28 Years Later: The Bone Temple (2026) – Review: Nia DaCosta Delivers a Theological Horror Masterpiece
Title: 28 Years Later: The Bone Temple (2026)
Director: Nia DaCosta
Screenwriter: Alex Garland
Genre: Horror / Sci-Fi / Drama
Runtime: 109 minutes
Release Date: January 16, 2026 (USA)
The “Rage” has evolved, and so has the franchise. Six months after Danny Boyle’s triumphal return with 28 Years Later, director Nia DaCosta takes the baton for the second chapter in the new trilogy, 28 Years Later: The Bone Temple. Where Boyle’s film was a kinetic rediscovery of a broken Britain, DaCosta’s sequel is a descent into its twisted soul. Anchored by a career-best performance from Ralph Fiennes and a terrifying turn by Jack O’Connell, The Bone Temple is less a zombie sprint and more a theological nightmare, asking not just how we survive, but what we worship when civilization collapses.
This review contains full spoilers for the plot and ending.
Film Data
| Category | Details |
| Director | Nia DaCosta |
| Writers | Alex Garland |
| Starring | Ralph Fiennes, Jack O’Connell, Alfie Williams, Erin Kellyman, Chi Lewis-Parry, Cillian Murphy |
| Cinematography | Sean Bobbitt |
| Music | Hildur Guðnadóttir |
| Production Co | DNA Films, Decibel Films, Columbia Pictures |
| Rating | R (Strong violence, gore, language) |
Plot Synopsis
The film picks up moments after the conclusion of 28 Years Later. Spike (Alfie Williams), having fled the sanctuary of Lindisfarne, finds himself navigating the perilous mainland of Northern England. The narrative bifurcates into two distinct, eventually colliding storylines.
In the first thread, we follow Dr. Ian Kelson (Ralph Fiennes), a former general practitioner living in isolation near a crumbling abbey. Kelson has constructed the titular “Bone Temple”—a meticulous, artistic ossuary made from the cleaned skeletal remains of the infected and survivors alike. It is a monument to the dead, grounded in atheistic grief rather than religious hope. Kelson’s routine is disrupted when he captures a massive Alpha infected, whom he names Samson (Chi Lewis-Parry). Instead of killing the creature, Kelson discovers Samson retains a strange sentience and is addicted to a morphine-xylazine mixture Kelson brews. A perverse bond forms: the doctor and the monster, finding quietude in a drug-induced haze.
The second thread follows Spike, who is captured by “The Jimmys,” a cult dominating the ruins of Yorkshire. Led by the charismatic and psychotic Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal (Jack O’Connell)—the adult version of the boy seen in the prologue of the previous film—the cult worships the Rage virus as a divine cleanser. They dress in brightly colored, Teletubby-esque hazmat suits and engage in ritualistic violence. Spike is initiated into their ranks but struggles with their brutality, finding an ally in Jimmy Ink (Erin Kellyman), a disillusioned lieutenant.
The paths converge when Jimmy Crystal learns of the “Bone Temple” and Kelson’s tamed Alpha. Viewing the Alpha as a messianic figure (“Old Nick’s son”), Crystal marches his army to Kelson’s sanctuary to claim the beast. The confrontation is brutal. Kelson attempts to reason with Crystal using logic and humanism, but Crystal’s madness is impenetrable.
In the chaotic climax, Crystal attempts to “commune” with Samson. The Alpha, roused from his stupor and enraged by the cult’s noise, tears through the Jimmys in a sequence of visceral gore. Kelson sacrifices himself to distract Samson, allowing Spike and Ink to escape. As the temple burns, consuming both the doctor and the cult leader, Spike and Ink flee south.
The film concludes with an epilogue: Spike and Ink arrive at a remote, well-tended cottage in the Lake District. They are greeted by an older, scarred man holding a machete—Jim (Cillian Murphy)—finally reintroducing the original protagonist and setting the stage for the final chapter.
Detailed Critique
Themes: Fear is the New Faith
While Danny Boyle’s films focus on the immediate biological terror of the Rage virus, Nia DaCosta shifts the lens to sociology and theology. The Bone Temple argues that after 28 years, the virus is no longer a disease to the survivors; it is an environment, a god, or a punishment.
The duality between Kelson and Jimmy Crystal is the film’s intellectual core. Kelson represents the persistence of science and secular mourning—he cleans bones to honor the past reality of the person. Crystal represents the new dark age, twisting pop-culture fragments (Teletubbies, Jimmy Savile references) into a grotesque new religion. DaCosta masterfully explores how trauma, left to fester for decades, curdles into fanaticism.
Acting: A Tale of Two Performances
Ralph Fiennes is phenomenal. He plays Kelson with a weary, intellectual sorrow that grounds the film’s more fantastical elements. His scenes with the infected Samson are risky—they could have easily drifted into camp—but Fiennes sells the desperate loneliness of a man who would rather converse with a monster than be alone with his memories.
Opposite him, Jack O’Connell is electric and terrifying. He sheds the stoic hero archetype for something feral. His Jimmy Crystal is a villain for the ages: manically cheerful, physically imposing, and deeply damaged. O’Connell captures the specific horror of a child raised by the apocalypse, whose moral compass was shattered before it could even form.
Direction and Visuals
Stepping into Danny Boyle’s shoes is no small task, but DaCosta brings a distinct visual language. Working with cinematographer Sean Bobbitt, she trades the frenetic, digital grain of the previous films for wider, painterly compositions. The Bone Temple itself is a triumph of production design—a gothic cathedral of ribs and skulls that feels both beautiful and repulsive.
The action sequences are less frequent but more impactful. The “skinned farm” sequence, where the Jimmys raid a survivor settlement, is shot with a cold, detached steadiness that makes the violence more disturbing than Boyle’s shaky-cam chaos.
Sound and Score
Hildur Guðnadóttir’s score is a departure from John Murphy’s iconic guitar riffs. It is cello-heavy, droning, and industrial, perfectly matching the film’s bleaker, more meditative tone. The sound design deserves special mention for the vocalizations of Samson; the creature’s breathing and guttural clicks create a language of their own, making him a character rather than just a threat.
Strengths & Weaknesses
Strengths:
-
Theological Depth: Elevates the zombie genre into a study of cultism and grief.
-
Ralph Fiennes: A heartbreaking performance that anchors the horror in humanity.
-
Production Design: The Bone Temple set piece is visually iconic and haunting.
-
The Villain: Jack O’Connell delivers one of the franchise’s most memorable antagonists.
-
Ending Setup: The appearance of Cillian Murphy feels earned and exciting, not just fan service.
Weaknesses:
-
Pacing: The middle act, focused on Kelson’s relationship with the Alpha, moves slowly and may test the patience of viewers expecting constant action.
-
Tonal Shift: The “Jimmy” cult, with their bright costumes and bizarre rituals, borders on surrealism that might clash with the gritty realism fans expect.
-
Gore: It is significantly more gruesome than its predecessors, potentially alienating squeamish viewers.
Final Verdict
28 Years Later: The Bone Temple is a bold, divisive, and brilliant middle chapter. It refuses to simply rehash the running-zombie formula, instead opting to explore the psychological rot of a world gone wrong. Nia DaCosta has crafted a film that is as much a folk-horror fable as it is a sci-fi thriller. While it lacks the raw adrenaline of the original 28 Days Later, it replaces it with a creeping dread and intellectual ambition that makes it arguably the most mature entry in the saga.
Rating: 4.5/5 Stars