sibling bonds & survival: reflections on prey (2022) for native american heritage month
November is National Native American Heritage Month in the US, and in its honor, I will be sharing some thoughts about the film Prey. Prey is a prequel to the Predator franchise, and much of the cast are Native actors. Despite my almost complete disconnection from pop culture, this post has strangely apt timing: the newest installment of the franchise was just released—Predator: Badlands. Is it good? Who knows! But it looks like it could be fun.
The original film gets right to the action. But Prey takes a bit more time introducing us to the characters, which means there are some therapy-related themes that came up that may not be quite as fleshed out in its sister films. In this post I’ll be processing how it handles sibling relationships, which are among the relationships I find most interesting.
The connection between siblings receives less attention than romantic relationships or parent-child relationships, but for those who have siblings, they are likely the longest relationship you’ll ever have. That observation feels obvious to me when I say it, but I remember the first time someone pointed it out to me. It kind of blew my mind. Sibling relationships last roughly from birth until death for many people, so yeah, they can be pretty impactful. I’m excited to talk about what this connection looks like for the characters in Prey.
While Prey is relatively straightforward and predictable, I’ll be discussing parts of the narrative that give away key plot points, just a heads up. Also, keep in mind that this film is about the violence of the predator-prey relationship, so I will allude to or describe the killing of animals and humans. Take care if this type of violence is upsetting. But for those of you who are not familiar with these films—the predators are strictly of the action-film variety. No sexual violence.
a new lens for the predator franchise
Prey follows a familiar storyline for the franchise: a predator from another world arrives on earth and begins killing anything that resembles a predator/hunter/adversary. The predator appears unkillable, but the hero uses their own cunning to defeat it.
setting the scene
In this installment, the year is 1719. We’re in the Great Plains, in a Comanche village. Naru is a young Comanche woman who yearns to complete a Kühtammia, a rite of passage wherein a hunter must kill what hunts them.
Little does Naru know that her Kühtammia will be the most epic of them all. She must use all of her training as a healer and her keen observation skills to defeat the predator she dubs Mupitsi, a Comanche monster of legend.
introducing naru & taabe: siblings on the hunt
Prey is unusually strong in character development compared to other similar films, and the most important relationship is that between Naru and her older brother, Taabe. (Or perhaps the second most important relationship, depending on how you feel about the connection between Naru and her dog.) Taabe has long-since achieved his Kühtammia and is a well-respected hunter in their village.
Naru is preparing for her Kühtammia, so she’ll be ready when the time comes.
Naru and Taabe’s dynamic is a familiar one. There is love, connection, and friendship. There is good-natured ribbing, like when Taabe says Naru should have listened to his story, and she responds, “Didn’t think we had time for a nap.” And there is also the mixed-messaging of ambivalence: does Taabe believe in Naru or does he not?
rivalry, respect, & recognition
One afternoon while Naru gathers medicinal plants, the young hunters from her village mobilize to hunt a mountain lion who has injured one of their group. Naru follows, and several of the young men mock her for trying to join them, while Taabe says she should stay because of her skills in tracking and healing. Privately, Taabe offers Naru encouragement because he knows she sees an opportunity for her Kühtammia.
Throughout the course of this hunt for the lion, there’s indecisive support from Taabe. He wants her skills to be recognized, and he makes it clear to the rest of the group that she is to be respected. Yet he wavers in his feelings about her Kühtammia. He tries to force her to stay with the group returning to camp with the injured hunter. But when she circles back to be with Taabe’s part of the group that hunts the lion, he insists on using her plan for the kill. He even places Naru in position to do the killing. “It’s time, Naru. Your Kühtammia,” he says.
In the audience, we all know Naru’s Kühtammia will be far more dramatic, so this hunt is not her time. But it’s a tough blow when the hunt is over and it is Taabe–not Naru–who returns to the village carrying the head of the lion. Not only has Taabe further elevated his rank among the hunters, he is hailed as War Chief. In some ways it feels like his achievement was at the expense of his sister.
what makes sibling relationships so complex
In the wake of his change in the village hierarchy, we start to wonder what Taabe’s about. Did he kill the lion because it was a threat to his sister and the rest of the tribe? Or did he kill the lion out of his own sense of pride as a hunter? Where is the line between being protective of a beloved sibling and seeing a sibling as a rival?
holding two truths at once
In my last post discussing Everything Everywhere All At Once, I talked about the skill of learning to hold two things to be true. This theme arrives again here in Prey. It makes me wonder whether people who are close with their siblings are unusually well-acquainted with the skill of holding conflicting truths.
How many people do you know who see their sibling as their closest confidant, yet somehow also their nemesis? I don’t think I could even begin to count the number. It feels clear to me that this dynamic holds for Taabe and Naru. It is absolutely true that Taabe is protective of the sister he loves. But he also carries a deep desire to outdo her.
the paradox of closeness
As we approach the climax of the film, Naru and Taabe find themselves a team on the hunt again, this time for Mupitsi, the predator. It is here that we learn Taabe’s secret: he knows it is thanks to his sister that he was able to kill the mountain lion that brought him so much glory. “You wanna know how I killed that lion? Your plan,” he tells Naru. “You weakened it. You had it, Naru. You can see what I miss. You always have.”
Ultimately, Naru & Taabe need each other in order to kill the predator who is hunting them.
Taabe had an easy willingness, insistence even, that the other hunters see Naru for what she is: an equal, formidable in her skills. But he had trouble admitting it to himself until he realized their lives depended on her.
the embarrassment of being seen
I wonder if Taabe would be able to explain why he was unwilling to give Naru the satisfaction of acknowledging that some of her strengths outpaced his. It’s easy to say because of that element of embarrassment. But I’m still sitting with the curiosity of why the embarrassment in the first place?
Something about having someone else be privy to all the chapters of our story as they unfold–while also living similar chapters of their own, at roughly the same time or at a short delay–makes for especially complex relationships. We’re incomparably vulnerable to judgment by our siblings, but these parallel personal stories also often lead to a depth of connection we cannot find in other relationships. A paradox of closeness, I suppose.
I’m reminded of a conversation I had with one of my nephews recently when I was asking my dad for advice. Nothing life-threatening, thankfully, but my nephew wondered why I would ask my dad instead of his dad–my brother. My response was that sometimes it’s less embarrassing to ask a parent for advice than it is a sibling. With a couple of siblings of his own, my nephew immediately understood. If you have siblings, maybe you get it, too.
other memorable sibling relationships
I love when a sibling relationship is well-developed on screen, and they always stand out in my memory. I won’t bore you with the full list that comes to mind, so here’s an abridged version:
Nick and Margo in Gone Girl
Dinah and Tracy in The Philadelphia Story
Alexis and David in Schitt’s Creek
T’Challa and Shuri in Black Panther
Lemon and Tangerine in Bullet Train
Tahani and Kamilah in The Good Place
My favorite instances of a grown-ass human yearning to talk to their grown-ass sibling are in the song “I’m the Man to Be” by EL VY and in the film Eagle vs. Shark. For some real-life, real-time sibling sweetness, one of my favorite podcasts is Tooth & Claw, which is not about siblings. It is about animal attacks (so still on topic for today, funnily enough). But it is hosted by some real-life siblings and their friend. Their dynamic warms the heart. And just in case you want some dirt on me and my siblings: my brother and I text about sneakers and macaroni and cheese. My sister and I text about life. And macaroni and cheese.
closing thoughts
I’d be remiss not to give a nod to those whose sibling relationships are hard and full of heartache, whether from unresolved hurts, disconnection, distance, or death. (In one of my posts about the film Vengeance, I discuss the experience of grieving the death of a sibling.) And another nod to those who are only children–pros and cons abound for those in this camp. We’ve all got our perks and our shit, no matter how many siblings we have.
Thanks for reading, talk to you soon.
Thank you for reading! I’m Trina, and I’m a therapist in Texas. I wrote this post myself using my own words and ideas. I used AI to help me optimize titles, headings, keywords, and meta descriptions for SEO purposes. AI also gave me some tips on how to share this post on social media. I will always let you know if/when/how I use AI in my blog posts.
If you’re in Texas and looking for a therapist, give me a shout. I’d love to learn more about you and your story.
