Released in theaters on June 20, 2025, 28 Years Later is the long-awaited third entry in the acclaimed British horror saga that began with 28 Days Later in 2002. Directed by Danny Boyle, returning to the franchise after over two decades, and written by Alex Garland, this new chapter reinvigorates the infected-apocalypse genre with both stunning creativity and emotional depth. Starring Alfie Williams, Aaron Taylor-Johnson, Jodie Comer, Ralph Fiennes, and Jack O’Connell, and produced by Columbia Pictures, the film continues the legacy of the Rage virus by shifting its focus to a new generation growing up in a quarantined, devolved UK. In this 28 Years Later movie review, we explore how Boyle and Garland craft a horrifying, beautiful, and deeply human tale of survival and self-discovery that redefines what a zombie movie can be.
Genre:Horror, Thriller
A Quarantined World, A Generational Shift
Life After the End
The world of 28 Years Later is not the burned-out London of 2002. It's a post-Rage-virus Britain, fully quarantined and cut off from the rest of the globe, where generations have grown up without firsthand memory of the outbreak. Our story centers on Spike (played with quiet brilliance by newcomer Alfie Williams), a 12-year-old boy raised in the isolation of Holy Island, a small fortified community off the coast of Scotland.
His father, Jamie (Aaron Taylor-Johnson), a revered hunter and protector, takes him on his first expedition to the mainland, a rite of passage that’s part survival training, part myth-breaking. The mainland is crawling with mutated infected—slow, worm-eating grotesques and towering “Alphas” that redefine terror. It’s a world of danger, but also of mystery. One fire in the distance, one choice made in the dark, and Spike’s childhood innocence begins to unravel.
The Horror Evolves – And So Do the Infected
Boyle and Garland’s reimagining of the Rage virus ecosystem is a triumph of worldbuilding and metaphor. There are now clear “species” of infected—the shambling, pathetic remnants of the old world, and the terrifying Alphas, smart, fast, powerful, and nearly unkillable. These aren't just monsters—they’re reflections of human mutation, of rage turned into evolution.
The Alphas are standout antagonists. One chilling chase sequence across a flooded causeway at night, with aurora-lit skies and primal screams echoing off the rocks, delivers the most heart-pounding horror I’ve felt in a cinema in years. Yet, the terror isn’t senseless. The infected are not just a threat—they’re a mystery. Garland subtly invites the audience to question the nature of infection, of transformation, and of what makes a human lose their soul.
Alfie Williams Anchors a Coming-of-Age Epic
A New Hero for a New Age
Alfie Williams is the emotional core of the film. As Spike, he carries the weight of generational trauma, the burden of caring for a sick mother, and the disillusionment of learning that his father’s stories don’t match reality. Williams plays the role with a blend of youthful sincerity and aching maturity. He’s not an action hero—he’s a boy trying to do the right thing in a world that doesn’t care.
His journey—from obedient son to independent survivor—is gradual, painful, and powerful. Whether he’s sneaking his mother across hostile terrain or laying her memory to rest in a bone-built temple, Spike’s story becomes less about killing infected and more about holding on to one’s humanity.
A Devastating Performance from Jodie Comer
As Isla, Spike’s mother, Jodie Comer brings pathos and ferocity to a role that could have easily been sidelined. Isla suffers from intense neurological symptoms—memory loss, hallucinations, and pain—but Comer ensures that her love for Spike never fades, even as she forgets everything else. Her scenes are raw and grounded, showing a different kind of horror: the slow loss of identity.
Comer gives Isla a gentle dignity, even in her most disoriented moments, and her chemistry with Williams makes the mother-son relationship the emotional spine of the film. It’s not about surviving together—it’s about saying goodbye.
Ralph Fiennes and the Temple of Mortality
Rounding out the central trio is Ralph Fiennes as Dr. Ian Kelson, a mysterious survivor whose fire-lit outpost in the mainland becomes a turning point in the narrative. Covered in orange iodine and surrounded by bones, Kelson is equal parts Kurtz, philosopher, and mortician. His temple of death is both horrifying and oddly beautiful.
Fiennes, with quiet gravitas, delivers the film’s deepest truths about memory, mortality, and mercy. When he euthanizes the suffering with tranquilizing blowdarts, it’s not monstrous—it’s peaceful. Kelson doesn’t fight the infected—he studies them, honors them, buries them. His presence reframes the film’s thesis: perhaps we shouldn’t fear the infected so much as forgetting the dead.
Visceral Visuals, Hallucinatory Editing
Boyle’s decision to shoot the film largely on iPhone 15 Pro Maxes lends 28 Years Later a gritty immediacy without sacrificing cinematic scope. The visuals range from panoramic shots of the Scottish coast to chaotic handheld horror, all with a stylized, otherworldly flair. Cinematographer Anthony Dod Mantle and editor Jon Harris use every tool available—freeze frames, archival war footage, infrared overlays—to destabilize and immerse.
The result is a film that feels like it’s constantly mutating, like the virus itself. One moment, you're watching medieval knights ride into battle. The next, you're in a red-lit forest with eyes peering from every tree. It’s disorienting, beautiful, and unforgettable.
Soundtrack and Score – Rage Meets Reflection
The music by Young Fathers pulses with tribal energy and mournful electronic ambience. It’s a perfect pairing for Boyle’s visual experimentation. The score doesn’t just accompany the action—it drives it. In chase scenes, the rhythm pounds like a heartbeat. In quiet moments, it hums like a ghost.
Particularly effective is the way the music interacts with silence. Some of the film’s most impactful scenes feature little to no sound—just wind, breath, the distant growl of something unseen. These pauses, these moments of reflection, elevate the film above simple horror.
More Than a Sequel – A Statement
28 Years Later doesn’t try to outdo 28 Days Later or 28 Weeks Later. It expands, matures, and questions. The film is as much a philosophical treatise as it is a horror movie. It’s about accepting death, about facing lies, and about choosing empathy over fear. It avoids easy answers. There’s no vaccine, no miracle. Just people trying to live with the consequences of history.
The Rage virus is no longer just a metaphor for infection. It’s a metaphor for inherited trauma, for generational violence, for the stories we tell our children to protect them—and what happens when those stories collapse.
Final Verdict – A Masterful Evolution of the Genre
28 Years Later is more than a horror sequel. It’s a coming-of-age epic, a meditation on grief, a visual experiment, and a bold artistic statement. It’s also terrifying—truly, at times unbearably so. But beneath the gore and the screams is a heart that beats with compassion, curiosity, and hope.
With a powerful central performance from Alfie Williams, emotionally resonant turns by Comer and Fiennes, and Danny Boyle operating at his most fearless, this film not only honors the legacy of its predecessors but pushes the zombie genre into uncharted, transcendent territory.
Rating: ★★★★½ (4.5/5)