28 Years Later: The Bone Temple

Nia DaCosta Brings Moral Weight and Visual Restraint to the Zombie Franchise

Many unplanned trilogies fizzle out by their third entry, as the unexpected success of a first film forces sequels into existence, often resulting in an incongruous and artificial trilogy arc. We’ve seen this occur with Star Wars, Creed, and Unbreakable, but that doesn’t seem to be the case with the recently rebooted 28 Days franchise. Just last summer, 28 Years Later (2025) revitalized the series, and its sequel was filmed immediately afterward, once again written by Alex Garland. The result is 28 Years Later: The Bone Temple (2026), which fits snugly into the narrative, developing arcs and threads introduced in the previous film.

28 Years Later: The Bone Temple continues to follow the young character Spike (Alfie Williams). He has fallen in with a group of sadistic, satanist kids who follow their cruel, cult-like leader Jimmy (Jack O’Connell) like a perverted version of Peter Pan and the Lost Boys. Forced to assimilate or face a gnarly death, Spike embeds himself within the group and witnesses the brutality that the so-called Jimmies inflict on other survivors. Running parallel is the story of Dr. Kelson (Ralph Fiennes), the affable survivor who seeks out bodies to bury with dignity while continuing to build his eponymous bone temple. Kelson also begins experimenting with the alpha zombie Samson (Chi Lewis-Parry), attempting to calm him and communicate with whatever shred of humanity may still remain.

While Danny Boyle returned to the franchise with 28 Years Later, Nia DaCosta takes the reins this time around. She delivers a different, and ultimately more refreshing, style than Boyle, working from a stronger script that allows her to explore themes of evil, death, and community. While many zombie films orbit these ideas, Garland’s screenplay avoids familiar clichés, instead offering moments that are genuinely ponderous and even tender, particularly in its reflections on human connection and purpose.

This differentiation from genre convention is largely due to how violence and death are depicted on screen. Boyle has never been a director given to gratuitous violence, but DaCosta’s approach is even more unsettling. Her staging of brutality never fails to elicit a visceral reaction; the violence feels merciless in a way that makes the audience acutely aware of mortality. The film opens with an initiation ceremony carried out by the Jimmies, in which a character is stabbed in the femoral artery. We watch in real time as he bleeds out while others look on. The scene is never played for shock value or entertainment, but to underscore the sheer cruelty and horror humans are capable of inflicting on one another.

Yet DaCosta resists painting her characters in binaries. Samson is a monstrous zombie who rips heads clean from shoulders, spinal cords dangling in their wake, yet the film gradually invites empathy, and even curiosity, toward his “awakening” through Dr. Kelson’s charity and kindness. Kelson was the standout of 28 Years Later, and I was glad to see him given a more prominent role here. Fiennes is spectacular in a part that could have easily been played smaller or more rote. Instead, he gives himself fully over to the character, becoming a warm and comforting presence within an otherwise desolate world. Kelson finds joy in small rituals, approaches death with reverence, and remains stubbornly hopeful. He effectively becomes the film’s second protagonist, counterbalancing the darkness embodied by the other characters.

The Bone Temple is far more philosophical a horror film than it has any right to be, though it falters somewhat in its finale. The film sets itself up for a deeper interrogation of the origins and meaning of the zombie plague alongside its moral questions, yet Garland’s execution and certain character decisions feel lacking. At times, the ending plays like a cop-out; an attempt to avoid tying things up too neatly in order to leave room for a third installment. While the film largely succeeds starting as a self-contained story, it ultimately proves too timid in resolving its arcs with real decisiveness.

DaCosta has effectively rescued her directing career from entering a dangerous lull after The Marvels (2023), the biggest-ever Marvel flop. She rebounded quickly with an invigorating adaptation of “Hedda Gabler” in Hedda (2025) and now delivers her strongest work yet with The Bone Temple. The Brooklyn-born director brings a visual patience that contrasts sharply with Boyle’s restlessness. She is more interested in environments, spatial relationships, and the interplay of light and distance, culminating in stunning imagery during the finale – particularly the use of fire amid stark white columns of skulls. One hopes DaCosta continues to prove that her talent should not be constrained by a single misstep within the Marvel machine.

Jack O’Connell has increasingly become a go-to actor for vividly cruel villains, following his vampire turn in Sinners (2025). His satanic Jimmy is a man defined by savagery and spectacle, yet O’Connell avoids reducing him to caricature. Instead, Jimmy is portrayed as someone driven by insecurity and a desperate need for power and performance, terrified of being exposed as a fraud. This layered approach complicates what could have been a simplistic moral dichotomy. As mentioned, Fiennes is extraordinary and delivers a performance that feels genuinely awards-worthy, radiating charisma and gentleness in every scene. Lewis-Parry is also striking as Samson, particularly as Kelson’s tranquilizing darts begin to coax out traces of humanity beneath the undead exterior. Sadly, Williams, so compelling in the previous film, is largely sidelined here, marking one of the film’s few inconsistencies with its predecessor.

In the end, 28 Years Later: The Bone Temple is the strongest entry in the franchise since 28 Days Later (2002). It approaches the apocalypse, human morality, and death with a more contemplative lens than expected, bolstered by strong performances and a refreshing directorial vision. While imperfect, it stands as a powerful and confident way to open the cinematic year of 2026.

7.6/10