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Shot back-to-back with its predecessor ’28 Years Later’, the next instalment comes a mere six months later with ‘28 Years Later: The Bone Temple’.
Danny Boyle relinquished directorial duties on this one, with ‘Candyman’ director Nia DaCosta taking the reins with Boyle rumoured to come back for the recently-announced third film.
Beginning minutes after the bonkers ending of the last film, Spike (Alfie Williams) finds himself part of the ‘Jimmys’ led by their psychotic, vicious cult leader Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal (a chilling Jack O’Connell) as they roam the countryside murdering anyone they find, infected or not.
Elsewhere, Dr Ian Kelson (Ralph Fiennes) remains in his bone temple and has struck up a friendship with the infected Samson (Chi Lewis-Parry), full in the belief there is humanity in him and that a cure can be found. Eventually, Sir Jimmy and Dr Kelson collide.
First thing to say is ‘The Bone Temple’ is NOT a zombie film but a macabre morality tale which just happens to have zombies in it. With Boyle and cinematographer Anthony Dod Mantle replaced by Da Costa and Sean Bobbit respectively, ‘Bone Temple’ foregoes the frenetic nature of previous instalments, bringing a more contemplative, meticulous tone and it works.
It’s a film which has a lot to say, through the ‘Jimmys’, about cults and how, in the midst of a societal breakdown, all it takes is someone with a silver tongue to come in with a few promises to fill the void left by better angels.
Jimmy Crystal is a shyster and as evidenced in a conversation he has with Dr Kelson, knows he’s a shyster but, as any good cult leader does, Jimmy keeps hold of his ‘followers‘ through stories, intimidation and downright murder.
It’s also about the evil that men do, shown in (very) graphic detail by the Jimmys in a series of brutal, gory sequences featuring skin being flayed off bodies, entrails spilled, hooks in heads and much more.
This film is not for the squeamish.
On the softer end is Kelson in a gentler, hopeful arc where, once more, England’s green and pleasant land is put to good use.
The friendship between Kelson and Samson always has an undercurrent of dread – because you never know what an ‘infected’ will kick off – but is sweet and is punctuated with needle-drops like ‘Rio’ and ‘Girls on Film’ by Duran Duran, Radiohead’s ‘Everything Is In Its Right Place’ and, in the film’s most gloriously bonkers sequence, Iron Maiden’s ‘The Number of the Beast’. All of this is accompanied by Hildur Guðnadóttir’s score.
DaCosta and writer Alex Garland take some huge tonal swings which, despite the lack of zombie action that might annoy some, work and set up the third film with ‘that’ cameo.
Bring on part three!
