Writer/director Danny Boyle's 28 Years Later, cowritten by Alex Garland, is a folk-horror sequel to their pandemic set, 28 Days Later and 28 Weeks Later (the latter fashioned for the duo by Juan Carlos Fresnadillo and Rowan Jaffe, et al) about a Rage virus that instills hyper insanity in those unfortunate to catch it.
For this new chapter, we're given a U.K., island-based clan: Aaron Taylor-Johnson's guiding and encouraging Jamie, Jodie Comer's Isla, an ill woman who may be in the early throes of infection, and Alfie Williams' Spike, a youth who dares to test his mettle by hunting the infected with his dad, but ultimately flees with his mom to find her a cure.
The boy's perilous trek is underscored by odd, well-meaning and threatening forces, including Ralph Fiennes' Dr. Ian Kelson (a quirky but compassionate, skull collector, who Spike believes can salvage his mother); Edwin Ryding's Erik (a resourceful but petulant, Swedish, NATO soldier); Jack O' Connell's Jimmy Crystal (an epilogue interloper, who may be friend or foe); and Chi Lewis-Parry's Samson (an alpha monster of the infected's reigning sect).
The fable may be misinterpreted as a warning against risk taking. However, despite its indubitable depictions of recklessness, we receive a lesson-laden, coming-of-age parable, albeit one marked by guilt, sorrow and gore.
The perpetrators of that gore are depicted as the marauding (unclothed) majority, who for the most part behave as they did in the previous movies: i.e. like fast-moving zombies. Some argue that the saga's infected are not zombies at all, but something more akin to George A. Romero's "crazies" (those birthed in the 1973, cult classic), but I would argue that Boyle's monsters (and the crazies) are zombies nonetheless, though cut from a different cloth. It's like comparing Romero's Martin Mathias to Dracula or Michael Morbius. Each rises from a different casket, but a vampire is a vampire, no matter the spin.
Boyle's energized direction works well for these mindless maniacs, creating scenes that will get the heart racing and the stomach turning, tapping the harrowing, human-hunting sequence of Planet of the Apes 1968, the brutality of the Predator franchise and the apocalyptic terror of Come and See, graced by an earthy, juxtaposing soundtrack from Young Fathers, reminiscent of Popol Vuh's from Nosferatu 1979.
Taylor-Johnson, in particular, adds believable heroism through his patriarchal role (with all the understandable flaws attached). Fiennes is amazing as the outsider doctor, but then he's always top-notch (even when tossed into limpy sagas like Harry Potter), with Williams, Comer and Ryding being just as deft, enough to elevate the absorbing concept to new, emotional heights.
Word has it that 28 Years Later: The Bone Temple is already in the can (directed by Nia DaCosta of Candyman 2021 and The Marvels), and another movie beyond that is on the horizon, with a hinted return of Cillian Murphy's Jim, hero of the initial installment. (Murphy, by the way, acts as 28 Years Later's executive producer.)
I want more of this saga, and so, while Boyle is at it, he should consider transferring the mythos to the small-screen, where audiences can enjoy the character-driven mayhem for longer, fulfilling durations.
