Courtesy of Sony

Six months removed from Danny Boyle’s vapid, highly caffeinated revamp of the zombie franchise that began with Cillian Murphy back in 2003, comes Nia DaCosta’s “28 Years Later: The Bone Temple,” a film that feels not only more dialed in but more humane. The second installment in a planned trilogy, it manages something most gory zombie flicks rarely even attempt, let alone pull off: it has a heart.

Yes, there’s bloodshed. Yes, there’s the occasional gory dismemberment. But DaCosta, working from a script by series mainstay Alex Garland, dares to peer beneath the carnage and imagine what a zombie-infested world might look like if we stopped viewing the infected as pure monsters. Instead, “The Bone Temple” frames them as broken people, misunderstood, misdiagnosed, and possibly, with the right treatment, capable of seeing the world anew. It’s a surprisingly tender idea for a franchise built on terror and rage, and it’s one that gives this sequel its distinct identity.

That’s a sharp right turn for a series that launched as one of the most unrelentingly terrifying apocalyptic films of the 21st century. This fourth entry actively subverts expectations, balancing bursts of deadpan humor with the lingering cruelty of a world still very much capable of destroying itself. A throwaway aside explaining what the Teletubbies were and how they function is laugh-out-loud funny, yet the film never loses sight of how dangerous humans can be, especially when they aren’t infected at all.

Enter Jimmy, a satanist cult leader played with diabolical glee by Jack O’Connell. He leads a pack of impressionable children who weaponize ritual, belief, and so-called “charity.” O’Connell is having a blast here, chewing the scenery just enough without tipping into parody, and I would be lying if I said I didn’t want to yell “Jimmmmmy!” in homage to his character in “Sinners.” It’s one of the film’s bolder choices, and while it occasionally flirts with excess, DaCosta keeps it grounded by emphasizing the real danger of ideology masquerading as community.

Compared to Boyle’s jacked-up predecessor, which I enjoyed but found exhausting in its relentless punk aggression, “The Bone Temple” feels calm, cool, and confident. DaCosta finds an impressive rhythm, weaving together several intersecting storylines without losing momentum . One follows Jimmy, revealed to be the eight-year-old boy from the opening of the previous film, now grown and fully unhinged, leading a loyal cohort who are also called Jimmy, that, as you’ll remember, intercepted Spike, played by Alfie Williams, at the end of the last film after he left his homestead in search of broader horizons.

The other storyline centers on Dr. Ian Kelson, portrayed by Ralph Fiennes in a stripped-down, no-frills performance that quietly steals the movie. Fiennes plays Kelson as a man held together by conviction and iodine (he’s literally doused in it for protection), and guided by an almost radical empathy. He forms an unlikely bond with Sampson, an infected man or “Alpha” played by former MMA fighter Chi Lewis-Parry, whom Kelson insists on treating as fully human. Sampson likes morphine and gazing at the moon, and there’s something oddly beautiful in the way the film allows him that simplicity. He’s a real one.

Of course, these storylines eventually collide, and when they do, DaCosta punctuates the moment with one of the most absurdly refreshing needle drops in Iron Maiden’s “The Number of the Beast.” The soundtrack choices throughout are inspired with Radiohead and Duran Duran popping up as if to remind us that even the apocalypse deserves a decent mixtape.

Make no mistake, there’s plenty of carnage. An early scene involving Jimmy’s version of “charity” is brutal and deeply unsettling, not for the squeamish or faint of heart. But the real strength of “The Bone Temple” lies in how confidently DaCosta modulates tone, allowing the film to ebb and flow between ruthless violence and genuinely thoughtful meditations on the hive mind, belief systems, and the human need for connection. It’s far less hyper and erratic than Boyle’s previous entry, and that restraint works to its advantage.

If there’s a criticism to be made, it’s that the film occasionally trusts its ideas more than its momentum, lingering just a beat too long on its meditative stretches. But even that feels intentional, a refusal to rush past its themes in favor of spectacle alone. “The Bone Temple” stands as a solid, sturdy continuation of the franchise, one that suggests there may be something better waiting on the horizon for these characters. Perhaps the secret to surviving the end of the world isn’t brute force or blind rage, but the willingness to loosen up, embrace connection, and maybe even dance with the devil.

Grade: B+

28 YEARS LATER: THE BONE TEMPLE is now playing in theaters.