“28 Years Later” Seeks Humanity in a Shattered World
By now it’s safe to say that Danny Boyle’s 28 Days Later will stand the test of time. Not only did it reinvent the zombie subgenre with Rage-infected humanoids sprinting across the British countryside, it kicked off a cultural zombie obsession with titles breaking through to mainstream audiences. But any zombie film lives and dies by its reflection of humanity, and in this regard, 28 Days Later rises above a crowded field. It’s a grim exploration of parental devotion and one of the greatest love stories the genre has to offer. Boyle’s frenetic apocalypse also explores the darker side of humanity and the way we treat each other when the rules fall away. Juan Carlos Fresnadillo’s 28 Weeks Later doubles down on nihilism with a grim story of failed reconstruction. This bombastic film asks whether civilizations can ever truly evolve or if emotion will always get in the way. Will we have the patience to untangle the proverbial Gordian Knot or can we justify bombing it to smithereens?
Boyle and screenwriter Alex Garland reunite with 28 Years Later, expanding this brutal world and catching us up to the present day. Though the Rage Virus was driven out of mainland Europe, the UK has been deemed a lost cause. The entire island is under permanent quarantine and survivors have been left to fend for themselves. But despite this death sentence, some are thriving in the overgrown wasteland. In an island community off the coast of Scotland, Jamie (Aaron Taylor-Johnson) prepares to take his son Spike (Alfie Williams) past the protective barricades for the first time. It’s an important rite of passage for the 12-year-old boy as he begins preparing to serve his community. This tiny Scottish village appears to be something of a utopia with communal water, shared resources, and representative government, but the rules are clear: no one will risk this fragile balance and there will be no rescue party should they run into trouble outside the gates.
Nearly three decades after presenting a devastated London, Boyle moves the story to the Scottish Highlands. A harrowing opening sequence follows father and son through a breathtaking wilderness filled with lush greenery, dense forest, and endless fields of waist-high wildflowers. Cattle roam freely through abandoned homes and flocking crows swoop through the gorgeous night sky. But Boyle will not let us admire the landscape for long. In addition to the infected we’ve seen in previous films, we now have slow, bloated monsters that lurch and crawl across the floors, munching on worms and maggots they find on the ground. We also see an evolved variation of the infected in Alphas who are bigger, stronger, and slightly more cunning. Not only can they command a horde of infected, but they’re able to execute rudimentary plans of attack. Set to Taylor Holmes’ nerve-shattering rendition of Rudyard Kipling’s “Boots,” we creep through the lush yet deadly hills knowing that certain death lurks around every corner.
However, harkening back to Boyle’s original film, the human monsters are ever more frightening. While exploring an abandoned house, Jaime and Spike happen upon an unfortunate man who’s been bound and left for the infected to devour, the word “Jimmy” sliced into his bare chest. In addition ot saturated footage from an Alpha’s perspective, Boyle also infuses the story with brief scenes of primitive armies who defend the territory of their feudal lords. Combined with mentions of “odd” mainlanders, these jarring glimpses foreshadow vicious territorialism in future installments.
But the bulk of the film involves Spike’s efforts to save his sick mother Isla (Jodie Comer). With no legitimate caregivers on the island, he’s forced to guide her through the dangerous mainland in search of Dr. Kelson (Ralph Fiennes), a mysterious doctor with a sinister reputation. Along the way, they encounter a stranded soldier from the outside world, a monstrous Alpha predator, and a gorgeous depiction of Memento mori that beautifully encapsulates the scale of destruction. While not quite as emotional as Frank (Brendan Gleeson)’s devastating transformation in the original film, Boyle and Garland relax into themes of sorrow and grief as Spike is confronted with painful truths. Comer and Fiennes ground the story with endearing performances while Taylor-Johnson pulls at our heartstrings as a conflicted father town between protecting his family and daring to seek out a bit of joy. But Williams proves to be the heart of the film, introducing us to horrific elements of this unforgiving world while embodying the future we’re fighting for.
This long-awaited sequel may not be destined to become a genre-defining classic, but it’s an elegant and nuanced depiction of those left to rot in a forgotten world and the humanity that springs from the most dire circumstances. A bit episodic, the film begins with a bang by reacquainting us with a world long infected by Rage, then transitions into a harrowing look at long-term survival. With two films still to come, it’s perhaps too early to form definitive conclusions about what is clearly meant to be an opening chapter. But 28 Years Later finds the franchise’s trademark mixture of horror and heart, possibly introducing us to an intriguing new era of zombie lore.
Jenn Adams is a writer, podcaster, and film critic from Nashville, TN. Find her social media nonsense @jennferatu.