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Live to survive or live to die? In a world engulfed by rage, fear and bloodshed, Danny Boyle’s “28 Years Later” forces viewers to confront this dilemma.

A distant sequel to Boyle’s “28 Days Later,” this installment doesn’t just expand the timeline, but reimagines the tone. He merges apocalyptic horror with contemplative drama in a film split right down the middle.

“28 Years Later” marks the director’s long-awaited return to the horror genre. The script sees the return of writer Alex Garland, a collaborative effort between him and Boyle we haven’t seen since 2007’s “Sunshine.” Although the film was marketed as a sequel, it functions just as well as a strong standalone narrative.

The movie opens in chaos: a group of children huddle around a TV as sirens blare and violence erupts outside. An infected breaks in. One boy, Jimmy, (Rocco Haynes) escapes and sprints to a nearby church, where he finds his father (Sandy Batchelor) praying. Jimmy’s dad tells him to hide while he waits in the middle of the church for the infected to break in. It’s a harrowing sequence that sets the emotional tone early, balancing horror with childhood tragedy.

Twenty-eight years later, the story shifts to Spike (Alfie Williams), a 12-year-old boy who only knows the remote, quarantined island he grew up on. He prepares to venture to the mainland for an expedition with his father Jamie (Aaron Taylor-Johnson), an experienced survivalist who has trained him since childhood.

Boyle’s direction immediately stands out. The duo’s journey across a tidal causeway is intercut with archival warfare footage, drawing primal connections between past and present. A haunting rendition, sung by actor Taylor Holmes, of Rudyard Kipling’s “Boots” underscores their march.

“There’s no discharge in war,” Holmes sings, echoing the idea that war — or in this case the fight against the infection — never truly ends.

The film’s 2.76:1 aspect ratio is much wider than the standard definition and makes the mainland appear vast and unknowable. A constant use of tilted Dutch angles adds unease, keeping viewers off balance in the foreign environment. Alloysious Massaquoi’s sinister score sends chills down spines with his use of heavy synths, while the film’s vibrating colors alienate the two from the land.

Spike’s first encounter with an infected marks a clear rite of passage: the first kill. It’s brutal and intense, but signals a turning point in Spike’s development. In a moment of uncertainty, he releases his arrow — not at a deer or bird — but at a groaning, squirming monster.

Soon after, Boyle uses 20 iPhones to capture and achieve a “bullet time” effect in fight scenes, heightening the gore with a level of flair that feels futuristic yet brutal. The phones are organized in a semicircle shape around the subject. Footage is captured on each phone at the same moment, changing the perspective seamlessly.

Spike and Jamie’s journey climaxes with a tense chase across the shin-high causeway as they run from an alpha — a larger, smarter, deadlier infected. The scene ends with a triumphant flaming crossbow bolt to the creature’s heart, marking the end of the first act.

But then the film — and the direction of the story — pivots.

On the duo’s return, members of the island throw a party in their honor. During the celebration, Spike watches his father sneak off with another woman, ruining both his trust and vision of Jamie.

Spike returns home to care for his mother, Isla (Jodie Comer), whose worsening memory hints at her mental decline. He learns of a mysterious doctor who Jamie once visited on the mainland. Desperate to save his mother — and distraught by his father’s actions — Spike sets fire to a shed as a diversion, escaping with Isla in search of help. From here, the film’s tone softens dramatically. The pacing slows, dialogue takes center stage and the adrenaline of survival shifts to themes of care, loss and adolescence.

The tonal shift is jarring, especially after the introduction of Erik (Edvin Ryding), a stranded patrol soldier who adds a strange comedic edge. Him and Spike’s banter is lighthearted and humane, clashing tales from outside the quarantine zone with the dystopia in the first act. While it follows the act’s purpose thematically, moments like this make the second half feel disconnected from the danger at hand.

But in various moments, Boyle uses this contrast masterfully. In one scene, the group encounters an infected giving birth in an abandoned train car. Rather than fighting, they observe. Spike doesn’t kill; he watches life emerge. It’s a clear juxtaposition from his earlier transformation into a killer, reframing the apocalypse not only as a place of death, but also as a place where life continues.

Even the visual makeup of the film shifts in the second half. There are no more quick cuts, angled shots and brutality, instead favoring longer takes, wider spaces and weighty conversations.

When Spike and Isla finally reach the mysterious Dr. Kelson (Ralph Fiennes), they find a man who rejects violence entirely. Kelson’s look contrasts starkly with the bloodied, dark-toned clothing of the survivors — he’s covered in a warm, orange-hued serum designed to mitigate the effects of the infected.

Kelson doesn’t want to kill the infected. He wants to lessen their suffering, recognizing they were once people too. He’s the opposite of Jamie, who believes survival justifies brutality. The two characters are a microcosm for the film as a whole. In the first act, society militarizes against the infected while the second humanizes them.

Then comes the film’s climactic revelation of Isla’s diagnosis: cancer. Even in a place encapsulated by viral infection, ordinary human death still exists.

Fiennes delivers a heartfelt monologue about memento mori, which translates to “remember you must die,” highlighting that life and survival are never permanent. Sometimes accepting death is the most human thing we can do. Isla is peacefully euthanized and Kelson gives her skull to Spike as a physical token of her memory. It’s poetic. It’s devastating. It feels like the perfect conclusion to the film.

But the movie doesn’t end there.

Instead, we jump forward. Spike, now living off the mainland, is cornered by an infected when Jimmy (Jack O’Connell), now an adult, reappears with a small army. What follows is a bizarre and cartoonish action sequence with exaggerated stunt fighting and flashy visuals. The film closes with Jimmy wearing his father’s cross upside down, a symbolic gesture demonstrating his distrust in religion after his father’s traumatic death. However, the scene feels disconnected from the narrative arc we just experienced.

This final sequence is the film’s greatest flaw. While the first two acts build a layered exploration of survival, the last moments undercut that message with a spectacle that feels spurious and awkward.

Despite its ill-fitting ending, “28 Years Later” is expertly crafted. Boyle’s experimental camerawork and artistry yield fresh and vivid imagery. Performances from Fiennes and Williams elevate the film even further, deepening both the drama and emotional core. While the tone shift and awkward ending certainly disrupt the cohesion of ideas, its powerful themes still provoke a worthwhile experience.

It’s more than just a zombie survival movie — it’s an exploration of life in a place defined by death.

Published on June 23, 2025 at 3:57 pm