Film Reviews

January 16, 2026

The questions of how far and how long the "28" series can or should go remain unanswered after "28 Years Later: The Bone Temple," which I mention not as a flaw but as an observation. Certainly this dystopian saga, now four movies in, can be taken in any number of directions, and many more characters and situations can be introduced to it, but if it continues to grow, we might question why it wasn't turned into another virus outbreak/zombie apocalypse TV show a la "The Walking Dead" or "The Last of Us," and it spawns too many sequels, it runs the risk of becoming redundant. Suffice it to say, I think in order for the "28" brand to maintain a venerable space of its own, which it does, it needs an endgame, the likes of which still aren't clear, which can be exciting for the audience but a lot of pressure for the filmmakers, who have the burden of crafting a satisfying conclusion, which is no small task. In the meantime, "The Bone Temple" is a worthy installment, a horror drama that adds some new and interesting layers to an already established property.

On heels of "28 Years Later," we catch up with our brave prepubescent hero, Spike (Alfie Williams), whom you'll recall ventured off on his own into the wild, virus-infected U.K., still replete with zombie-like killers, following the death of his mother, whose remains he left in the hands of Dr. Ian Kelson (Ralph Fiennes) and his titular bone temple. At the tail end of the last film, Spike was found by Sir Jimmy Crystal (Jack O'Connell) and his faithful "Fingers" gang, with their blonde wigs and individual "Jimmy" names, such as Jimmy Shite and Jimmy Snake. The Fingers gang introduction was bizarre and comical, not to mention unnerving, especially when we learn what's about to come.

If it wasn't immediately apparent at the end of "28 Years," it's all too evident at the beginning of "The Bone Temple" that Sir Jimmy and company are not protectors but brutal sadists. As a leader, Sir Jimmy claims he's able to divinely communicate with Nick, a.k.a Satan, and that Nick has charged him with growing an army of loyalists and punishing anyone who doesn't kowtow to his every whim. He even has a ritual he calls "charity," during which he or the Fingers choose how dissidents are to be punished. Poor Spike would otherwise be the group's next victim unless he performs and survives an unthinkable hazing act, and the kid's only modicum of hope and safety comes from the sympathy and understanding of Jimmy Ink (Erin Kellyman), who harbors suspicion about their leader's honesty and psychic abilities.

Meanwhile, Dr. Kelson carries on in solitude, adding to his bone fortress (his memorial for the dead) and listening to old vinyl records via his hand-cranked generator. Despite his ghastly appearance (bald; iodine-covered skin [to ward off the virus)] that gives him an orange complexion; blood-stained clothing), Kelson is a sensitive, devoted, and overall calm man who longs for companionship (in his tiny, makeshift bunker, we see pictures of his former life, which presumably included a wife).

When a tall, beastly, infected Alpha (Chi Lewis-Parry) enters Kelson's camp, the good doctor tranquilizes and treats him and proceeds to use his growing knowledge and research to test whether the effects of the virus can be reversed with the right combination of chemicals. For obvious reasons, Kelson calls him Samson, and their scenes together, with Kelson acting as a sort of a father figure to a turned man who's essentially a mute, lend the movie an unexpected heart and humanity. Their playful interactions are simple yet quite lovely, and they remind us that compassion and communication remain at the heart of human nature.

The movie obviously but nevertheless effectively contrasts the gentle, pacifist curiosity of Kelson with the cruel and merciless megalomania of Sir Jimmy. In one of the movie's goriest scenes (horror aficionados get their money's worth), Sir Jimmy instructs his followers to pick their poison against a band of peaceful survivors, one of whom is pregnant (Celi Crossland). But director Nia DaCosta (taking over for Danny Boyle) and editor Jake Roberts are careful not to make "The Bone Temple" into gratuitous and forgettable torture porn. Though many scenes will make you squirm, the overall effect is more nerve-racking than gross, and Alex Garland's screenplay works to develop the characters beyond mere good and evil.

Jack O'Connell deserves a lot of credit for making the movie so intriguing and watchable. He plays Sir Jake as a sick yet charismatic fellow who got a raw deal when he was a kid—remember he was the boy at the beginning of "28 Years Later" whose father welcomed the growling infected into his church and Jake was forced to flee and fend for himself. O'Connell is able to make Jake scary and reprehensible but also strangely likable and sympathetic. We ultimately see him and his disciples as gravely misguided humans, not just killers, which makes their supposed mission and personalities more nuanced and complicated.

Ironically, one of the movie's best scenes is also one of its most tender. In it, Sir Jake and Kelson sit down and have a quiet heart to heart. Despite Sir Jake's harsh and threatening words, he and Kelson establish mutual respect. It says something that Sir Jake can be so menacing yet eloquent, and we appreciate the story for going against our expectations that Kelson will simply be deemed the soulful savior and Sir Jake the soulless adversary.

We also care about the quasi-bodyguard/older sibling relationship that develops between Jimmy Ink and Spike. The freckle-faced Kellyman, who has a natural screen presence, plays Ink as a woman who is resourceful and physical but still partially afraid, while Williams displays a genuine look of terror when he imagines what might happen to him or his friend Kelson. Kellyman and Williams sell us on their characters’ strengths, resilience, timidity, and growing bond.

Initially, "The Bone Temple" seems like it might simply serve as a bridge to a more consequential, and presumably final, installment of the "28" series. Indeed, for the first quarter of its runtime, we're wondering if we're merely tagging along with Sir Jake and his cronies, and in parallel observing Kelson and Samson, for no purposeful or interesting reason. But then the deeper side of Garland's screenplay begins to take shape and the actors make the characters their own, and we eventually find ourselves getting caught up in this specific story, which, to be sure, abides by familiar rules but adds to the overarching, relevant theme of all the "28" movies, which is that a pandemic can spur both the most noble and deleterious sides of human nature. "The Bone Temple" becomes a weird concoction of horror, tension, emotion, and absolution, and it holds its own as an entertaining genre picture.

With that said, the ending of "The Bone Temple" does lead us to believe there will be at least one more "28" movie. Fortunately, it also makes us confident that if the same filmmakers are attached to it, specifically Garland, whose screenplays form the intelligent and emotional backbone of the series, the franchise as a whole can end on a high note.