There is something very unsettling about returning to a world that was never meant to feel familiar. Back in 2002, when 28 Days Later premiered, it felt raw yet disturbing. Now, over two decades later, 28 Years Later: The Bone Temple revisits the same infected environment but with a different question in mind: what happens when this shocking survival becomes routine?
Set in a quarantined Britain long after the initial outbreak, this movie follows Spike (Alfie Williams), a young boy raised in a bubble of safety but forced to confront the world outside of it. His encounter with Jimmy Crystal (Jack O’Connell) becomes a nightmare he can’t escape. Meanwhile, Dr. Kelson (Ralph Fiennes) makes a discovery that could change the world as they know it.
This story is not one of spectacle but rather a creeping discomfort that unfolds slowly, adding onto the adrenaline and goosebumps. While the infected remain terrifying, the storyline captures more than just their unsettling presence.
Survival stops feeling shocking
What stayed with me most is how surviving in a grossly violent environment becomes seemingly normal. The moral compromise, suspicion, and violence are presented as daily survival, and the film lets these moments slowly unfold, which gave me the chills.
Some of the most unsettling scenes are not the loudest or most graphic, but the silent ones where cruelty feels almost reasonable. As a viewer, you’re left to sit with such unease, not because the world has ended, but because everyone has learned how to live inside it.
Small moments of humanity
Despite the vividly violent and gruesome scenes, the brief moments of tenderness provide a quiet relief to viewers. Moments involving a former doctor studying an infected subject, Samson, are strangely gentle, almost absurd in their humanity, seeming inherently contradictory to the storyline. This suggests stubborn moments of care exist even in a world defined largely by rage.
Uneven ambition
The movie, however, does struggle occasionally with a balance in tone. The rapid shifts between reflective and relentless make parts of it seem emotionally disjoint. While its ambition is clear, the ideas don’t all land with the same clarity, leaving the experience a little more fractured than entirely immersive and ideas sometimes underdeveloped.
Thoughtful middle ground
In the end, The Bone Temple sits in a middle ground. It doesn’t reach the impact of its prequels, but it doesn’t rely solely on nostalgia either. It asks some interesting questions, even if it doesn’t always explore them deeply enough. As a result, it feels like a film worth engaging with, just not one that will stick with you.
The Bone Temple reminds me that the most unsettling aspect of apocalyptic narratives isn’t the end of civilisation itself, but how quickly humans learn to live within its ruins, making it an intriguing one-time watch.
by Rhea Jain
