Danny Boyle Reunites with the Gruesomely Captivating World of '28 Days Later' in '28 Years Later'

Danny Boyle makes a return to the haunting landscape of post-apocalyptic Britain, a world vividly painted in his renowned 2002 film, “28 Days Later.” Here, a gripping tale of a father and son fleeing the infected unfolds, soon joined by the mother. Taking a hiatus from hopping across genres—from the cosmic to Mumbai’s vibrant chaos—Boyle reimmaries himself in a gruesomely intoxicating narrative with “28 Years Later.” Flesh-devouring creatures act with abandon, threatening all life in their path, as humanity strives to shelter itself in isolation, giving this familiar dystopia a chillingly plausible edge. Balancing hope and despair, the film is a quintessentially updated coming-of-age saga set against a backdrop of a world gone mad.

On a lush British isle, a mishmash of adults and children fight to preserve the scant shreds of civilization. Safeguarded within their enclave, they mimic ancient village life, relying on precious resources while forging intimate bonds shrouded in darkness. Ominous threats lurk, and sinister mysteries abound, like a masked figure chillingly reminiscent of Edvard Munch’s “The Scream.” This third installment follows “28 Days Later” (2002), a profound allegory helmed by Boyle where civilization teeters on the brink of extinction. (The subsequent chapter, “28 Weeks Later,” was crafted by Juan Carlos Fresnadillo in 2007.) It all began with well-meaning activists unleashing lab chimps tainted with a virus named rage. Despite the warnings, disaster follows as a chimp launches a bloody attack on its would-be liberator. As the latest addition, “28 Days Later” shared its roots with zombie lore, masterminded by Alex Garland, who also joined forces with Boyle on “The Beach” and the dystopian thriller “Sunshine.”

In candid discussions, Boyle illustrates the pragmatic origins of “28 Days Later,” juxtaposing real threats like the Ebola virus against fictional dooms in “The Omega Man,” a thriller set post-germ warfare. Yet, he resisted genre classification, asserting, “It’s not a film about monsters—it’s about us,” emphasizing the reflection of humanity in its creations. Whether labeled zombies or not, the infected in “28 Days Later” echo the indiscriminate killing frenzy unleashed by George A. Romero’s “Night of the Living Dead” (1968). One notable evolution is their terrifying speed, a feature popularized alongside Zack Snyder’s “Dawn of the Dead” remake in 2004. Boyle’s creatures, unlike Romero’s slow lurchers, introduced an exhilarating dynamism that mirrors the escalating pace of modern life—a characteristic fully explored in “28 Years Later,” which kicks off with grim news flashes and a nerve-wracking house scene mirroring its predecessor.

The eerie sequence sees paralyzed children glued to their screens, with “Teletubbies” cheerfully playing as menacing sounds outside crescendo to a deafening roar. The editing flares into a frantic montage, fusing tots, monster chaos, and absurdity in a breathtaking introduction marking Boyle’s expressive style. Partially shot using iPhones, “28 Years Later” embraces a gritty aesthetic that enriches its chaotic violence and diminishes realism’s barriers in quieter moments. There’s an inherent unease even on the island where 12-year-old Spike (played brilliantly by Alfie Williams) shares life with his mother Isla (Jodie Comer) and father Jamie (Aaron Taylor-Johnson). Despite a picture of idyllic parenting, Isla’s mysterious bouts plunge her into fugue states akin to the infected.

Dividing its narrative, the film shadows Spike’s parallel journeys on the mainland, first exploring father-son dynamics during a perilous hunt. They travel over a temporary pathway at low tide—a tense rite of passage as Boyle skillfully ratchets the suspense, partly due to their rudimentary weapons. Shunning firearms, the islanders opt for handcrafted arrows, upholding their epic struggle’s romanticism, as Boyle taps into historical and sentimental layers with references to Kipling’s “Boots” or Olivier’s “Henry V,” weaving tension into the storyline. By the time Spike embarks on another escapade with Isla, the narrative terrain is soaked in blood, confronting them with savage and tranquil shocks. Figures like giant Samson (Chi Lewis-Parry) and Ralph Fiennes’ phantom-like presence punctuate the narrative with symbolic weight. Spike, navigating this tumultuous path, stands at the crossroads of innocence versus cunning, humane values against brutality, hinting at a future transitional journey in at least one marked sequel.