One of my favorite Woody Allen lines is from Annie Hall: “A relationship is like a shark — it has to keep moving forward, or it dies.” What does this have to do with Alex Garland’s latest entry in the 28 Days/Weeks/Years franchise, The Bone Temple? I think the analogy applies just as forcefully to art. Films (and music) that stop evolving grow stale and die. It’s precisely under that conviction that Garland, who clearly still has stories left to tell in his perilous post-apocalyptic world, has crafted a sequel so radically unconventional and so deliberately removed from the genre’s (and his original 28 Days Later‘s) familiar rhythms that it continues to feel fresh and unpredictable — a rare feat for a fourth installment.
Picking up exactly where 28 Years Later left off, The Bone Temple follows the adolescent Spike (Alfie Williams) into harrowing new territory. Having lost his mother and abandoned both his home and his perfidious father, Spike falls in with “The Fingers,” a band of miscreants led by the charismatic Sir Jimmy Crystal, portrayed with menacing zeal by Jack O’Connell.
Crystal’s wanton disposition imbues the film with a streak of dark comedy that counterpoints its otherwise grim tone. Through such macabre scenes as Crystal directing his docile followers to pillage survivors and flay entire families, Garland poses the ultimate post-apocalyptic question: Is there anything worse than mindless, rage-infected zombies? It turns out there is: Sadistic satanists acting on their own volition.
Among the film’s triumphs is Spike’s arc as he navigates this brave new world, striving to retain his humanity in a callous landscape he has unwittingly stumbled into. His journey is reminiscent of the boy in Cormac McCarthy’s The Road, though Spike is guided only by the flickering memories of childhood values and the unshakeable certainty of his late mother’s love.
Another such impenetrable stoic is Dr. Kelson, whose portrayal by Ralph Fiennes alone is worth the price of admission. Kelson, who played only a cursory role in the previous film, is afforded a parallel arc here, and we gain more insight into his private life and peculiar interests, including a surviving record player and an LP collection suffused with classic rock staples. But beyond his affinity for David Bowie or Iron Maiden, Kelson’s driving motivation is to understand the “Rage Virus” that has plagued the United Kingdom since 2002’s 28 Days Later. As an aside, I have always appreciated Garland’s particular cynicism in imagining the apocalypse being brought about by the unrestrained antics of cloying animal rights activists.
Equally prominent is Garland’s insistence that, regardless of time or place, life remains sacred, capable of immense beauty and unimaginable terror. Having witnessed what was previously believed impossible — the birth of a healthy, thriving child from an infected mother — Dr. Kelson is imbued with a newfound hope for humanity’s salvation. The miracle fuels his determination to better understand the virus: what drives the infected, and whether, beneath the demonic frenzy, some semblance of humanity remains intact, a possibility the child’s existence strongly suggests.
His scientific endeavour is comically manifested in the relationship he develops with Samson (Chi Lewis-Parry), an infected alpha, a physically colossal leader in the horde’s hierarchy who tears heads clean off and feasts on brains like coconuts served at tropical resorts. After repeatedly sedating Samson to study him, Kelson inadvertently gets him addicted to morphine, creating a bizarre pharmaceutical (but oddly amicable) bond between man and monster that becomes the emotional core of The Bone Temple.
THE HOUSEMAID ASKS: WHY IS THE WOMAN ALWAYS THE CRAZY ONE?
That an ostensible zombie horror film possesses such a core at all is a testament to the narrative discipline of Nia DaCosta. There was some apprehension about her taking the reins from director Danny Boyle, especially since DaCosta’s work on Candyman (2021) and, even worse, The Marvels (2023) left much to be desired. But even if Boyle’s signature flourishes are missed (some critics found them indulgent; I enjoyed them), DaCosta has crafted a far more cohesive and connected story, likely salvaging her career in the process.
Garland’s 28 Days series, if not the inventor, was surely the popularizer of the “fast zombie,” ushering in a wave of influence that permanently dispelled the lethargic ghouls of the past. The Bone Temple similarly jettisons predictable tropes. It may not be to everyone’s taste, but if nothing else, it is never dull, and it moves the genre forward once again.
Harry Khachatrian (@Harry1T6) is a film critic for the Washington Examiner‘s Beltway Confidential blog. He is a software engineer, holds a master’s degree from the University of Toronto, and writes about wine at BetweenBottles.com.
