28 Years Later 4K 2025

It was awesome—that was my first reaction after watching the new creation from the time-tested duo Boyle and Garland. Perhaps this is because I don't have any reverent, nostalgic feelings about the 2002 film. I wasn't skeptical—I wasn't expecting sacrilege, but I wasn't expecting revelations either. So I got exactly what I value in cinema: a well-told story with magnificent acting, masterfully written characters, a well-developed conflict, lively and mesmerizing visuals coupled with meditative scenes during which you can reflect on what you have seen, and a simple, uncluttered idea that you have to love your fate, no matter how unfair it may seem, accept everything that happens with dignity, so that when the curtain falls, you can leave quietly and beautifully. I never thought I would cry while watching a movie about a zombie apocalypse, but Danny Boyle and Alex Garland have made one of the most heartfelt and intelligent films that was supposed to be (?) a blockbuster. Bravo.

I don't want to go into detail about the plot. 28 Years Later is one of those films where you dive in and find such depths and hidden treasures that you simply marvel at the acting and the plot, are enchanted by the beauty of the restored landscapes, and even forget that you are watching a movie — you are there.

But I must admit, I did have one skepticism. The star-studded cast. The sheer number of names was alarming. How would Garland and Boyle be able to tie them all together so that no one would steal the show? But their approach is a master class for everyone on how to work with actors so that they don't drown each other out. It's a balance between polyphony and cacophony, and it lies in a clear distribution of which actors appear in which parts of the film and who connects them all. And also, that each of the actors will have their own core, a clearly defined character with a basis for conflict. So, it turns out that Aaron Taylor-Johnson is the beginning, Jodie Comer is the middle, Ralph Fiennes is the finale, and Jack O'Connell is the epilogue. But they are all connected by the incredibly talented youngster Alfie Williams, who carried this insanely ambitious project beyond the atmosphere on his fragile shoulders. And the psychedelic interlude with a reading of Kipling's poem “Boots” only emphasizes the transcendence of the story being told.

The film encompasses the glorious past of British culture, from Robin Hardy's The Wicker Man to Dickens' coming-of-age novels. It works well as part of an already established franchise, but also as a standalone work. There is room for humor and secondary characters in this film. I especially remember Eric (Edwin Rudding) and the jokes about the buffet and his allergic ex-girlfriend. A nerd like me managed to spot, no, not Cillian Murphy, but an Easter egg to his character when Eric talks about his friend Felix, who works as a courier, and how everything in his life would have been great if he had also chosen the fate of a courier instead of a soldier. Yes, Cillian Murphy is laughing somewhere (they promise that in the sequel) about the fact that you don't choose your destiny. This film has room for Goya's dark fantasies, and it was his “Saturn Devouring His Son” that reminded me of both the evolved and primitive zombie alphas. And there are also hints of completely unsentimental pacifism, masterfully played by my favorite Ralph Fiennes, so that I wanted to shoot all the aggressors with a dart containing a sleeping pill, just to have a moment of peace and quiet.