Zombies, iPhones, and Ralph Fiennes—Oh My! 28 Years Later Review.

A group of survivors of the rage virus live on a small island. When one of the group leaves the island on a mission into the mainland, he discovers secrets, wonders, and horrors that have mutated not only the infected but other survivors.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mcvLKldPM08

You know you're in for a ride when a zombie movie starts with a 1915 audio recording of Rudyard Kipling reciting Boots. I hadn’t even opened my M&M's before I was spiritually marched into madness by a disembodied Edwardian war poet. That’s right, Kipling. Because nothing screams post-apocalyptic horror quite like British colonial poetry and the sound quality of a WWI trench radio. Welcome to 28 Years Later, folks, where the undead don’t just shamble - they monologue.

Now, the movie starts strong. We're plopped onto a desolate island connected to the mainland by one of those “yeah, this won’t end well” causeways that horror films love like Hollywood loves a good reboot. A group of survivors, apparently living off kelp, canned beans, and unresolved trauma, are managing to get by. Enter Aaron Taylor-Johnson’s character, who decides that staying put on a disease-free island during a zombie apocalypse is just too easy - so he heads out into the mainland like it’s an episode of The Amazing Race: Plague Edition.

He’s on a mission, and I won’t spoil the why, but it’s probably guilt, daddy issues, or the British equivalent of going out for smokes and never coming back.

Now, don’t get me wrong - this isn’t your run-of-the-mill brain buffet. No, no. Director Danny Boyle decided to go full arthouse meets Armageddon here. There are genuine moments of tension, especially between the father and son characters. Watching their relationship evolve amid blood-soaked madness gives the film some emotional marrow. And Ralph Fiennes? The man could read IKEA instructions and still win a BAFTA. He adds gravitas to every frame he graces - stoic, sharp, and unflinching, like a Shakespearean warlord dropped into a George Romero fever dream.

There are also clever nods to the previous films, which longtime fans (read: masochists like me) will appreciate. The Rage Virus hasn’t mellowed with age - it’s faster, nastier, and now apparently includes nudity. Yep. Zombie nudity. I mean, I know the dead have no shame, but who asked for decaying full frontals? Somewhere, George A. Romero just facepalmed in his grave.

As for the visuals, here’s where things go from 28 Years Later to 28 Jump Cuts Per Minute. The first half of the movie is peppered with archival footage of medieval archers - because why not splice in a Renaissance Fair mid-pandemic? I half expected someone to shout, “Lo! The infected cometh!” There’s also a jittery, handheld camera aesthetic that tries to sell raw chaos, but often feels like your uncle trying to film a family BBQ on rollerblades. Seriously - buy a gimbal, guys. You’ve got an iPhone 15 Pro Max and enough budget to light Ralph Fiennes properly. Stabilize the apocalypse.

Speaking of that iPhone - yep, the whole film was shot on it. It’s the biggest flex since Spielberg shot War Horse on a GoPro strapped to an actual horse. Look, the footage does look surprisingly good, but once you know it’s a smartphone production, you’ll catch yourself wondering if the next zombie is going to jump out - or just ask if you’ve seen their TikTok.

Now, let’s talk about the ending. You remember how 28 Days Later ended with a hopeful shot of survival, and 28 Weeks Later gave us that eerie tease of a global spread? Well, 28 Years Later ends like a Netflix series that just found out it got cancelled mid-shoot. New characters suddenly show up like they got lost on the way to the first act, and the climax - if you can call it that - just... happens. We’re left with a cliffhanger that feels more like someone tripped over a sandbag on set and yelled “cut.”

It’s not bad, just... frustrating. Like eating half a chocolate bar and realizing the rest was hollow. There’s so much setup and potential for further entries, but they forgot that we still need a satisfying arc in this one. You can tease a sequel without forgetting to land your current plane.

Bonus fun: the internet caught a glimpse of a gaunt zombie in the trailer that looked suspiciously like Cillian Murphy, which lit the fandom ablaze like a molotov at an anti-vaxxer rally. Turns out, it was just a very committed art dealer named Angus Neill. Boyle even admitted he ignored his girlfriend when she warned him, which, let’s be honest, is the most relatable moment of the production. “Don’t be silly,” he said. Cut to humble pie, served cold and with a side of social media roasting.

Overall? 28 Years Later is worth the watch. It's ambitious, visually creative, and expands the mythos in a way that hints at big things to come. It’s not without its flaws - some camera-induced nausea, poetic pretension, and a plot that slips on its own infected shoelaces near the end - but it’s the kind of movie that makes you glad filmmakers are still swinging for the fences in the zombie genre. Even if they occasionally whiff it into the cheap seats.

Final Verdict: 7.0/10.

Watch it with the lights off, the volume up, and a barf bag handy - just in case those camera shakes get to you before the undead do.