28 Years Later: The Bone Temple is the third film in the unexpected franchise series that began with 28 Days Later in 2002. While quite different than either of the Danny Boyle directed instalments, The Bone Temple is the most daring and interesting expansion of the modern day horror saga. One that finally dares to move past the aging zombie film tropes in a way that reframes each previous film in new horrific light.
It has two major issues to its name. The first is its place as the middle chapter of a hastily constructed trilogy. The third film remains unwritten, but will most likely arrive in a few years. The first one worked as a sort of re-pilot for the franchise. It introduced a host of new characters and settings, but left them dangling by the end of what felt like an extended prologue.
The Bone Temple has no real beginning nor an end. It picks up immediately where the first film concluded and stops with a teaser that it doesn't need. In between is a story that stands on its own and doesn't need the connective tissue to a larger mythology. It exists in its own realm even as it reshapes our understanding of everything else.
The second issue is more subjective: The Bone Temple has too many jump scares. One or two are fine and almost expected, anything beyond that is lazy. They're the easiest way to get attention, but they feel cheap compared to the genuine sense of dread and outright horror director Nia DaCosta weaves elsewhere in the film.
Written by Alex Garland, The Bone Temple opens with an unsettling sequence that sets the tone for what's to come. Spike (Alfie Williams) has fallen in with The Jimmies, a murderous gang led by Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal (Jack O'Connell), who model themselves on the image of Jimmy Saville, a once-beloved host of British television revealed years later as a monster. To prove himself, Spike must kill another Jimmy.
That's because Jimmy Crystal believes himself the son of the devil and that his righteous mission in life is to rid the land of the unbelievers. His gang roams the desolate country in search of new victims, whom they flail alive in increasingly horrific ways to please Old Nick. Forced to follow, Spike finds himself in a far worse situation than the one he escaped from in the previous film.
Meanwhile, Dr. Ian Kelson (Ralph Fiennes) continues his daily grind of memorializing the dead while searching for more knowledge about the rage virus that destroyed Britain. His relationship with Samson (Chi Lewis-Parry), the gargantuan Alpha roaming the territory, grows deeper by the day and shapes the majority of The Bone Temple's unexpected story.
Garland is a divisive writer with big ideas. His scripts have a habit of tripping over themselves in their haste to make a point. Not so here. The Bone Temple is the most efficiently brutal and poignant story he has written to date. Instead of a sprawling narrative with frustratingly vague politics, the second part of 28 Years Later delivers a satisfying expansion to the themes of its predecessor.
If 28 Years Later was about Britain turning inward to its warring history as a perpetually sieged island nation, The Bone Temple is about how we regress as a society to a cultural comfort zone when faced with uncertainty. The Jimmies seek solace in children's television and pop-culture father figures, while Kelson dances with ghosts to the tune of rock music of the past.
In the series, the rage virus destroyed Britain well before Saville was outed for his crimes. Jimmy Crystal exists as a perversion of what he remembers; the track suits and a corny declaration of "howzat," which he repeats with religious fervor. The insinuation isn't subtle: Monsters recognize monsters.
In one of the finest scenes of the film, the two forces sit down to discuss what they remember of the past. Turns out it's nothing more than a feeling that everything somehow made sense. Without it, there's no purpose to even pretend like there are rules.
Garland's fierce script comes to life in DaCosta's hands as an unending nightmare where brutality is so commonplace it feels like second nature. She's one of the finest directors working today, and you need only to look at the subtle ways she teases fear out of her set pieces to understand why. There is no need to for big theatrics or opulent camera moves when you're this talented.
While the terrific Alfie Williams remains our protagonist, there's no question The Bone Temple is Ralph Fiennes' film. Kelson features prominently throughout the story, despite remaining an enigma whose past is mostly alluded through hazy memories and wistful dreams that probably never happened. His oddball friendship with Samson comes from desperation and genuine kindness, and Fiennes plays the part with tremendous sincerity. He makes us believe in goodness existing even in this hellscape world.
As The Bone Temple barrels towards the inevitable climax, DaCosta builds up one of the most fascinating and intellectually satisfying finales in horror history. It strikes the same ground as George A. Romero's Living Dead trilogy, where each separate film spoke of a different societal ailment. Together, DaCosta and Garland weave a complex tapestry of modern idolatry and the geography of fear required to sustain faith in our built institutions. The result is breathtaking.
I enjoyed 28 Years Later with some reservations. It was far better than a sequel this late to a film that didn't require one should be, and that alone is a victory. But I love The Bone Temple. It is a triumphant continuation of the saga and one a superlative horror film of its own. It will haunt me for years to come and I welcome every minute of it.
