A new trilogy from Danny Boyle and Alex Garland keeps focus on the course of humanity in the midst of horror
Back in 2002, director Danny Boyle (127 Hours, Trainspotting) and writer Alex Garland (Annihilation, Men, Civil War) shook up the zombie genre. While technically not ‘undead’, their Rage infected monsters set themselves apart from the stumbling forces that came before. Fast, violent, and visceral, realized by filmmaking of the same ilk. The subsequent legacy in horror is undeniable, even its own (sorely underrated) sequel 28 Weeks Later expanding on the approach. A generation later and the pair are back with a start to a new trilogy, one that again forges it’s own path into horror and the human condition.
28 years since the outbreak, the contagion is successfully confined to the UK. A strict quarantine is in effect, military patrols stalking the oceans. You set foot on the British Isles and you stay there. The mainland is a dangerous place, the remaining infected have adapted over the long term with some eking out an existence foraging on grubs, others becoming alphas, smarter and larger, often leading packs of infected to hunt their prey. A community persists with this on their doorstep at Lindisfarne, also known as Holy Island. A tidal island off the northeast coast of England. Defended by staves, barricades, and rudimentary projectile armaments, the real strength comes from its location, Access is limited to a narrow causeway that creates not only a bottleneck to defend, but a path to the mainland that is only accessible under low tide. The people who live here persists through agrarian tradition, communal duty, and a wary eye trained on the mainland.
Continuing their traditions is Spike (a breakout performance from Alfie Williams), who at 12 years old is about to make his first foray to the mainland to secure his first kill, as well as forage for supplies. Younger than the usual age for such a rite of initiation, his overzealous father Jamie (Aaron Taylor-Johnson) insists he is ready and accompanies him on the expedition, despite the protestations of the boy’s ailing mother Isla (Jodie Comer). A dark and dangerous exposure to the harsh realities of the mainland leave Spike shaken, a state compounded by the jarring impact of the raucous celebrations that herald his return. After witnessing his drunken father’s tryst with another woman, Spike’s loses hope that anyone cares for his mothers health like he does. His exposure to the mainland making him aware of a hermit surviving there. A man feared for his unusual behavior but long rumored to be a former doctor, which if true, could offer some hope to solving the cause of her declining health. Barely initiated and with a physically and mentally impacted mother under his wing, he sets them both across the causeway to seek aid.
The first real glimpse we had of the film came with a teaser trailer that utilized a 1915 rendition of Rudyard Kipling’s poem “Boots” as its soundtrack. Written in 1903, and informed by the sights and sounds of the Boer War. Recitation matches the cadence of marching infantry. It’s percussive and perturbing, echoing the escalating dread that comes with the trek toward conflict, or it’s approach. Leveraged into an early scene of the film, it’s intent and effect echoes the psychological toll of warfare and the necessary bunker mentality needed by the peoples of Holy Island. They lie in the shadow of a cursed land, sealed off from the world by patrols, the rationing of supplies makes it clear that the world has turned its back on this last vestige of the Brits with nary an air drop in sight. Forced as well as required isolationism. They still hang a portrait of the Queen, but notably fly the English flag, not the Union flag. Another indicator of both the regressive tilt of these people and fragmentation of the natural order of things. It’s textured work, showcasing the post-apocalyptic work to ration, reuse, and rebuild a society, the strength of collaboration, as well as the emergence of cultural elements both old and new.
The expedition to the mainland is a great way to indoctrinate us to this land where the rage infected roam within their own ecological niches. Boyle’s longtime collaborator cinematographer Anthony Dod Mantle showing off a saturated and rich rendering of a land full of natural beauty, yet coated in death and detritus. Rundown farmhouses, haunting woods, hanging corpses, and structures built of bones of the dead hint at folk horror. We even glimpse even some relics of the past, notably the Angel of the North and a sad glimpse of the much cherished Sycamore Gap tree, which was tragically cut down in 2023. In counter, there are sights of villages and houses have been reclaimed by the forest vegetation and a night sky clear of light pollution showcase how the land heals and life moves on. From a technical perspective, the standout in this film is the use of rigs using 20 iPhones, cobbled together to give wide arching shots that could be used to generating sweeping views of action. Akin to a “bullet time” effect (more “arrow time” really) it certainly adds drama and immersion, especially in the action portions of the film. However it is overused, and when combined with an overindulgence of sharp cuts, freeze frames, or splicing in discordant or thematically adjacent footage and imagery, it reaches the point of distraction. Technique all too over gets in the way of the rest of the production, which is incredibly effective at building a tangible sense of dread.
The film adopts an adolescent point of view and its success in pulling this off is down to its young lead. Williams is impressive, shouldering most of the film and while conveying the fear and awe of this child, channels an acting maturity well beyond his years. Taylor-Johnson and Comer are authentic in their roles, which just feel more conducive to propelling their son’s progression through the movie than fully developed roles in their own right. Edvin Ryding is vital as a young Swedish soldier the mother and son encounter. Stranded after a shipwreck he offers up a contrast of the outside that has continued apace, highlighting differences but also offering up a little levity. The undeniable standout is Ralph Fiennes as Dr. Ian Kelson, a man who has taken on a solemn duty to the victims of the pandemic, and persists in this hellscape by slathering himself with iodine and taking on the rage infected with blow-darts loaded with tranquilizers. It’s a role that could be very easily overplayed, but here is delivered with a depth and weight that is particularly poignant, as well as wonderfully off-kilter. More than just a hermit in the wilderness, he provides a counterpoint to Spike’s own father. Another figure to showcase a different path through the horrors of this world. Rumors are that the next film in the series 28 Years Later: The Bone Temple (already shot by Nia DaCosta, Little Woods, Candyman) will focus focus on this character. If true, then we’ll be in for something rather special.
28 Years Later is clearly tasked with kickstarting this new era, and has baggage as a result. Some elements aren’t as cohesive or tonally attuned as they could be. Others are superficially explored, clearly holding at arms length for exploration in a future installment, the changes within the infected population being the most notable example. The last moments of the film ending gives tonal whiplash, but damn if that wild shift doesn’t gee up excitement for DaCosta’s contribution. Creatively, the decision to forgo the wider spectacle of the virus spreading beyond the British Isles (hinted at in 28 Weeks Later) is sure to be polarizing. Instead of going bigger, Boyle and Garland tread a similar path to the first film, looking to focus on a more intimate exploration of human nature in the face of challenge and trauma. The zombie theme is just a genre device to hang these things off of. We still get gnarly kills, gore, frantic pursuits, blood spattered faces, and big swinging zombie dicks, but running through the film is a remarkable sense of compassion and consideration. Boyle turns in a coming of age road movie. A contemplation of humanity responding to the pervading constant that is death. 28 Years Later is one of those works that offers a surprising and effective use of genre filmmaking, marrying horror with a truly heartfelt sentiment.
28 Years Later hits theaters on June 20th
