'28 Years Later: The Bone Temple' Is Bonkers But Triumphant

"You know what zombie movies never seem to have enough of? Dancing. They've got gore and screaming and lots of guttural snarling, but no boogie. That all changes with 28 Years Later: The Bone Temple and the dancing here is to - naturally off-kilter - 1980s heroes Duran Duran. Nia DaCosta directs from a returning Alex Garland script and it starts right where 2025's 28 Years Later - directed by Danny Boyle - left off."

"Jimmy - played by a diabolical Jack O'Connell in a tracksuit and gold chains, like a low-level Mafia lieutenant from The Sopranos - leads a band of young psychopaths, as deadly to both virus survivors as the snarling, semi-human infected. They don blond wigs and each is named Jimmy. There's a whiff of A Clockwork Orange about them - menacing, prone to ultraviolence, gleeful in destruction. "Does that sound like normal screaming, Jimmy?" one asks. Spike, bless his heart, doesn't belong here."

"It turns out they both like a hit or two of morphine and looking up at the sky, all blissed out. Or dancing. That's when Duran Duran comes in, supplying "Ordinary World," "Girls on Film" and "Rio" to a sight rare in zombie movies: Two whacked-out guys - one an eye-bulging monster who rips heads off with the spines still attached, the other a skinny Englishman who starred in The English Patient - swaying hand-in-hand to pop synth."

Nia DaCosta directs from a returning Alex Garland script that picks up where 2025's 28 Years Later left off. Jack O'Connell plays Jimmy, a tracksuit-wearing, gold-chain-clad leader of young psychopaths who threaten both virus survivors and infected. The gang dons blond wigs and each member is named Jimmy, evoking A Clockwork Orange with gleeful ultraviolence. Kelson cautiously reaches out to an infected Alpha played by former MMA fighter Chi Lewis-Parry, and the two bond over morphine and shared, euphoric moments. Duran Duran's synth-pop — including "Ordinary World," "Girls on Film" and "Rio" — underscores an unusually tender, off-kilter dance amid gruesome horror.

Read at Kqed