicting nature of the show’s impact, but use it to their own unique ends. 

And with this harsh, dramatized tone, Oppenheim and collaborator David Bolen use the camera and lighting to truly enhance that effect. The blown-out lights and hazy filter create this strange visual accent that finds a marriage between classic daytime television and the dingy vibrance of a motel room. It, at once, both feels safe and off-putting as you settle into the depraved suburban underworld. Some may find it overstylized, but I’d argue Oppenheim and Bolen put it to great use throughout. 

And though it might not be the movie some people expected, Primetime is a searing indictment of “punishment as mainstream content” that really forces you to think about the ramifications of a show like this and the people participating, willing or not. We may not see what happens to these men after they walk out that door, but we know the humiliation that awaits them for the rest of their lives. Primetime isn’t trying to make us feel guilty for pedophilic behavior, but show us that there aren’t simply two sides to this issue. As we watch reality content that shames and destroys the lives of people, how can we not feel culpable, even in the face of evil? Because we crave it. 

Here, Hansen has a quote to the effect of: “There used to be whipping posts in the center of every town. Now, there’s a television in every home.” Humanity’s link to debasement hasn’t gone away; it just changed mediums. Something to consider next time you take pleasure in watching someone else’s punishment.