Almost two decades have passed since the original 28 Days Later redefined the zombie genre (or, more accurately, the “infected” genre, a distinction its creators insist upon). The possibility of returning to this desolate, terrifying world felt wide open. Now, with Danny Boyle and Alex Garland — the creative minds behind the 2002 original — reuniting, we finally have 28 Years Later. The result is a best-case scenario, a sequel that critics are hailing as not only a stellar return but potentially Boyle’s best film in years, surpassing even the highly-regarded T2 Trainspotting.
Released to significant critical acclaim (boasting a 94% on Rotten Tomatoes, with reviewers calling it “terrifying,” “electrifying,” and “the best post-apocalyptic horror-thriller”), 28 Years Later manages to be both intensely frightening and surprisingly profound. While undeniably possessing an “Extremely Goofy” streak, it contains multitudes, blending pulse-pounding genre thrills with deeply resonant emotional and thematic explorations.
A Return to the Rage: Picking Up the Story
The franchise began with the devastating outbreak of the highly contagious Rage Virus in the UK, triggered by animal rights activists freeing infected chimpanzees from a lab. Unlike the supernatural reanimated dead, the infected are living humans afflicted by this virus, driven to extreme aggression but still requiring sustenance – they are sick, not undead. The original film followed bicycle courier Jim navigating a deserted London, eventually finding fellow survivors like Selena and Hannah, and confronting the dangers of both the infected and desperate human factions, culminating in a hopeful but uncertain survival in the countryside as the infected began starving.
The 2007 sequel, 28 Weeks Later, directed by Juan Carlos Fresnadillo, jumped ahead six months, depicting a repopulation attempt in a secured London zone that goes horribly wrong when an asymptomatic carrier triggers a devastating second outbreak, hinting at the virus’s spread beyond Britain.
28 Years Later is set roughly three decades after the initial collapse, returning to a UK still grappling with the virus’s aftermath. However, instead of picking up directly from the second film’s cliffhanger, it focuses on a new pocket of survivors isolated on Lindisfarne, or Holy Island, off the coast of Northern England. This sequestered community believes they’ve found safety behind natural barriers and strict protocols, isolated from the mainland via a causeway accessible only at low tide. Yet, this fragile peace is shattered when a member ventures back into the mainland, revealing just how much the world – and its inhabitants – have changed.
A Striking New Visual Language
Danny Boyle’s return brings with it a significant evolution in visual style, thanks to his reunion with cinematographer Anthony Dod Mantle. The original 28 Days Later was famously shot on consumer-grade camcorders, creating a raw, found-footage-esque “digital murk” that perfectly suited the film’s grim, immediate horror. For 28 Years Later, Boyle and Mantle have embraced cutting-edge technology, utilizing an array of iPhone 15 Max cameras mounted on a custom rig.
This shift moves their aesthetic away from the original’s “punkish ugliness” toward an “anodyne and scarifying clarity.” The use of lightweight equipment and a dramatic, ultra-panoramic aspect ratio results in a “frenetic but sophisticated” visual scheme boasting a “stunningly realized sense of scale.” The compositions expertly exploit exterior locations, using negative space to create an overwhelming feeling of being simultaneously stranded and encircled. Large-scale sequences, like a glimpse of distant fire or figures cresting a hill in silhouette against an endless horizon, are pushed into the realm of “authentically cosmic horror.” This updated approach maintains an unsettling edge while delivering a breathtakingly clear and expansive vision of the ravaged landscape. As Mantle reportedly reacted to the idea of using smartphones, “He said the word ‘smartphone’ and I looked at him kind of like Beavis and Butt-Head,” yet the technical daring pays off handsomely.
Alex Garland’s Deeply Human Horror Script
Beyond the visual spectacle, Alex Garland’s screenplay is earning accolades as potentially the best of his career. Garland masterfully filters his recurring thematic concerns – the fragility of social codes, the ambiguity of human nature, the grim realities of heavily armed survival – through a “multifaceted series of emotional prisms.”
While delivering the expected “gory genre goods,” the script excels at exposing and touching “profound emotional nerves,” drawing comparisons to devastating moments from the original film. The tension between the film’s “outsized presentation” and its “intimate dramaturgy” is palpable and bracing, creating an “epic that grows increasingly overwhelming as it shrinks its field of view.”
Crucially, Garland reinforces the distinction that the infected are victims of an illness, not supernatural beings. The film even suggests a restoration of their humanity in moments, exploring whether these “Rage-compromised souls” deserve respect, notably in a contemplative “bone temple” scene. This focus elevates the narrative beyond simple survival horror, shifting the thematic core from the fear of infection to the more primal fears of death and the “other,” drawing timely, subtle parallels to contemporary societal anxieties stemming from global events like pandemics, migration, and isolationism.
Isolation on Holy Island
The choice of Lindisfarne as the primary setting is highly effective. This isolated outcropping, connected to the mainland by a tidal causeway, serves as a potent natural metaphor. Garland leverages this for themes of isolationism and insularity, drawing implicit links to the post-Brexit political climate. The community here is depicted as staunch, time-warped survivors who “fetishize their distance,” adopting metallic masks and rallying around their flag, embodying a defiant, almost nationalistic, resistance to the outside world.
Survival on the island is harsh, involving rituals like supervised hunting expeditions to the mainland where boys learn bow and arrow skills, cultivating an appreciation for their tough, secure life behind iron gates by witnessing the dangers beyond.
Family Bonds Tested by the Apocalypse
At the heart of the story is a father (Jamie, played by Aaron Taylor-Johnson) and his son (Spike, played by Alfie Williams). An early section follows them on one of these tense mainland hunting trips, functioning as an accomplished “scare machine.” However, the narrative deepens upon their return. Spike, seeing his sick mother (Isla, played by Jodie Comer) languishing, becomes less focused on defending the island community and more determined to protect her. Defying the island’s strict rules, he decides the only way to help her is to sneak back to the treacherous mainland in search of a legendary rogue doctor.
While the father-son passages are tense and thriller-like, Spike’s solo foray into the infected world takes on a more “uncanny” quality, reminiscent of a “fairy tale or a vision quest.”
An Evolving Threat
The infected themselves show signs of evolution. While initial sightings include the lumbering, corpulent “slow and low” variants, the film introduces faster “berserkers” and intimidating new “alphas” – behemoths who may or may not possess more intelligence than their feral counterparts. Later in the film, their behavior displays unprecedented developments connected to the underlying motif of family bonds.
The film isn’t afraid to take risks with its set pieces, including one particularly “outrageous” sequence aboard an abandoned train that threatens to send the movie “off the rails” in the best possible way. These moments keep the audience on edge while pushing the boundaries of the genre.
Compelling Performances
The cast rises admirably to the occasion. Alfie Williams delivers a moving portrayal of the young, “furtive and sad” Spike, particularly effective in scenes with his on-screen parents. Aaron Taylor-Johnson and Jodie Comer provide strong support, effectively embodying their respective parental archetypes under duress. Comer, in particular, has been highlighted for her “impressive” performance.
Ralph Fiennes makes a late-game appearance as Dr. Kelson, a character that allows Fiennes to utilize his underrated ability to convey a “halting, controlled sort of tenderness” alongside “phenomenally morbid comedy.” His scenes mark the film’s “expressionist peak,” a sequence of “stark, graphic power” that is both brutally pulp-like and imbued with “legitimately shivery metaphysics.” Kelson’s perspective, suggesting the infected and uninfected are perhaps more alike than different, adds a layer of introspective horror, prompting reflection on mortality in a way that some reviewers compare favorably to how the COVID-19 pandemic forced similar societal reckonings (in contrast to the judgmental reactions seen during the AIDS crisis).
Looking Ahead
The film concludes with a coda that explicitly sets up a sequel, 28 Years Later: The Bone Temple, already shot back-to-back. While some might find this ending “extremely goofy” or feel it potentially undermines the complex emotions built earlier, it also signals that Boyle and Garland are “playing the long game,” willing to “rewrite the rules” as they build a new trilogy.
Ultimately, 28 Years Later is a triumphant return to a beloved horror universe. It successfully honors the legacy of the original while forging its own path with a striking visual aesthetic, a rich, thematic script, compelling performances, and a willingness to take creative risks. It’s a powerful, engaging, and thought-provoking horror film that leaves you wanting more even as its terrifying imagery lingers in your throat.
