28 YEARS LATER. When he’s really cooking — which is frequently — Danny Boyle can be one of the most engaging, adventurous directors in the business. Trainspotting (1996), only his second feature, changed the lives of a generation of us with its boundless energy, convention-shattering camerawork and an absolute banger of a soundtrack. Ever since, Boyle has continued to challenge himself (and the audience) by playing in just about every cinematic sandbox one could imagine. There have been some notable misses among the hits, of course, but a significant part of the joy of his catalog lies in the risk inherent in its experimentation. Slumdog Millionaire (2008) has gone down as one of the notorious Oscar mistakes, for example, but when we watched it in real-time, it was captivating and undeniably new. Even Yesterday (2019), which in hindsight seems mostly insupportable, charmed me on first watch. Boyle has always taken big swings and embraced the possibility of failing as part and parcel of the enterprise. His work is infused, for better and worse, with a sense of wonder and enthusiasm that would put to shame a great many artists of far fewer years with much less to lose.
In 2002, Boyle and writer Alex Garland messed around and reinvented zombie movies (rage virus, I know) with 28 Days Later, a movie that felt almost as revolutionary as Trainspotting in its exploration of a devastated world. Granular and raw but still tremendously stylized, it created sense memories that linger. There was a sequel, which I’m sure has its rabid fans, but Boyle and Garland were conspicuously absent. And now, in something of a coup within the closing-in castle walls of mainstream movies, they’ve reteamed and returned to the blood-soaked, arms-akimbo world of their imaginings. Twenty-eight years haven’t quite elapsed in actual, terrestrial time, but it’s been a minute, and the prospect of a sequel of such advanced age bears the burden of potential audience disengagement, cultural irrelevance and redundancy. But, as he’s proven again and again, Boyle seems to relish the possibility of professional disaster. And to be fair, Garland is one of the finest, most prescient screenwriters in the game, so we’re not exactly bringing knives to a gunfight.
Per the title, almost three decades have passed since the rage virus (doesn’t merit a science name, I guess) swept through the United Kingdom. As we learn in title cards, the horde was contained and, presumably, life in the rest of the world has continued, impeded only by non-zombie horrors. On a small island, accessible only by a causeway at low tide, life has returned to some degree of normalcy, albeit marked by the absence of technology and a return to agrarianism. There, young Spike (Alfie Williams) prepares for his first trip to the mainland. His father, Jamie (Aaron Taylor-Johnson), a seasoned slayer of the infected, is affectionate and supportive, but also troubled by the undiagnosed illness of Spike’s mother, Isla (Jodie Comer).
Spike’s first foray proves to be more eventful/terrifying than anticipated, revealing, among other things, the potential presence of other uninfected people. More troubling than that, though, is the revelation that adults, in acts of pride and hubris, often misrepresent or conceal the truth. This and desperate love for his ailing mother leads Spike to spirit Isla away to the mainland in an attempt to find medical care.
Among the (many) brilliant successes of 28 Years Later is the completely unexpected presence of a deeply poignant family drama, divided cleanly between Spike’s experiences with his father and mother, and driven by his inchoate need to understand the human world. The story is as much about growing up, about the pain and discovery of aging, and about the sanctity of a good death as it is about shooting zombies with bows and arrows (of which there is plenty). This shouldn’t be surprising, especially given the pedigree of the movie’s creators, but the tension/balance between action and coming of age is so deftly maintained that the movie becomes something unbounded by genre or narrative convention. It’s also photographed with a vibrant, kinetic style (mostly on iPhone, purportedly) that gives equal weight to pastoral majesty and close-quarters combat horror. There is a lushness and quietude to the style of the piece that both underscores and counterpoints the inescapable cognitive dissonance of a boy growing up in a beautiful place that’s become hell on Earth.
There is a discussion to be had regarding the place of the 28 series within the horror and zombie genres, but to me, the great achievement here is in serving and subverting the conventions of those genres to tell a story that is timely and timeless, universally accessible in its specificity and focus. R. 115M. BROADWAY.
John J. Bennett (he/him) is a movie nerd who loves a good car chase.
NOW PLAYING
BALLERINA. Ana De Armas dances into the John Wick universe as a vengeance-seeking assassin, guns blazing, bodies dropping. R. 124M. BROADWAY.
ELIO. An imaginative kid finds himself representing Earth to the rest of the universe. Honestly, far better than who we have representing America to the world. PG. 99M. BROADWAY, MINOR.
F1. Brad Pitt rehabs his image playing a comeback driver racing with a rookie (Damon Idris). PG13. 156M. BROADWAY.
HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON. Live-action remake starring Mason Thames, Gerard Butler and Nico Parker. PG. 125M. BROADWAY (3D), MINOR.
LILO AND STITCH. Live-action remake of the space alien adventure in Hawaii. PG. 108M. BROADWAY.
MATERIALISTS. Rom-com about a matchmaker (Dakota Johnson) torn between her ex and her match but it’s Chris Evans and Pedro Pascal, so nobody feel sorry for her. R. 116M. BROADWAY.
M3GAN 2.0. The return of the homicidal robot frenemy. PG13. 119M. BROADWAY.
MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE – FINAL RECKONING. Tom Cruise reprises his superspy role to battle AI evil, because you people won’t stop asking Chat GPT things and feeding the robots. PG13. 169M. BROADWAY.
THE PHOENICIAN SCHEME. Benicio del Toro and Mia Threapleton in more macaron-palette deadpan comedy from Wes Anderson. PG13. 101M. MINOR.
For showtimes call: Broadway Cinema (707) 443-3456; Mill Creek Cinema 839-3456; Minor Theatre (707) 822-3456.
This article appears in The Man Who Unsolved a Murder.