Reviews for28 Years Later: The Bone Temple
Second best in the series by far

I loved this even more than the last entry in the series, which I was not expecting. Where the first 28 Years Later focuses on grief, this one commits itself fully to rage and horror. It fills in areas where the other maybe lacks, and is pillared by some incredible performances. It truly encapsulates the horror of realising your childhood is forever gone, and you are left in the middle of the carnage to survive. My only complaint was literally that I just wanted it to be longer, especially if I could get more insight into the dynamic of the Jimmys.
I Will Learn to Survive

_And I don't cry for yesterday, there's an ordinary world_ _Somehow I have to find_ _And as I try to make my way to the ordinary world_ _I will learn to survive_ “There were so many dead—infected and non-infected alike. Because they are alike. Every skull is a set of thoughts. These sockets saw and these jaws spoke and swallowed. This is a monument to them. A temple.” “Nothing is—no one is. It's just us.” The Bone Temple. An ossuary: a place of death, a place of remembrance, a place of life. Statues of bone. A monolith of skulls. The collective history of so many lives looking out. A place of science and faith, intersecting, colliding. Where 28 Years Later was a film about history, the past and the future colliding together in the present, all focused on Spike, a boy becoming a man; The Bone Temple is a film about order and chaos as funneled through Dr. Ian Kelson and Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal. Dual lives, one an older man and the other younger, both born before the End, both having spent more than a lifetime grappling with the world they exist in. To Jimmy, the infected are something beyond the order of Earth. An element of chaos, demons sent forth by Satan itself. An infernal legion to be feared. Fear grips the heart so, so tightly. Lashing out in that fear, twisting into something evil. To Ian, the infected are people, condemned to an existence of anguish and pain. Sickness that can be combated. Hope that can be found in eyes, red in rage. A tale of saving the human soul. “The Devil's always up for making a deal.” The Bone Temple is a far more formal film, yet so much more brilliant for that fact. Trading the hectic chaos of Spike’s story, filmed as chaotic as it is, for a dichotomic picture, still and quiet as needed. So much of this film lives in its ability to let things breathe. “Moon.”
How's that!!! Bloody brilliant!

Wow, I loved the movie when I first watched it at home, but seeing it on the big screen brings it to a whole other level. The acting was brilliant-Jack O'Connell & Ralph Fiennes, the actors you are! Their characters are complete opposites, but they each managed to steal the show whenever present: Jimmy, the cruel leader who seeks his peace in bringing pain and agony to others, obsessed with a devil of his own making from not quite understanding his childhood trauma; and Dr. Kelson, the kind, cerebral doctor who just wants to ease the pain and bring peace to this doomed world. 'Cause after all, "nothing wrong with peace and respite." Different characters, but just as impactful. Which brings me to Samson. Watching Dr. Kelson and Samson interact was not something I expected, but welcomed. This side story not only shows Dr. Kelson's desire to understand and learn more about the infected, but also how lonely his world truly is. This is not to say that the other actors didn't do justice to their parts. From Alfie Williams, who plays Spike, to all the Jimmies, everyone shone and felt real. Especially Spike—the shy kid who was scared to go with his dad on their first adventure, is now on his own and way over his head. But he persists, he survives, and becomes only stronger. What I always find ironic, in a way, is that while movies like this start with some sort of epidemic of infected/zombies, they always end up being just stories about people- their journey, their losses, their pain. And as always, it actually turns out that people can be way worse than any monsters.