FILM OF THE WEEK: 28 Years Later - Reviewed by Roe McDermott

More than two decades after 28 Days Later redefined the zombie genre for a post-9/11 world, Danny Boyle returns with 28 Years Later, a bold, ambitious, and deeply uneven third entry in a franchise that has never been content to play by the rules. While it doesn’t build directly on the threads left dangling by 28 Weeks Later - most notably that chilling final shot in Paris - Boyle and returning screenwriter Alex Garland instead opt for a soft reset. The Rage virus, we’re told via a brisk chyron, was “driven back from continental Europe,” leaving Britain once again isolated, quarantined, and left to self-destruct as the world moves forward. It’s a rich metaphor for Brexit-era insularity, though like several of the film’s big thematic swings, it’s introduced and then largely left behind.

Still, the metaphor-laden landscape is one of Boyle’s greatest strengths, and he makes the most of it. Political commentary seeps into the film’s imagery and setting, though not always coherently. There's also a sadly predictable complaint: the film describes ‘Britain’ as an exclusion zone, then shows a map of the U.K. and Ireland. Come on, now.

The story centres on young Spike (an impressive Alfie Williams, channelling a young Jamie Bell) living with his parents Jamie (Aaron Taylor-Johnson) and Isla (Jodie Comer) on a remote Scottish island. Their quiet, secluded life is marked by subtle decay - Isla's memory falters, and the mainland is an ominous shadow across the water. When father and son cross a narrow causeway for a rite-of-passage hunting trip, they encounter not just the infected but a cruel, broken world that will strip Spike of his innocence.

The first half of the film is filled with bold stylistic choices and compelling ideas. Boyle experiments with religious undertones, surreal hallucinations, and striking militarist imagery - schoolboys in uniform training under Kipling poems and Shakespearean speeches, eerie folklore, and haunting uses of landscape. His use of iPhones and degraded footage enhances the disorientation, though it occasionally distracts. Editor Jon Harris leans into the chaos with jarring cuts and non-linear inserts that evoke a fractured psyche.

Perhaps the most disappointing decision of all is the soundtrack. Gone is the minimalism of John Murphy’s ‘In the House, In a Heartbeat’, which defined the original film's atmosphere with haunting restraint. In its place is an overbearing score by Young Fathers, which is far less evocative and undermines the mood at precisely the moments when dread should bloom. It’s hard not to wonder how much more potent several key sequences might have been with a quieter, more meditative sonic landscape. It's a recurring issue: 28 Years Later has endless movement, but little slow-building tension. The first half in particular trades in speed and spectacle, and while those qualities lend themselves to standout action beats - like a gripping causeway chase under aurora-lit skies - they rarely produce the suffocating unease that defined the franchise’s best moments.

The second half shifts gears dramatically. What begins as a tense, blood-soaked horror transforms into something more mythic and dreamy, as Spike and his mother embark on a journey that trades dread for cautious wonder. The visuals soften and the tone grows more introspective. Comer and Williams share a delicate, moving chemistry, lending the story a quiet emotional core that grounds even its most surreal moments.

Ralph Fiennes delivers a standout supporting turn, anchoring one of the film’s most philosophical sequences with grace and emotional heft. Echoeing recent global traumas - Covid, especially - Fiennes' performance reminds us that this franchise has always been about more than just survival. It’s about grief, memory, and what’s left when the world collapses. Previous films showed us the brokenness of humanity, but Fiennes’ character restores hope and meaning in beautiful ways.

Not everything lands. The tonal fracture between the film’s halves is dramatic, and some of the most promising ideas - particularly in the first act - are dropped without payoff. A major character decision feels inexplicable. A potentially world-changing revelation about the infected is brushed aside. And the climactic scene, clearly setting the stage for the next film, is so tonally jarring it undermines the emotional journey that came before and almost feels like a prank. There’s a frayed feeling to the film’s three strands that fail to come together.

Yet despite its flaws, 28 Years Later is never dull. Boyle doesn’t coast on nostalgia - this isn’t a rehash, but a reimagining. It’s a film brimming with energy, ideas, and visual invention. If it stumbles under the weight of its ambition, it’s a noble fall. There’s a real sense of purpose here, a desire to explore how horror can intersect with myth, politics, and coming-of-age drama. The result is messy, but also deeply human.

If this is indeed the start of a new trilogy, as the final scenes suggest, then there’s every reason to hope that the already-filmed The Bone Temple will refine and expand on the groundwork laid here. 28 Years Later might be fragmented, but it's also fearless. It promises apocalypse, and delivers not just chaos, but the shards of something potentially great.

• In cinemas now. Watch the trailer below: