10/12 ForReel Score | 4/5 Stars

What is the most important element of making a horror movie truly effective in every sense of the word? This is an age old question that has been pondered by critics, industry members, and audiences alike. Some might argue that the sense of claustrophobia and tension that fills every second of these films is the most effective element, while others might argue that it is nightmarish creature design or graphic violence that sell the intense tone and atmosphere that horror filmmakers look to achieve. While all of these elements are truly pivotal in creating an unrelenting horror experience, I’d be willing to wager that the most important element that truly makes a horror movie work on a subconscious level is how it captures a sense of humanity amid all of the nightmarish imagery and scares along the way. These films are crafted to immerse audiences into a terrifying world, yet the impact would not remain the same if the characters and setting did not feel vulnerable or authentic.

This is understandably a difficult element to achieve, and as a result, many horror films might stick a landing in how terrifying they are, but never manage to cut deep enough to truly impact the audience on an emotional level. However, every so often, a horror film arises that truly understands how to juggle this perfect balance between emotional nuance and macabre subject matter, and 28 Years Later is one of those films. This is the rare horror film that focuses not only on the visceral bloodshed on screen, but the quiet and contemplative echo that remains after a person moves on.

28 Years Later is the long awaited follow up to both Danny Boyle’s 2002 film 28 Days Later and Juan Carlos Fresnadillo’s 2007 sequel 28 Weeks Later, and once again sees Boyle returning to the director’s chair with full flourish. The films picks up 28 years after the Rage Virus took the UK by storm, and follows Jamie (played by Aaron Taylor-Johnson), a hunter who lives with his son Spike (Alfie Williams) and wife Isla (Jodie Comer) on an island separated from the mainland - a safe haven for survivors of the Rage Virus, which still ravages and turns the mainland and its inhabitants into nightmarish creatures. Deciding that Spike is of the age to learn how to hunt and survive for himself, Jamie takes the young boy on an excursion to the mainland, which unveils a world that remains strangely familiar yet also vastly more violent and deadly than our own, with the terrifying inhabitants soon making their presence known. This puts Jamie and Spike into a situation where they have to learn more about the environment around them (and about themselves) in order to make it out alive.

After a surprisingly brutal and effective cold open, the film wastes no time in establishing the centralized story and characters, moving the plot along at a tight clip. Not a second of this runtime feels unnecessary; rather, each unflinching moment is integral to the emotional core of this story. The film also wastes no time in immersing audiences into the bleak and menacing atmosphere of such a world either. As we watch young Spike and his father walk across the island’s causeway to the mainland, a recording of Rudyard Kipling’s 1903 poem “Boots” echoes around the theater, which is used in the US Navy’s SERE training as a way to simulate psychological pressure and captivity, making its use here all the more appropriate. With each feverish pitch of the poem, as its methodical rhythm and pacing pound each word into the minds of audiences, the characters take one step closer to the nightmare that awaits them on the other side, stepping quite literally into the heart of darkness. And what awaits them is truly terrifying.

Much as he did with 2002’s entry, Danny Boyle (paired once again with writer Alex Garland) continues to reinvent the tropes of the horror genre in a way that feels fresh and authentic to his specific vision. Using a combination of footage shot on drones, iPhone cameras, and other readily available consumer products, the film takes on a visual style that feels careful and controlled when it needs to be, but also large and abrasive when the film requires it. One particular instance of this occurs within the shots in which the infected befall fates at the end of projectiles or arrows, where Boyle places the infected subject in the center of a twenty camera IPhone rig and captures each unflinching angle of the bloodshed in a full 180° field of view, flipping between angles with quick editing techniques to make the subject seem suspended in motion, which heightens the sense of realism and the impact of these moments with full force and intensity.

However, the greatest ingredient working in favor of 28 Years Later is how the main focus within the film isn’t entirely on the bloodshed caused at the hands of the infected. In this way, fans of the original film and audiences who were intrigued by the marketing leading up to the film’s release might walk away disappointed, as many are surely expecting a film like 28 Years Later to contain widespread and thrilling violence for the entirety of its runtime. And while this is true within the first act of the film, which uses this approach to great effect, the second act of the film takes on a more somber and reflective tone. This shift within the narrative might be jarring to some fans expecting unrelenting intensity for the entire runtime, but it's within this portion of the film that the true strengths of 28 Years Later shine through.

In addition to the unrelenting pursuit and chaos of the infected, the film goes one step further into the characterization of these creatures by highlighting their humanity, which goes hand in hand with the powerful emotional current of the film. Here, Boyle makes the infected seem less like “zombie” creatures with a mindless taste for human flesh and more like victims that have befallen an unfathomable fate and are suffering themselves. As the Rage Virus takes over these unfortunate souls, we see their pain and anguish as they suffer the side effects of the illness, complete with moments scattered throughout in which we see their humanity shine through, such as when Jodie Comer’s Isla has a particularly impactful interaction with one of the infected in the film’s second act. The background noise of the film is also overlaid with the cries of anguish from the infected that echo throughout the empty countryside, which culminate in a chorus of somber reflection that cuts both a strangely uncomfortable yet deeply saddening chord within audiences. What makes the infected within this film truly disturbing and terrifying is that we see the intrinsic person underneath the snarling visages and bloodshot eyes, and see them suffering in every unflinching moment of the film, which makes their portrayal here effective and impactful.

Yet, within the second act of the film is also where the main emotional nuance is found in spades, which is the complex and resonant discussion and exploration into how death affects us on a subconscious level, and about the memory and impact that such a loss can leave behind. With the introduction of the character Dr. Kelson (played brilliantly by Ralph Fiennes), audiences are introduced to a portion of the movie that remains vastly different from the first act yet fits perfectly into the overall arc that the story tries to achieve. The film evolves into a breathtaking and staggering look at how illness is a form of death itself - slowly taking away pieces of the person we love, little by little, until there is nothing left. Through this specific thematic lens, the infected take on a different look as well, as we see the people who loved and were once loved as they succumb to their unknown fates. With such a strong thematic sense of closure, you would then expect the film to end on a resulting high note, which is why it feels so jarring and shocking when the film ultimately finishes with nothing substantial or notable to leave audiences with. Instead of wrapping up every loose piece of narrative ribbon into a gorgeous bow that audiences can take with them, Boyle and his team want to set up the next installment within the series, which results in an ending sequence that not only feels over the top, but also abrupt.

As I walked out of 28 Years Later, I found myself pondering a film that remains staunchly independent of the very genre it wants to be a part of while also holding familiar genre tropes and plot devices within its runtime with ease. As a post-apocalyptic horror film, it works as a thrilling, gory, and grossly engaging movie with sequences of bloodshed and violence that will satiate even the most diehard fans within the genre. Yet, 28 Years Later is also a film of uncompromising beauty. How a film this graphic and horrifying can be simultaneously one of the most gorgeous films of the year from a visual standpoint is a stark form of juxtaposition. Yet beyond just the visual style, it also remains a beautiful look into grief and how death affects the people closest to us on a fundamental level. In this way, 28 Years Later is a film that will check all the boxes for horror fans looking for an engaging and cutthroat motion picture, yet it might also leave them with some truly poignant and affecting themes and ideas to chew on long after they’ve finished watching.

Movie Review: “28 Years Later” - A Relentless And Reflective Horror Experience