‘28 Years Later: The Bone Temple’ Is An Utterly Fascinating & Truly Terrifying Exploration Of Humanity [Review]
It’s squeamish and there’s brain-eating, but that’s not the point.
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Nia DaCosta is no stranger to the horror genre. Having directed Candyman (2021), she now takes the fourth entry of the 28 series, 28 Years Later: The Bone Temple (2026) to a level that’s frankly the most terrifying “zombie” movie I’ve watched in recent years.
I say “zombie” because to simply label the 28 Years Later series as just that is taking away from the point of these films, especially with the addition of The Bone Temple.
Bone Temple is more than a zombie film: it’s a deep dive into the real horrors of our time — and no, it’s not flesh-eating, kill-hungry monsters.
It’s trauma opening the door to twisted religiosity. It’s deep loneliness, forced isolation, and the desire for connection.
It’s the seed of monstrosity that’s dormant in all of us, simply awaiting an opportune moment to take root.
Orange is the new black?
Ralph Fiennes reprises his role as Dr Ian Kelson, the gentle, compassionate doctor that embodies hating the sin but not the sinner.
The Bone Temple is an ossuary that he built in remembrance of those whose lives have been lost to the Rage Virus. Despite him being radically thought-driven, his encounter with an Alpha (whom he names Samson, because of his strength and his hair) is one that paints him closer to a saviour than science-driven atheist.
Kelson’s messiah-like qualities are grounded in the fact that he does not seek to exalt himself to save others. It’s the “human” things about Kelson that saves this bleak world: the dancing, listening to old vinyls using a hand-cranked generator, offering “peace and respite” to a dangerous outcast that most would rather kill than heal.
On the other hand, there’s Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal (Jack O’Connell), who literally thinks he is Satan’s right-hand man.
Jimmy Crystal and all the other “fingers” he initiates into his little band of Jimmies, go around the scenic British countryside torturing townsfolk in a series of brutal and grotesque scenes in the name of “charity”.
The Jimmies make an unsettling Teletubbies reference in the film, an ode to Crystal watching the Teletubbies in 28 Years Later when the infected mauled his entire family.
The Jimmies even look like the Teletubbies, wearing matching suits in different colours, with a hint of Jimmy Saville who would’ve still been known as a famous UK TV presenter when Crystal was a little boy. Saville has since been revealed as a paedophile and sex offender.
But The Jimmies don’t remind me of Saville, Tinky-Winky, or Po, they remind me of Alex and the droogs from Stanley Kubrick’s A Clockwork Orange (1971) — as their “charity” mirrors closer to ultraviolence than mercy.
This creatively pits Kelson and Crystal at polar opposites of one another.
Now, it’s no longer man vs the infected. It’s the orange, iodine-soaked doctor looking into the pitch black eyes of the devil’s advocate — two men with very different souls.
If it isn’t already obvious, the religious references are heavy in this one, with the film’s tagline itself being: Fear is the new faith.
The Bone Temple was filmed consecutively with 28 Years Later (2025), and is set possibly minutes after the events of the first film. Spike (Alfie Williams) is quickly and viciously initiated into The Jimmies, but he’s finding it hard to get used to the gang’s lighthearted approach to savage killing.
Spike finds a compatriot in Jimmy Ink (Erin Kellyman), who doubts Crystal’s claims of being Old Nick aka Satan’s only begotten son. One day, Ink stumbles upon Kelson dancing with a demon (Samson, played by Chi Lewis-Perry) surrounded by human bones and concludes that this must be Crystal’s daddy, the devil himself.
Meanwhile, Samson is hooked on Kelson’s morphine concoction that offers him rest from all the rage within. He keeps coming back to Kelson for more, but the relationship morphs from being druggie-buddies to real friendship built on trust, care, and understanding of each other.
After Spike fails to capture a runaway hostage, Crystal almost wants to offer him up as “sacrifice”, when Ink reveals that she’s found Old Nick. In order to keep the delusion alive, Crystal makes a deal with Kelson: Keep the act up, or die.
And boy, did he give us an act.
Turning it up to 11, Fiennes gives us one of the best Iron Maiden music videos of all time. After banging it out to The Number of the Beast, he was about to live and let live, before he realised Spike was under Crystal’s thumb.
Crystal was probably around Spike’s age when the Outbreak first happened. It’s likely that the trauma Crystal endured as a child perverted his belief systems. The son of a vicar, he lived next to a church and watched his father hail the Outbreak as God’s Judgement before allowing the infected to flay him alive.
The Bone Temple ends in the only way it possibly can, with peace and respite. With a third installation on the way, the movie doesn’t tie up all the loose ends, but it gives us just enough to keep us coming back for more.
28 Years Later: The Bone Temple is now playing in cinemas nationwide.
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