When it comes to the zombie genre, few franchises have left as indelible a mark as the “28 Days Later” series. Now, with the release of “28 Years Later: The Bone Temple,” director Nia DaCosta and writer Alex Garland have delivered a sequel that is as audacious as it is unsettling, pushing the boundaries of horror while plumbing the depths of human nature in a world ravaged by the infamous Rage virus. In theaters nationwide on January 16, 2026, this film is not for the faint of heart—but it’s certainly one for the books.
Picking up directly where last year’s “28 Years Later” left off, “The Bone Temple” wastes no time throwing viewers back into its postapocalyptic vision of Great Britain, a land still reeling from the pandemic that turned ordinary people into monsters. The previous film ended with a cliffhanger so wild it left audiences dangling: young Spike, played with raw vulnerability by Alfie Williams, found himself rescued by a bizarre gang dressed in colorful velvet tracksuits and blonde wigs—an homage to disgraced children’s entertainer Jimmy Savile. As AZFamily recapped, this group, known as the Jimmies and led by the charismatic yet depraved Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal (Jack O’Connell), burst onto the scene with ninja-like bravado, dispatching infected with reckless abandon as a heavy metal cover of the Teletubbies theme blared in the background.
Spike’s journey in “The Bone Temple” is nothing short of harrowing. After losing his mother in the previous installment, the 12-year-old is swept up by the Jimmies, a cult of Savile-inspired psychopaths who have created a twisted micro-society in the ruins of civilization. Their initiation rites are brutal—Spike is forced into a knife fight to the death just to earn his place among them. The cult’s leader, Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal, is a villain for the ages: soft-spoken, seductive, and chillingly menacing, he dubs his followers the “Fingers” and refers to their Satanic deity as “Uncle Nick.” As Variety noted, the gang’s ritualistic violence and warped sense of charity—skin flaying is called “charity”—bring to mind the ultraviolence of “A Clockwork Orange,” but with a distinctly post-pandemic twist.
The Bone Temple itself, a towering structure of trussed-together bones and a pyramid of skulls, looms over the narrative both literally and symbolically. Conceived as a “memento mori” by the deranged Dr. Ian Kelson (Ralph Fiennes), it serves as a chilling reminder of the countless lives lost to the Rage virus. Fiennes, whose performance is already generating awards buzz, reprises his role as the eccentric scientist introduced in the last film. His research into the infected—especially the ultra-strong “alphas” like Samson (Chi Lewis-Parry)—forms the film’s emotional backbone. Kelson’s attempts to pacify the infected with morphine darts, and his almost tender interactions with Samson, offer moments of introspection and even hope amid the carnage.
Director Nia DaCosta, taking the reins from Danny Boyle, brings a new level of polish and intensity to the franchise. As noted by critics in The New York Post and AZFamily, DaCosta’s direction is both unsparing and visually stunning, trading Boyle’s kinetic, handheld style for deliberate long takes and close-ups that ratchet up the tension. The violence is unflinching—viewers are treated (or subjected) to scenes of brain-eating, family flaying, and even a climactic crucifixion that will go down as one of the most talked-about sequences of 2026. Yet, for all its gore, the film never loses sight of its characters’ humanity. The relationship between Kelson and Samson, in particular, is a highlight, with Chi Lewis-Parry’s non-verbal performance communicating volumes through expressive eyes alone.
The screenplay, penned by Alex Garland, masterfully weaves together two parallel plotlines: Spike’s struggle to survive within the cult of the Jimmies, and Kelson’s desperate scientific quest to understand—and perhaps cure—the Rage virus. As AZFamily observed, the film’s structure is economical and propulsive, with the two threads converging in an explosive, heavy metal finale that is both emotionally resonant and satisfyingly conclusive. While the film sets up a third installment (with Danny Boyle reportedly planning to return), “The Bone Temple” offers far more closure than the previous film’s baffling cliffhanger.
Much has been made of the film’s tonal shifts, with moments of dark humor punctuating the relentless horror. The Jimmies’ bizarre affectations—their Savile-inspired costumes, their twisted lexicon, their penchant for quoting children’s shows—lend the film a surreal edge that is as disturbing as it is oddly funny. As The New York Post put it, “It was as if a grotesque murder spree had been capped off by Rip Taylor throwing a handful of glitter into the air.” Yet, DaCosta deftly balances these elements, ensuring that the humor never undercuts the film’s emotional stakes or its visceral impact.
The performances across the board are exceptional. Jack O’Connell’s Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal is a standout, his insincere gentility barely masking a black hole of morality. Alfie Williams brings heart and depth to Spike, even as his role takes a backseat to the adult leads. Erin Kellyman, as one of the more compassionate Jimmies, adds a touch of hope and levity to the proceedings, reminding viewers that even in a world gone mad, kindness can still flicker in the darkness.
From a technical standpoint, “The Bone Temple” is a major step up from its predecessor. Hildur Guðnadóttir’s haunting score replaces the distracting musical choices of the previous film, immersing viewers in an atmosphere of dread and melancholy. Cinematographer Sean Bobbitt’s Hollywood-grade visuals lend the film a sense of scale and gravitas, moving away from the grittier, more experimental techniques of earlier entries. The result is a film that feels both epic and intimate, a horror movie with brains—and heart.
Of course, not everything is perfect. Some critics have noted that the film’s brisk pace leaves certain relationships underdeveloped, particularly the intriguing dynamic between Kelson and the infected alpha, Samson. Yet, as The New York Post argues, “I prefer a movie that leaves you wanting more to one that leaves you wanting a lobotomy.” And with an original star from the franchise making a satisfying return, fans have plenty to look forward to in the inevitable threequel.
“28 Years Later: The Bone Temple” is a bold, brutal, and often darkly funny addition to the zombie canon. It’s a film that dares to ask what remains of our humanity when civilization collapses—and whether redemption is possible, even for the most lost among us. For longtime fans and newcomers alike, this is one horror sequel that truly delivers.
