28 Years Later

More Zombies, More Trauma, and Definitely No One’s Just “Taking a Quick Look Around”

28 Years Later is the long-awaited sequel to 28 Days Later and 28 Weeks Later, which makes this the third installment in a franchise where the only thing more contagious than the Rage virus is generational trauma. Danny Boyle is back directing, which means whatever happens will be beautifully filmed, emotionally devastating, and probably involve someone getting tackled through a pane of glass.

I haven’t seen it. But I watched the trailer, read several spoiler-free breakdowns, and stared at a blurry leaked set photo for six minutes like it was a magic eye puzzle. From what I’ve absorbed, the movie is set decades after the original outbreak, meaning humanity has either bounced back or completely lost the plot. I’m betting both.

Aaron Taylor-Johnson stars as the next unfortunate soul with enough optimism to try “rebuilding society,” which, in these movies, is code for “will probably be chased by infected while holding a child and crying.” Jodie Comer is in it too, which means someone will deliver a haunting monologue about grief while wiping blood off their cheek in cinematic lighting. Ralph Fiennes also shows up, which guarantees at least one deeply ominous conversation over a campfire.

The trailer opens with a peaceful moment. Which is immediately ruined by chaos, screaming, and someone being tackled into a pile of bones. There’s a crumbling city, a group of emotionally broken survivors, and that one guy who insists “we’re safe here” right before the infected Kool-Aid Man through the wall.

The Rage virus is allegedly “different now,” which could mean it’s faster, smarter, or it texts you before attacking. Either way, people are dying, running, and delivering emotional exposition while holding flashlights that are clearly about to go out.

Critics are calling it “a brutal return to form” and “unrelenting.” Which sounds great if your idea of fun is watching people slowly realize the apocalypse wasn’t the worst part—it’s what comes after when people start doing weird stuff with makeshift governments and canned peaches.

28 Years Later is not about hope. It’s about survival. It’s about loss. It’s about realizing that when the lights go out, the real danger isn’t just the monsters outside—it’s your deeply unqualified friend Gary who thinks he should be in charge now because he once watched a documentary about wolves.

I give it 4 out of 5 panicked flashlight flares, and I assume at least one character says, “We’re all infected,” with tears, rain, and just the right amount of whisper-screaming.