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Cinema Review: 28 Years Later (2025) – an epic horror sequel; one for the (r)ages!

Cinema Review: 28 Years Later (2025)

Directed by Danny Boyle

Written by Alex Garland

Produced by Danny Boyle, Alex Garland, Andrew Macdonald, Peter Rice & Bernie Bellew

Main Cast: Jodie Comer, Aaron Taylor-Johnson, Jack O’Connell, Alfie Williams, Edvin Ryding and Ralph Fiennes

Cinematography by Anthony Dod Mantle

Edited by Jon Harris

** MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS **



We’re foot—slog—slog—slog—sloggin’ over Africa
Foot—foot—foot—foot—sloggin’ over Africa —
(Boots—boots—boots—boots—movin’ up and down again!)
There’s no discharge in the war! —
Rudyard Kipling

The opening sequences of 28 Days Later (2002), directed by Danny Boyle and written by Alex Garland, are some of the most haunting and iconic introductions in cinema—transcending the horror genre to deliver something mythic, mournful, and terrifyingly real. They are masterclasses in mood-building, world-setting, and emotional manipulation, and redefined what the modern apocalypse could feel like on screen. From the terrifying raging simian attacks to the stunning silence of hollow streets and buildings of London as Jim (Cillian Murphy) awakes to an incredibly changed and empty planet. Here Boyle used guerrilla filmmaking as an artistic weapon with digital video blending with silence and dread, beauty and decay, loneliness and rage creating a grimy realism that no big budget blockbuster could replicate.

The opening sequence of the sequel, 28 Weeks Later (2007), was damned good as well, although what followed was not as formidable as the original. If we’re honest it was more of a high-quality straight-to-video effort, especially when compared to the incredible first film. But what of 28 Years Later (2025), which finds Boyle and Garland re-teaming with a stellar cast including: Jodie Comer, Aaron Taylor-Johnson, Ralph Fiennes and newcomer, Alfie Williams. It opens with yet another impressive opening sequence in 2002, as a family of kids are attacked in their Scottish home. Escaping on frantic foot is young Jimmy who finds his father, the local minister, in his church proclaiming the ‘end of days!’ Move forward twenty-eight years to 2031 and the film joins, interestingly enough, not Jimmy, but a survivor community living in Lindisfarne, a tidal island connected by a fortified causeway.

Focusing on the family unit of twelve-year-old son, Spike (Alfie Williams), and parents, Isla (Jodie Comer) plus father, Jamie (Aaron Taylor-Johnson), 28 Years Later (2025) marks a ferocious and exhilarating return to the infected-ravaged world. It is not simply a continuation, but a full-fledged reimagining that deepens, widens, and accelerates the mythology, style, and thematic power of the series. It is not just a sequel—it’s an evolution, one that pulses with the blood of Romero’s bleak social horror and the serialized depth of The Walking Dead, while forging its own cinematic identity: brutal, urgent, and conceptually masterful.



From its opening moments, 28 Years Later plunges viewers into a world far beyond what we’ve seen before. Civilization hasn’t recovered—it has, like the zombies, mutated. The virus is no longer an outbreak or an aftermath; it is an ecosystem. What began as a confined crisis in 28 Days Later, and widened into militarized guilt and familial betrayal in 28 Weeks Later, now becomes a reckoning. Thematically, the film touches on generational trauma, hybrid immunity, rites of passage, euthanasia and the evolution of the rage undead. Jamie trains his son in the art zombie-hunting, before the middle act finds Spike attempting to save his unwell mum. At this time he both matures and overcomes several battles with mutated inhumans.

The visual grammar of 28 Years Later stays true to the DNA of the series: raw, immediate, and grimy. But it’s also evolved. The digital grunge of 28 Days Later is elevated with modern tools, while still embracing a handheld, documentary-style urgency. Towns and buildings aren’t just abandoned—they’re fossilized in trauma. New scenes are suffused with ash, dust, decay, blood, plasma and rusted iconography, painting a world that’s both rotting and fighting to be reborn. This is a horror film that smells like blood and diesel. It feels dirty. Every camera move, whip pan and smash cut drags you to hell and makes you feel like your life is in danger.

28 Years Later doesn’t just revive a franchise—it transforms it into a towering trilogy of infection, collapse, and spiritual trauma. It draws from Romero’s cynicism, The Walking Dead‘s moral complexity, and its own raw, kinetic legacy to deliver something uniquely powerful: a horror film that is both visceral and cerebral, intimate and operatic. While there are some script and pacing issues toward the end of the second act, Boyle directs superbly. Plus, the film benefits from some memorable performances, notably Comer, Fiennes and young Alfie Williams. Lastly, it has one of the most startling endings to a film I have seen in a long time. It is frankly nuts. Yet, it ensures 28 Years Later (2025) is a modern horror classic, pulsing with urgency, style, and an almost unbearable truth: that the most terrifying viruses don’t infect the body—they infect the soul. Bring on the sequel!

Mark: 9.5 out of 11



CINEMA REVIEW: THE BIKERIDERS (2023)

CINEMA REVIEW: THE BIKERIDERS (2023)

Directed by Jeff Nichols

Screenplay by Jeff Nichols (Based on The Bikeriders by Danny Lyon)

Produced by Sarah Green, Brian Kavanaugh-Jones and Arnon Milchan

Main Cast: Jodie Comer, Austin Butler, Tom Hardy, Michael Shannon, Mike Faist, Norman Reedus, Boydf Holbrook etc.

Cinematography by Adam Stone

*** MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS ***


Set in the mid-sixties, the biopic The Bikeriders (2023), centres on a bike club (or what we could be considered a ‘Hell’s Angel’ gang of the era) called ‘The Vandals.’ Started by Tom Hardy’s, leader Johnny, as a motorbike racing club, it develops into a social place for men to meet and play and look cool and party and fight. More significantly, ‘The Vandals’ club allows the men to gain a sense of authority and identity within the shifting state of America during the 1960’s. The terrific ensemble cast includes Austin Butler as moody Benny, plus his sparky narrator wife, Jodie Comer, as Kathy. All are very good, yet there is something lacking thematically and in terms of plot.

Story-wise The Bikeriders (2023), is more like a verbal and pictorial diary with Comer’s affected Chicago accent gluing the various events together without reaching a height of dramatic satisfaction. Butler and Hardy are really cool and moody, echoing visitations of James Dean and Marlon Brando, respectively. But there needed to be more differentiation in their characters as TWO strong and silent types created a dramatic vacuum for me. Classic scene stealers such as Michael Shannon, Boyd Holbrook and Norman Reedus do add colour and charisma. I kind of wanted more of those guys because they had strong personalities, and actually spoke! Meanwhile, the props, costumes, production design and cinematography are all brilliantly rendered, clothing the film in an authentic and gritty sense of style.

Ultimately, the nostalgic, “anti-hero” driven period drama, so well delivered by Martin Scorsese over the years gets another solid run-out in The Bikeriders (2023) from the talented filmmaker, Jeff Nichols. Whereas Scorsese brings incendiary cinematic fireworks and complex tales of morality to your face, mind and heart, Nichols is a more under-stated director. He presents his stories and characters without too much push, with the audience having to lean in to catch the whispers of drama. That isn’t to say The Bikeriders (2023) doesn’t have action, racing, fighting, crashes, and blood, but the characters are lacking a powerful narrative engine to drive the strong performances forward. Plus, the themes of loss, war, and masculinity in crisis needed more gas. The film motors along just fine, but without ever getting into fifth, let alone sixth gear.

Mark: 7 out of 11