Directed by Nia DaCosta | Written by Alex Garland | 109 min | ▲▲▲1/2 | in Cinemas
For those reading this who wonder how I felt about the previous films in the franchise — the Danny Boyle original from 2002 is a genre classic, of course, that introduced us to fast zombies. 28 Weeks Later was a better than-it-needed-to-be sequel, but inessential. Last year’s 28 Years Later was a return to the material by original filmmakers Boyle and Garland, but failed to forward the genre like their first crack at it, and should have been a lot better given the talent assembled. This one is better.
That’s partly because director DaCosta (Candyman, The Marvels, Hedda) and her DP Sean Bobbitt (a favourite of Steve McQueen) has taken the story away from the too-familiar alleys of zombietown to something even darker, a bleak vision that runs with the set-up of Boyle’s film into themes of monstrousness in humanity, the idea that our conscious choices could be even worse than the madness of the Infected.
Young traveller Spike (Alfie Williams) from the last picture has been found by charismatic Sir Jimmy Crystal (Jack O’Connell) and his gang — a group of seven grimy, violent youngsters all named Jimmy. The chaos bringing isn’t unlike A Clockwork Orange‘s Droogs, but these murderous thugs wear bad blonde wigs as they torture their victims — the echoes of horrific sex predator and longtime British children’s TV host Jimmy Saville are deliberate. Among the gang is Jimmy Ink (Erin Kellyman, Eleanor The Great), who is less in the grip of Crystal while keeping an eye on young Spike.
We know O’Connell makes for a terrific villain — his Jimmy Crystal is a distant relative of his Irish vampire in Sinners, while he channels Richard Harris at his maddest. He can be calm and charming, but equally terrifying as he pursues a religious calling. That he’s literally in thrall to Satan is too on the nose, but then the Biblical allegories were laid on pretty thick in the last movie, this provides a fresh take.
This picture isn’t told through Spike’s eyes, as you might expect — if anything his suffering is just a subplot we check in on from time to time. Instead we we’re more focused on the bone temple with Dr Ian Kelson (Ralph Fiennes), the Kurtz-dipped-in-iodine doing his best to connect with an Alpha Zombie, a big fellow he names Samson (Chi Lewis-Parry), who he thinks could be saved from the infection. We also find he’s a hardcore Duran Duran fan, and in the film’s single best scene, a serious disciple of Iron Maiden. The thematic balance here is between Kelson’s efforts to find a spark of hope for humanity in his Memento Mori, and the Jimmys mission of bloody destruction, representative of the very worst of what we have to offer.
In comparison to 28 Years Later, this film feels a step in line with what Alex Garland does best, with a real dollop of humour — and a couple of terrific needle drops, love the use of Radiohead’s “Everything In It’s Right Place” — to help the horror go down easier. Sure, there’s stomach-churning gore delivered by creatures both infected and human, but the relative lack of zombie grue makes for a more thoughtful, less jittery, and more resonant movie. This one also ends on a cliff-hanger finale, with a twist reconnecting it with the broader franchise, but unlike the end of the last one I’m genuinely excited by where the next iteration might take us.
One last thought — if anyone had any doubt about the incredible gift of talent in Ralph Fiennes, who’s been impressing us on the big screen going back to Shindler’s List, consider how different the two characters he’s playing in two movies opening in the multiplex this weekend: This one, and The Choral. It’s a genuine pleasure to see a master at work in either film.
