It takes a special skill to make a dull zombie flick.
Zack Snyder’s “Army of the Dead” managed that dubious feat. So did Jim Jarmusch’s “The Dead Don’t Die.” At least “We Bury the Dead,” which focused on grief more than gore, kept our attention.
Those films all have some pluses, something that’s harder to say about “28 Years Later: The Bone Temple.” We could blame director Nia DaCosta, still smarting over her disastrous MCU debut (“The Marvels”), for the anemic sequel.
The real culprit is screenwriter Alex Garland.
The mind behind the “28 Days Later” franchise didn’t know where he wanted the story to go next, apparently. He settled on mindless torture, paper-thin characters and a story arc about a kinder, gentler corpse.
No cap.
Spike (Alfie Williams), the lad introduced in 2025’s “28 Years Later,” is now part of a murderous gang who wear stringy blond wigs.
Their leader, Jimmy Crystal (Jack O’Connell), indoctrinates poor Spike into the crew in the dumbest scene possible.
Some might call that a sign.
Jimmy’s acolytes (dubbed his Fingers) wander the undead landscape, searching for a story that never appears. Sure, they bump into other human survivors, but nothing that remotely resembles a subplot emerges.
Unless you consider torture a narrative perk.
Meanwhile, Dr. Kelson (Ralph Fiennes) is still puttering about his Bone Temple in between encounters with an “alpha” zombie he dubs Samson (Chi Lewis-Parry). Dr. Kelson repeatedly drugs Samson to ensure his personal safety, but in doing so discovers something that could help humanity survive the undead apocalypse.
Or, Dr. Kelson just needs a friend. Where’s Wilson when you need him?
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“The Bone Temple” is aggressively bloody, but while some horror leans into the icky stuff, like the darkly comic “Terrifier” saga, “Temple” lacks purpose. Even more unsettling? Why do we care about any of these characters?
Poor Spike isn’t much of a focal point, and he’s too small to make a difference. Spike’s growing bond with a fellow Finger (Erin Kellyman) is weak at best, robbing the film of a compelling subplot.
And why does anyone follow Jimmy in the first place? O’Connell can be mesmerizing, and he’s burning endless calories here, along with a red-skinned Fiennes. There’s no substance behind the theatrics.
Garland’s often astute storytelling evaporates early on, and his dialogue is a blend of coy musings and over-the-top blather.
Make it stop. That goes for the movie, too.
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The third act features a gonzo deep cut that, taken by itself, is gloriously unhinged. Seen as part of the big picture, though, it feels like a franchise frantic for a “member berries” moment.
“The Bone Temple” is pure visual noise. Ugly, visual noise, to be exact. Some of the better zombie movies have something to say, either a gloomy take on societal decline or observations on race and capitalism. The previous movie observed how humanity reverts back to classic gender roles during a societal reboot.
This film’s most inventive twist? Sure, those flesh-eating zombies are bad, but the remnants of humanity are even worse.
Whoa! If only zombie king George A. Romero had thought of that first.
Oh, wait, he did. And so did other filmmakers who have tried their hand at undead thrillers.
It’s the genre’s laziest trope, but it’s almost all “The Bone Temple” has to offer … unless you count Dr. Kelson trying to rehabilitate Samson before it rips his brain and spinal cord out.
There’s nothing here of consequence … until the epilogue.
No spoilers, of course, but expect a clunky stab at social relevance that comes out of nowhere and can’t connect with anything we’ve just witnessed. It will make TDS sufferers cry out in recognition, if this critic’s screening is any indication.
The best to be said about DaCosta’s direction is that she captures that frenzied, “28 Days Later” style that connects franchise installments. She also makes the very most of that titular Temple.
Beyond that, there’s precious little to savor from her handiwork or a franchise that has run out of things to say (or kill).
HiT or Miss: “28 Years Later: The Bone Temple” isn’t just a sorry excuse for a sequel. It’s a prime candidate for the year’s worst movie. And it’s only January.
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