28 Years Later: The Bone Temple Review: In The Cathedral Of Chaos, Ralph Fiennes Shines

Title: 28 Years Later: The Bone Temple

Director: Nia DaCosta

Cast: Ralph Fiennes, Jack O’Connell, Alfie Williams, Erin Kellyman, Chi Lewis-Parry

Where: In theatres near you

Rating: 3.5 Stars

This film arrives with the swagger of a franchise that has shed its zombie baggage and embraced full-blown operatic madness. What began two decades ago as a lean survival thriller now mutates into a spectacle where infected monsters are almost incidental. Instead, director Nia DaCosta steers the narrative toward a collision of human delusion, wayward theology and a doctor with enough iodine on his skin to glow in the dark.

The story resumes moments after the previous film, plunging us into a landscape where Britain resembles a derelict open-air museum curated by death. Yet the real threat is not the infected but a roving cult of peroxide zealots who behave like an audition tape for the apocalypse’s least competent deity. Their antics occasionally teeter on the farcical, but there is method in the cinematic madness: the film argues, quite persuasively, that the true monsters are rarely the ones frothing at the mouth.

Despite its gore, the film has a surprising tenderness, especially in the evolving bond between the lone medic Kelson and Samson, the towering infected whose taste for tranquillity makes him oddly endearing. The film’s tonal juggling, which blends horror, satire, action and the occasional philosophical sigh, doesn’t always land, but the ambition is admirable. It’s a folk-horror detour in a zombie franchise, and somehow it works more often than it falters.

Actors’ Performance

Ralph Fiennes walks away with the film tucked neatly into his pocket. His Kelson is equal parts mystic, scientist and reluctant rock star, carrying scenes with a blend of weary wisdom and erratic fervour. Even at his most unhinged, he retains a calm that suggests he might apologise to you right after scaring you senseless.

Jack O’Connell, meanwhile, leans fully into the cult-leader madness. His portrayal of Jimmy Crystal has the charm of a snake oil salesman and the menace of someone who might sell you the bottle afterwards. He plays the role with such vigour that one almost feels the franchise is grooming him for his own spin-off. Erin Kellyman provides grit as the lone sceptic in Jimmy’s merry band of tormentors, while Chi Lewis-Parry brings surprising nuance to Samson, elevating the infected from growling spectacle to something resembling tragic evolution.

Music and Aesthetics

The film’s sonic palette is a delightful riot, a heavy metal hymn here, a dreamy synth haze there, and brooding choral passages threading through scenes of carnage. It’s a mixtape for the end times, and DaCosta deploys it with clever restraint. Sean Bobbitt’s cinematography favours ravaged horizons and unsettling symmetry, often framing the action as though an unseen spectator is lurking just beyond the rubble. The titular Bone Temple is a triumph of grotesque beauty, part cathedral and part catacomb, reflecting Kelson’s curious blend of reverence and rebellion.

FPJ Verdict

Overall, The Bone Temple is uneven, occasionally indulgent, yet frequently remarkable. With Fiennes’ mesmerising performance anchoring the chaos, this chapter secures its place as one of the franchise’s boldest gambles, and, surprisingly, one of its most affecting.