Nia DaCosta is on a roll. Following her buzzy, independently produced adaptation of Hedda, DaCosta is finally given the big canvas creative platform she deserves in 28 Years Later: The Bone Temple. After a turbulent experience helming The Marvels within the Marvel machine, DaCosta returns to horror after the critical/commercial hit Candyman, this time delivering a grittier, more personal continuation of the 28 Years Later franchise.
Where the previous entry in the franchise leaned into a coming-of-age sensibility set against the backdrop of a plague-ravaged island, The Bone Temple widens the lens considerably. We move to the mainland, uncovering what the world has become in the decades since the rage virus first tore through civilization. The expanded scope doesn’t dilute the tension — if anything, it intensifies it, grounding the horror in a world that feels fully lived-in and devastatingly real.
The first hour of the film is an absolute masterclass in sustained dread. DaCosta delivers some of the scariest sequences put to screen in years, and crucially, not all of that fear comes from the infected. A barn scene introducing the “Jimmies” – a roving band of violent, unpredictable, track suit-wearing young vandals ala Kubrick’s A Clockwork Orange – ranks among the most disturbing things the franchise has ever produced. It’s a sharp reminder that in dystopia, the human monsters are often the ones to fear most.
Jimmy (Jack O’Connell) leads the Jimmies with terrifying conviction, channeling the unhinged menace O’Connell has demonstrated since his early breakout on Skins UK. But the film spends a surprising amount of time dissecting the raw vulnerability that drives his character towards pure villainy. That should come as no shock to fans of writer Alex Garland, who always wrestles with understanding the unique shades of evil that color his worlds and characters.
But the film’s true emotional anchor is Ralph Fiennes, whose performance as Dr. Ian seriously warrants awards consideration. Fiennes commands the film, bringing flamboyant theatrics to the film’s more surreal moments while leaving room for deep introspection in its quieter ones. Whether it’s demonic dancing to Iron Maiden’s The Number of the Beast or calmly discussing dogma with cult leaders, he brings eccentricism, depth, and gravitas to each scene.
Chi Lewis-Parry, who portrays the zombie king Samson, navigates a remarkable emotional journey as he regains control of his humanity. The filmmakers even grant Samson a number of perspective shots and flashbacks, forcing audiences to confront the human beings inside the infected mind. It’s an unexpected touch in a genre that rarely asks us to mourn its monsters.
Erin Kellyman is the standout as Jimmy Ink, a fearless, free-thinking devotee to her cult and cause. Alfie Williams returns as Spike, this time undercover, trying to escape the tragedy that continues to follow him. Williams proves to be a worthy reboot lead, holding his own alongside seasoned veterans. DaCosta’s signature ability to draw this level of work from her ensemble is precisely what makes her one of the greats.
What makes The Bone Temple genuinely surprising, however, is its thematic ambition. The film threads a quiet theological dialogue through its horror framework, engaging seriously with ideas of faith, death, and rebirth. Ian Kelson declares himself an atheist, yet embodies more faith in humanity than almost any other character on screen. Versus Jimmy, who claims to be a descendant of Satan himself, yields no faith or devotion to anything more than himself.
DaCosta’s direction throughout is, as RB3 puts it, almost invisible. Exercising restraint, confidence, and substance, DaCosta’s style is presented entirely in service of story and performance. Nia knows that the scares aren’t in style; the horror lives in Alex Garland’s air-tight script and in the terrific performances by the cast.
As a franchise play, The Bone Temple ends with a setup for a third installment that leaves audiences hungry for more. As a standalone film, it is visceral, thematically rich, and superbly performed. As a statement of intent from one of cinema’s most exciting directors, it is unmissable. In real time, we are seeing a director getting better and better with each movie, growing more confident and daring by the minute. As a result, 28 Years Later: The Bone Temple is a terrifying and surprisingly moving piece of genre filmmaking that might honestly be the best in the decades-long series.
