In a land filled with flesh eating zombies and sadistic killers decked out in tracksuits and blond wigs, the most mesmerizing aspects in Nia DaCosta’s bloody and invigorating film 28 Years Later: The Bone Temple are the moments of calm. The times where Dr. Kelson (Ralph Fiennes) and his once fearsome foe turned unlikely companion Samson (Chi Lewis-Parry), an Alpha zombie, are sitting together embracing nature while the former attempts to bridge the barriers that divide them.
Surrounded by a series of structures made of human skulls and bones, a temple of sorts that honours those who have died since the mainland was ravaged by the “rage virus” 28 years earlier, the compelling bond forming between man and beast provides a ray of hope in a world that has fallen into darkness.
Picking up immediately after the events of Danny Boyle’s 28 Years Later, the third film in the zombie franchise, DaCosta’s film commences with young Spike (Alfie Williams) being initiated into Sir Jimmy Crystal’s (Jack O’Connell) parkour loving gang, The Fingers. They may have been Spike’s saviours at the end of the last film, but it quickly becomes apparent to the young lad that the group might be more dangerous than the zombies he has encountered to that point.
Preaching the gospel of “Old Nick”, a mixture of his pastor father, Satan, and Christian iconography, Crystal has anointed himself the chosen one to lead the world’s wayward flock survivors. However, it takes more than believing in the scriptures he spouts to find salvation. To be part of his metaphorical church of one must endure a fight to the death with one of his Fingers members.
Reluctant to participate in such sadistic practices, Spike stabs his opponent in self-defence and winds up hitting a fatal artery. Assuming the slain young man’s position in the group, Spike is given a blond wig, which all The Fingers wear to honour their leader, and is thrown into a new nightmare he cannot wake up from. Similar to Alex’s Droogs in Stanley Kubrick’s A Clockwork Orange, Jimmy and his Fingers, who have names like Jimmy Ink (Erin Kellyman), Jimmy Snake (Ghazi Al Ruffai), and Jimmima (Emma Laird), revel in the anarchy and violence they inflict on those, living and undead, they come across.
Their version of administering the “grace” of Old Nick is gleefully skinning individuals while they are alive.
As Sir Jimmy Crystal spreads his gospel of terror on unsuspecting family at a nearby farmhouse, Dr. Kelson finds that his predator-prey relationship with Samson has taken a surprising turn. Using his special blow dart concoction of morphine and other chemicals to sedate the Alpha, he notices that Samson longs for the blissful high that only the drugs can provide. Taking the opportunity to study the zombie, Dr. Kelson begins to ponder the nature of humanity and whether there still might be hope for the infected.
Juxtaposing Dr. Kelson’s sense of optimism with Crystal’s skewed vision of faith, DaCosta’s film offers a searing exploration of the dangers that come with the cult of personality. While the audience is always aware that Crystal is a false prophet, one radicalized by the unshakable horrors he witnessed as a child, his volatile nature makes him a compelling character. He’s a man unafraid to use fear and manipulation force his disciples into conformity.
The sense of unpredictability that swirls around Crystal like freshly spritzed cologne, makes the inevitable meeting he has with the doctor fascinating to watch. Forging an unholy alliance of sorts, Dr. Kelson is placed in a position where he must decide whether going along with the crowd is more damaging for humanity, at least the remaining members, than standing up to the ruthlessness he sees.
Directing the film with a righteous ferocity, DaCosta’s film crackles with vigor. Whether she is making viewers squirm at the bloody violence that Crystal’s flock and the ravenous zombies evoke or dropping their jaws with a vibrant piece of theatre that Dr. Kelson stages to an Iron Maiden song, 28 Years Later: The Bone Temple is thrilling from beginning to end.
Part of what makes DaCosta’s film so captivating, aside from its sharp visuals that shift between picturesque and haunting, is the strong performances from the ensemble cast. Following up his deliciously villainous turn in Sinners, O’Connell once again transforms himself into another beguiling menace as Sir Jimmy Crystal. Conveying both a dangerously short fuse, while desperately wanting to keep up an image of sophistication, O’Connell can turn a simple story about the Teletubbies into a sinister moment.
The fact that Crystal has, in some ways, never been allowed to emotionally grow past his eight-year-old self, the time when the world became a living hell, makes his scenes with Dr. Kelson even more palpable. It helps that Fiennes is giving a masterclass performance as the doctor whose love for the world is as strong as his fondness for Duran Duran and Radiohead albums. Igniting the screen with flames of compassion, introspection, and humour, he turns Dr. Kelson into one of the year’s most enthralling characters.
Through Fiennes’ characters, DaCosta succeeds in tapping into the thought-provoking social roots of the zombie genre without ever feeling preachy. Her film raises intriguing questions about the ways cultism can quickly erode a society, and the dangers of losing sight of oneself when we fail to see the humanity in those deemed our enemy.
Offering one hell of a one two punch, after her 2025 film Hedda, DaCosta solidifies herself as one of the most exciting filmmakers working today. An absolute knockout, 28 Years Later: The Bone Temple is an electrifying and unforgettable work that proves the zombie genre has plenty of bite left.
