‘The more you kill, the easier it gets…’
I have written extensively about how 28 Days Later revolutionised the zombie movie back in 2002. How the hell do you follow that? While this third film in the franchise languished in development hell, the world around us changed immeasurably. While it once felt far-fetched that Britain would end up isolated and alone, contaminated by a virus that made people lose all sense of humanity and reason, we now find ourselves in a situation where not only is that a reality, but something the country has wilfully succumbed to, at the enthusiastic behest of at least half of the population…
28 years after the events of the first film (obviously), we find ourselves on the Holy Island of Lindisfarne – a real place that resides off the northeast coast of England. The film is bookended with two scenes that are very much sequel starters, but the bulk of the story takes place in a self-contained community cut off from the mainland and the infected by the causeway that connects Lindisfarne to the rest of the world. We begin with Jamie (Aaron Taylor-Johnson) and his 12-year-old son, Spike (Alfie Williams), about to embark on the latter’s first hunting trip. A coming-of-age tradition that sees the boy hunting the infected rather than wild animals. Meanwhile, Isla (Jodie Comer), the matriarch of the family, is bed-ridden and deteriorating in the absence of any proper healthcare professionals within the community. Later, we also meet Dr. Kelson (Ralph Fiennes), a former NHS doctor who now devotes his life to remembering and honouring the dead – infected or otherwise.
Director Danny Boyle and writer Alex Garland, reuniting here for the first time since Sunshine in 2007, have a clear vision here and something visceral to say about modern day Britain. Memory and nostalgia are key themes, with Garland forcing us to confront not just what we choose to remember, but why we choose to remember it. In one scene, we see legend and myth being born in real time, despite the protestations of someone who was actually there. What use are facts in the face of nostalgia, however? Garland also explores masculinity. The relationship between Jamie and Spike is authentic in as much as it is nuanced and messy and bursting with emotion. The love between a father and a son is a complicated thing, Garland offers, unlike the uncomplicated love that Spike shares with his mother. There also seems to be a commentary on ignoring ‘experts’ (like an NHS doctor, for example) in favour of misinformed men who dress up populism and empty rhetoric as ‘logic’. I must be at pains to point out, however, that other than a couple of shots of a tattered St. George’s Cross, none of this feels overly didactic or too on the nose. Indeed, these themes only reveal themselves after careful consideration, because above all else, this is entertainment.
I won’t spoil too much here, but the final act sees Comer and particularly Williams come into their own (the latter produces an astonishing turn for a child actor), and the conclusion of their story line provides a gut punch the likes of which I have not felt for a long time. In lesser hands, the final moments the two shared together could have been overly sentimental, but the performance of the cast coupled with Garland’s tender writing and Boyle’s assured direction combine to create one of the most beautiful cinematic moments of the year. It’s a shame that the Academy is so averse to genre cinema because there are several Oscar worthy performances here. The resonance is only heightened by Young Fathers utterly spellbinding score, which somehow manages to nod to and at times even surpass John Murphy’s original.
28 Years Later takes plenty of big swings (the final five minutes will no doubt prove to be controversial – I loved it), and nearly all of them come off. This is proper filmmaking. Artistic. Courageous. Powerful. Unique. Exceptional cinema.
