A man from Long Beach, California, arrives for a planned sexual encounter with someone he believes is a 13-year-old girl, only to find himself confronted by journalist Chris Hansen. This moment serves as the chilling opening for Primetime, a film directed by Lance Oppenheim. Released in the US this week and set to debut in the UK on 30 October, the film explores the rise of the Dateline NBC series To Catch a Predator, which transformed sting operations into a cultural phenomenon. Raising a host of ethical questions about justice, voyeurism and society’s willingness to dehumanise certain offenders for profit and entertainment, it explores how a network news show turned sting operations into must-see television.
Robert Pattinson stars as a version of the swaggering television host. The film highlights a pivotal societal shift during the mid-2000s, captured by a line spoken by the character: “There used to be a pillory in every village. Now, there’s a television in every living room.” This statement underscores the show’s role during the pre-streaming ratings wars, where it famously went head-to-head with ABC’s Lost. Whose recent movies include The Batman, The Drama and The Odyssey, the swaggering Hansen is played by Robert Pattinson.
The formula for To Catch a Predator was simple but potent. Decoy actors posing as teenagers lured suspected predators to sting houses, where Hansen would confront them on camera while police waited outside to make arrests. By the 2006-07 season, the show attracted approximately 7 million viewers per episode, cementing Hansen’s status as a household name synonymous with his signature catchphrase, “Have a seat.” He is caught, and it is the end of his life as he knew it. Hansen asks what his fate should be. “The electric chair?” he asks. The formula proved hugely successful.
David Osit, who directed the 2025 documentary Predators, notes the complex appeal of the original show. He describes it as sordid, creepy, and yet amusing, reflecting an intersection of basic human instinct and deep-seated societal discomfort. Osit observes that the marketing for the new film leans into this by recycling old clips of the original broadcasts.
However, the series faced a catastrophic turning point in 2006. Bill Conradt, an assistant district attorney in Rockwall County, Texas, was targeted after allegedly contacting a decoy posing as a 13-year-old boy. Though Conradt changed his mind and failed to show up at the sting house, the team proceeded with the police operation at his residence. This incident led to a lawsuit, an out-of-court settlement, and significant media scrutiny from outlets like ABC’s 20/20 and Esquire.
Long before Dateline NBC gained fame, law enforcement agencies were experimenting with online sting operations. In Kentucky, former attorney general Greg Stumbo supervised state-led efforts, partnering with local law enforcement like Bowling Green sheriff Jerry “Peanuts” Gaines. These stings revealed that perpetrators were often ordinary professionals, such as teachers and firefighters, rather than stereotypical criminals. Stumbo remains adamant that the sting tactics were not entrapment, asserting that his team’s objective was strictly law enforcement, not television spectacle.
The organization Perverted Justice, founded by Xavier Von Erck, acted as the engine behind Dateline NBC’s investigations. Von Erck claims that without his group’s volunteer efforts to screen chat logs and coordinate, the show would not have been possible. He maintains that the evidence his team supplied held up in court, with convictions never being overturned upon appeal. The programme targeted men suspected of soliciting sex with minors in online chat rooms. Volunteers from the citizen watchdog group Perverted Justice posed as underage children, engaging adults in conversations and then arranging meetings at fake homes.
Current tensions remain high regarding the portrayal of these events. Von Erck has been highly critical of Oppenheim’s film, accusing the filmmakers of fabricating scenes, locations, and dialogue that never occurred. He characterizes the depiction of himself as maliciously inaccurate. Similarly, the real Chris Hansen has publicly slammed the movie as an “insult” and an act of “identity theft,” despite not having watched the finished product. But the real Hansen, 67, has branded the movie an “insult” and “identity theft” without having seen it.
In a recent interview with USA Today, Hansen criticized the filmmakers for attempting to exploit the professional brand he has cultivated over 45 years. While some, such as Osit, interpret Hansen’s reaction as a shrewd move to stay relevant, others point to the many individuals who have expressed genuine gratitude for Hansen’s investigative work over the years. As debates surrounding the ethics of the original series continue, Primetime forces a renewed look at the voyeuristic nature of true-crime entertainment.
