The spectacular frenzy of 28 Years Later offers a new breed of pandemic storytelling
Twenty-three years on from director Danny Boyle’s unforgettable film 28 Days Later, and five years on from COVID, horror is having a spectacular renaissance. With 28 Years Later, the franchise has returned to cinema as a mouthpiece for the unique pressures Britain is facing post-pandemic and post-Brexit.
In 2020, speculative architect and director Liam Young said: “I’m sure the scripts for a new genre of virus fictions or ‘Vi-Fi’ are already in the works and perhaps that is the real opportunity of this present moment, to imagine the potential fictions and futures, and to prototype the new worlds that we all want to be a part of when the viral cloud lifts.” Well, here that vision is.
In this film, Europe has contained the “rage virus” to Britain. There are French boats on quarantine patrols, Swedish soldiers mocking remaining mainlanders and St George’s flags burning.
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28 Years Later is set on Holy Island, off the coast of the UK. There, an isolated community is protected by tides which conceal and reveal a causeway through which islanders can leave to get to the mainland to forage.
One of the film’s most adrenaline-spiking scenes comes in the form of a terrifying chase back to the island. A young boy named Spike (Alfie Williams) is hurrying back after performing his rite of passage ceremony in which he is instructed to kill infected people on the mainland. It’s sound-tracked to the transcendental tones of Wagner’s Das Rheingold prelude.
Twenty-eight years on from the events of the first film, the infected have evolved. Boyle has re-imagined them in even more monstrous forms. Gore-lovers will enjoy the menacing new brand of infected – seven-foot “alphas” – who rip heads from the living and dangle their severed spines.
An ode to COVID
Talking about how the pandemic inspired 28 Years Later, Boyle told Sky News:
Suddenly everybody’s capital city, everywhere around the world was the same. And what was incredible about it was obviously just this idea which had previously only really belonged to films, like our film, where culture is suddenly just stopped dead.
The film’s stars, Jodie Comer and Aaron Taylor Johnson, meanwhile have both said that they drew from their real-life experiences of pandemic isolation for their roles as Spike’s Geordie parents. As Taylor explained:
My son was 13, the same age as Alfie was when we were making this movie. I know what it was like to protect your family but also to not understand what was happening around us. And I thought it was interesting whilst reading this that an audience is going to understand that journey […] I drew upon a lot of those scenarios.
The film ushers in a new age of “Vi-Fi” without succumbing to pulpy pandemic storytelling. Boyle gives us an antidote to cultural amnesia around the pandemic through Dr Kelson, the mad doctor played by Ralph Fiennes.
Dr Kelson pushes against cultural erasure through his construction of a temple of bones: totems of tibias and a spire of skulls that honour the virus victims.
He touchingly explains that we are to remember death and remember love: “Every skull is a set of thoughts, these sockets saw, and these jaws swallowed.” Fiennes is adept at rendering this “crazy” loner character who has a knack for turning up at the right time; the effortlessness of his humanity is a pleasure to watch.
Boyle explained: “The COVID memorial wall opposite parliament is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen … it sort of inspired Ralph Fiennes’ character and what he’s building as a gesture towards remembering everyone as a way of actually looking forwards, not a way of looking back.”
After the creative inertia brought on by the COVID lockdowns, I’ve detected tectonic shifts in pandemic storytelling in my interviews with COVID authors.
Stories like 28 Years Later that “quietly” insert the pandemic and push COVID into the background are considered the easiest to digest. These stories are part of a new, radical literary avant-garde that has emerged in contemporary literature to chronicle the COVID era.
Pandemic fiction has become an oft-maligned genre; conversations on my podcast, Pandemic Pages, with emergency planner Professor Lucy Easthope and horror author Kylie Lee Baker confirm that literary festivals and agents have expressed reluctance to read or publish COVID fiction. Professor Easthope explained that many people just don’t feel ready to read about the pandemic.
For Baker, it’s that many people simply find the associations too traumatic. However, judging from the reactions of cinema-goers when I saw 28 Years Later, there is an audience hungry for another serving of Boyle’s insatiable trilogy.
Lucyl Harrison does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.