Jay Rohr
28 Years Later: The Bone Temple adds the order missing from the confined chaos of its predecessor. Director Nia DaCosta stokes the fire started by the previous installment then forges her own vision. What develops is a more straightforward tale that still manages to hit on an emotional level while delving into intensely horrific territory.
The story picks up a very short while after the close of 28 Years Later. Young Spike (Alfie Williams) is unwillingly thrust into a death match with another teenage lad. At risk of spoilers, he defeats his opponent and consequently becomes the newest member of Sir Jimmy Crystal’s (Jack O’Connell) pack of acolytes. This vicious micro cult wanders the land terrorizing other survivors like Satanic pilgrims on a sadistic tour of ruined Britain.
Meanwhile, Dr. Kelson (Ralph Fiennes) continues to inhabit his epic ossuary. He’s kept company by one of the rage virus Alpha’s, a giant brute he names Samson (Chi Lewis-Parry). The two develop a bizarre, yet hopeful friendship. Unfortunately, the peculiar pair draws the attention of Jimmy’s little horde.
28 Years Later: The Bone Temple presents part of a mutual whole. The second half of its preceding picture, these spiritual sequels to 28 Days Later are able to stand alone. It’s possible to see one without the other. Yet, they become more potent as a pair. Director Nia DaCosta (Candyman, The Marvels) eschews some of the more artsy grandiosity from the previous film without losing style. She cleverly takes elements from the other movie’s poetic inclination to maintain that feel in a more direct narrative.
Although there’s a consist through thread when it comes to cinematography, there are little differences in visuals whenever focusing on various perspectives. Case in point, as the camera focuses on Samson, the screen gains bits of distortion, while the accompanying audio becomes increasingly cacophonous. This provides a sense of being in the maddening world a rage virus victim inhabits. The gorier actions of Jimmy’s tribe of sadists are sometimes slightly blurry, rarely in the center of frame, as if someone is trying not to look, yet can’t help seeing the horrible things they do. It’s never enough to not witness their wickedness, but the idea of avoiding the sight is there.
These elements ultimately come together in the film’s conclusion. Describing it detail by detail would be a criminal spoiler. Suffice it to say, 28 Years Later: The Bone Temple ends with a glorious blend of its multitude of subtle cinematic elements. This gives the final act a certain chaos offset by fragile comprehensible order during an epic display of diabolism.
What’s amazing is how little these elements call attention to themselves. 28 Years Later: The Bone Temple plays smoothly without hinting at its various gears. At the same time, this enhances certain instances. Consider how taking the gore out of the center draws more attention to it. And The Bone Temple has some truly unsettling moments.
Blood is shed liberally onscreen. Fortunately, the movie never dumps buckets without first solidifying some emotional stakes. No one is butchered for the sake of shock. Rather, people meet messy, violent ends that are a strange commentary on violence. After all, it takes a certain mentality to enjoy such sights in real life, and the reactions of main characters emphasize that. Even Jimmy’s enthralled psychopaths occasionally lose their lunch observing what transpires.
It isn’t that 28 Years Later: The Bone Temple is ever preaching anti-violence. Moreso, the film explores the warping effect of gratuitous brutality; the way a mind fractures then seeks anything to validate such behavior, even following a dubious cult leader. That’s because The Bone Temple is, not unlike its predecessor, about what it’s like to grow up in such an apocalyptic scenario.
The script by Alex Garland (Ex Machina, Civil War) essentially follows three people who have been forced to live their whole lives throughout this horrifying event. Some grim serendipity then entwines them, tying the lot to what becomes a seemingly inevitable shared outcome. The genius here is how 28 Years Later: The Bone Temple never shows evil, so much as ruined people trying to make sense of abominable relentless violence.
It’s the humanity at its core which makes the movie so captivating. This is a tale of loneliness, insanity, and cruelty featuring desperate people. Some, longing for order, become bloodthirsty members of a cult, while others ration the last drops of the milk of human kindness. The relatability of each is as moving as it is unsettling.
That’s because a phenomenal cast brings things to life. Chi Lewis-Parry (Gladiator II) may not seem to do much other than be an enormous brute, but there is a subtlety that builds to a heartbreaking instant. Alfie Williams reprises his role well enough, though the character does end up in the backseat, more carried along by events rather than participating in them. Erin Kellyman (The Falcon and the Winter Soldier) is compelling as a questioning acolyte beginning to doubt her leader.
Speaking of which, Jack O’Connell (Sinners) is risking being type cast. He marvelously inhabits the bizarrely charming, yet easily unsettling Jimmy Crystal. The various performers portraying his followers manage to stand out on their own, but it’s his way of puppeteering them that makes this manipulator odious, even as the film suggests it’s his only way of survival.
As such, there’s a certain tragedy that runs throughout The Bone Temple. Nowhere is this clearer than the narrative arc of Dr. Kelson. Ralph Fiennes (The Return) once again brings a touch of whimsy alongside heart cracking loneliness that makes the character pitiable and admirable at the same time. And I will never listen to Iron Maiden the same way because of him.
28 Years Later: The Bone Temple isn’t as poetically stylized as its predecessor. However, that may be to its benefit. Nia DaCosta manages to maintain the intentions of that picture, while providing a smoother narrative. Instead of abstracted themes, there is a definite sense of a story about how people maintain hope. Sometimes in wicked ways. Sometimes through kindness. Yet, DaCosta makes both compelling to witness.
