Courtesy of Sony

Rage infects all of us. The perils of the world persist, even as the literal rage-virus continues to plague humanity. That’s the core throughline of Danny Boyle and Alex Garland’s hotly anticipated “28 Years Later,” the long-gestating follow-up to a franchise that helped redefine the zombie genre in 2002 when Cillian Murphy woke from a coma in a desolate London in “28 Days Later.” That film struck a nerve in a post-9/11 world, its raw digital aesthetic mirroring a society grappling with fear and uncertainty—at home and abroad. “28 Weeks Later” carried that momentum forward by pulling the United States into the fray, portraying an ill-fated attempt to contain the outbreak. But as the opening title card of “28 Years Later” reminds us, Britain was ultimately abandoned and left to fend for itself.

Like the original, this third installment arrives at a global inflection point, where diplomacy feels hollow and stability even more fleeting. Much like the fictional Britain in the film, many parts of today’s world feel overlooked and left behind while the rest of us doomscroll on our iPhones or trudge through dead-end jobs. “28 Years Later” is a bizarre but ultimately rewarding experience—bookended with the promise of more to come. The sequel, “The Bone Temple,” is already in post-production, with a third entry in active development.

Make no mistake: “28 Years Later” won’t leave the seismic cultural impact its predecessor did. But that’s not Boyle’s goal. Instead, he returns to this world with a renewed focus on human emotion, delivering a more personal, endearing story about a son’s determination to save his mother in a world ravaged by chaos. There is still plenty of guts and gore, and yes, the infected are back (technically not zombies, they’re not reanimated, just driven to uncontrollable violence). But the film’s true strength lies in its slivers of hope, in its desire to explore what’s left of our humanity.

“28 Days Later” was seen as a pioneer of digital filmmaking, and its cultural value has only grown in the 23 years since its release. Rewatch it today and the grainy, handheld cinematography adds to the dread and disorientation. With “28 Years Later,” Boyle aims to innovate again, this time by teaming up with cinematographer Anthony Dod Mantle to shoot the film on high-end iPhones, augmented with plenty of attachments and rigs to give it a cinematic polish. The result is a visually striking film: slick and crisp, yet peppered with intentional nods to the grimy aesthetic of the original. Each kill is framed with purpose, the camera whipping with frenetic energy. Boyle jokingly calls it a “poor man’s Bullet Time,” but the effect is undeniably intense and immersive.

The story opens on a small, isolated island that has successfully eradicated the virus. Connected to the mainland by a narrow causeway, the island gives its residents a fragile sense of safety. It’s here we meet Jamie (Aaron Taylor-Johnson), one of the island’s best hunters, taking his 12-year-old son Spike (a fantastic Alfie Williams) on his first patrol to kill an infected.

What begins as a traditional survival narrative quickly morphs into a poignant coming-of-age tale. But rather than focus on the father-son bond, the heart of the story lies with Spike, who is desperate to find help for his ailing mother, Isla (Jodie Comer), who spends most of her days bedridden, screaming into the void. Whether it’s an advanced form of dementia or a new mutation of the virus, Garland’s script leaves space for ambiguity. Could the virus now present in subtler, more insidious ways?

With the island lacking proper medical care, Spike concocts a risky plan to smuggle his mother to the mainland in search of a mysterious doctor he’s only heard whispers about. From there, the plot takes some sharp, unexpected turns. As with Garland’s previous work, such as “Annihilation,” the film resists easy answers and denies audiences a crowd-pleasing resolution, though it does set up the next chapter in compelling fashion.

“28 Years Later” does a strong job re-immersing us in this universe. It doesn’t resort to nostalgia-driven retreads or legacy sequel clichés. Instead, it asks big questions: What do we value in a dying world? What’s worth saving? And how do we hold onto hope when everything around us has collapsed? Small relics of the past—a frisbee for example—take on enormous meaning. Whether the film fully sticks the landing is up for debate, but its boldness is admirable. It’s a rare thing: a contemplative, character-driven horror film from a major studio.

Its ending isn’t engineered for applause. It’s designed to rattle you, to leave you uneasy, questioning what’s real, what’s left, and what’s next. As one character observes in a moment of grim clarity: we all go a little mad sometimes.

Grade: B 

28 YEARS LATER is now playing in theaters.