Danny Boyle’s 28 Years Later elevates the franchise with a haunting blend of raw horror, superb performances, and unsettling new threats that redefine the infected apocalypse, writes WILLIAM BOVE
TITLE: 28 Years Later
RELEASED: 19 June 2025
DIRECTOR: Danny Boyle
CAST: Jodie Comer, Aaron Taylor-Johnson, Jack O’Connell, Alfie Williams, Ralph Fiennes
Review of 28 Years Later 2025
The film 28 Years Later, the third in the series, was produced and directed by Danny Boyle. Columbia Pictures, together with Sony Pictures, released it on 19 June 2025. The fever could no longer be contained, and audiences in both the UK and the US savoured every minute of its burning-blood insanity. Like its siblings before it, this movie simply could not be contained.
Principal photography began on 7 May 2024, initially centred entirely in one location: Northumberland. An iPhone 15 Pro Max, combined with action cameras, drones, and other devices, laid the foundation for the film’s early visuals. Filming then expanded across Northern England, spanning the North East, Yorkshire, and Humber regions. Some of the key locations included Lindisfarne, Hexham, Bellingham, Kielder Forest, Rothbury, and several other sites.
The cast includes Jodie Comer (Isla, Spike’s mother), Aaron Taylor-Johnson (Spike’s father), Alfie Williams (Spike), Ralph Fiennes (Dr Kelson), Rocco Haynes (Young Jimmy), and Kim Allan (Jimmy’s mother). These actors and their characters do a remarkable job of setting the tone, establishing the themes, keeping the mood fresh, and invoking memorable, lasting symbolism. For actors to generate and sustain such momentum—to create the film’s soul at every step—is a rare gift. Moreover, to surprise us with performances that are simultaneously subtle, commanding, and utterly engrossing is a talent shared by few.
There is nothing easy about this movie. That’s not to say it’s a chore to watch; it’s simply that it possesses a subtle grace. And yet, it’s neither purely graceful nor simply subtle. Instead, it keeps the audience on edge and demands they remain so. It achieves this without imposing an extraneous weight that viewers must shoulder. From the outset, the film draws us in with its delicious invocation of horror. There is no waiting here; we’re pulled straight into the beautiful terror and anguish from the very beginning. The dread is irresistible. You can feel it in your skin—the thrilling pressure, like countless tiny pinpricks multiplying rapidly, leaving you with the sense that if you breathe before the film permits, you might miss something crucial.
After the initial landscape of horror and the desolation of this world is established, we enter a literal forest primeval—not merely a metaphor or prophecy, but the forest primeval from literature, reborn with new, hidden horrors absent from the first film. It’s almost as though this new wilderness created itself out of necessity. Gone are the free-roaming infected, wandering aimlessly and hoping to catch strays. This time, there’s a system—almost a caste structure. We meet an Alpha (Chi-Lewis Parry), a ruthless and brutal hulk of a leader, followed by an entire ragtag indigenous society of drones, scouts, and hunters.
Into this world steps a father, teaching his son not merely how to hunt, but how to exist and survive in this harsh new reality—a world they were never meant to belong to, but must navigate out of sheer necessity. Yet there’s another layer of horror here, distinct from the previous films. There exists a world presumed safe—the realm created by the last surviving humans. It seems secure, with the virus all but eradicated, except for a small island quarantine zone separated by a vast lake or ocean, offering only the illusion of safety.
When the father takes his son on a hunt, the tables quickly turn. Though they believe that following the rules will keep them safe, there’s a new set of rules dictated by the infected themselves. Since the previous two films, the infected have changed the game. Their hunts are now organised and deliberate; a single attack is merely the beginning. Previously, an assault was a mad dash for flesh and new recruits for the fever. Now, it’s a calculated effort to push the boundaries of existence. The infected yearn for a place to call their own. They believe they deserve territory and space—and if you trespass upon what they deem rightfully theirs, you must pay the price.
Yet, father and son survive their encounters and manage to return home. Spike’s mother is suffering from a mysterious illness, and Spike is determined to help her at all costs. He hatches a plan to enter the quarantine territory in search of a strange and eccentric doctor whom he believes can provide a cure—a doctor whom the village has condemned as an insane loner. This enigmatic figure survives among the infected in quarantine, another mystery unto himself.
The film delivers many surprises, but some of the most powerful moments are those steeped in humanity. These scenes are beautiful, heartfelt, and deeply soulful. I wish I could say more, but to do so would risk spoiling their essential magic. The film’s pacing is exquisite. In my view, the audience will lack for nothing while watching this movie. I believe it’s the best of the trilogy. Casting Ralph Fiennes was a stroke of genius, and he shines brilliantly, just as he does in all his roles.
28 Years Later is truly something to be cherished. It’s absolutely worth seeing at least once, and despite all the splatter and carnage, you can still safely eat your popcorn while watching. As the film’s magic takes hold, you might find yourself glancing around the cinema, half-expecting your neighbour to leap at you in a fevered, flesh-hungry frenzy.
This is one of those rare films where, even in review, it’s difficult to say too much about specific scenes or the true depths of the plot—revealing more would simply give too much away.
Fun Fact: There’s a poem called “Boots” that features as a narration in the trailer for 28 Years Later. The narration is a 1915 recording by Taylor Holmes, and it’s incredibly eerie. So unsettling, in fact, that it’s managed to creep out many audiences. The poem itself was written by author and poet Rudyard Kipling in 1903. The narration’s cadence is monotonous and dreary, echoing the relentless march of British soldiers—a tone that immediately burrows under your skin.
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