Reviews
’28 Years Later’ Review: Boyle’s Bold Return Falls Just Short of Greatness
Sometimes, seeing a director after they’ve taken a break feels like seeing an old friend. It’s been six years roughly since we’ve seen Danny Boyle in the director’s chair, and about eight since his last truly compelling film (apologies to the Beatles centric rom-com Yesterday, but Battle of the Sexes was just more gripping). So, when the trailer for 28 Years Later came out, it really did feel like seeing an old friend. It didn’t hurt that it was backed by a very crackly and very effective recording of the ominous Rudyard Kipling poem “Boots”, a piece about a British soldier slowly going insane. The preview we got cemented the vibe of the film we were going to get: it’s decades later and the war hasn’t ended, its only changed.
28 Years Later does succeed in reuniting audiences with the filmmaker that they love, and in telling a story of war—though it’s a battle within we get for the most part, and there are some directorial caveats limiting how truly great the film can be.
A Moving Coming Of Age Through The Apocalypse
It was an easy out for 28 Years Later to become one of those embarrassing nostalgia trips riddling the theatrical landscape nowadays (threatening to play John Murphy’s classic “28 Theme” as fanfare while Cillian Murphy steps out of a bunker to remind you what film series you’re watching).
It thankfully avoids that pitfall. At least, it has so far—we still have two movies to go, which this film makes very clear in its final, and truly most insane scene.
28 Years also quietly sidesteps the failures of its very weak predecessor, 28 Weeks Later, a film that felt cartoonishly eager to capitalize on the original film’s success. Instead, this returns to its roots in actually making you feel something for its characters. The movie follows young son Spike (Alfie Williams) and grizzled father Jamie (Aaron Taylor-Johnson) going on a mission beyond the walls of their isolated village on Lindisfarne, also known as Holy Mission Island.
Lindisfarne: A Unique Setting in 28 Years Later
With Lindisfarne separated from a quarantined England by a narrow causeway that sinks at high tide, the duo crosses the landbridge to go hunting on the mainland of the United Kingdom. Though it should bring them closer together, their relationship is only strained by the return as Spike insists on going back into the wild to find someone who can help his sick mother Isla (Jodie Comer).
Writer turned director turned back to writer Alex Garland has also returned with Boyle. The writer for the original 28 Days Later, here he paints an empathetic picture of a real, human conflict between Jamie and Spike. 28 Years Laterbecomes just as much a fight between tradition and the desire to break away from it as it is a fight between family members. It’s a struggle against life and death itself, with the tools not only being limited to bows and arrows.
Though the physical conflict comes from mutated virus hosts, some turned into muscular and monstrous “Alpha” infected in the years following the initial outbreak, Garland’s story of a young boy coping with the dissolution of his family, growing up, and trying to find hope in a hopeless situation is simple while still being biting in how real it can get, with a sincere and bloody coming of age story through the apocalypse being the result.
Alfie Williams and Aaron-Taylor Johnson Steal the Show
The young Alfie Williams who plays Spike is incredibly compelling in his role, depicting a real sense of anger and confusion that makes you forget he isn’t a veteran actor at points. He plays his role, a child whose inexperience is wrestling with his own determination and anger, like an expert. Likewise, Taylor-Johnson’s time onscreen as Jamie makes you really appreciate how uncomfortably real his character can get, being frustrating and sympathetic in his deeply flawed nature.
Jodie Comer has some phenomenal moments as Spike’s mother Isla, with one standout scene where her sickness has fully taken a toll on her mind. Unfortunately, the film doesn’t explore her character nearly as much as it could have, and the same can be said for Ralph Fiennes’ character, who despite being so forward in the promotional materials is not on screen nearly long enough. Ultimately, the story is brought home in spite of these weaknesses, depicted beautifully in cinematography that is nothing like what we’ve gotten from Boyle previously.
A Glut of Odd Editing Choices Blur Boyle’s Vision
The astounding directing Boyle brings to the table to depict this conflict, however, is pockmarked with truly bizarre editing choices. The use of shuddering 360 camera shots to display the infected being pierced by arrows is a small symptom of this, and can be reasoned away as a narrative decision instead of a clumsy technical exhibition. But then, these choices become more and more frequent.
A more prevalent example of these problems is the poor choice to splice in archival footage of England during wartime and medieval archers, haphazardly grafted onto pivotal moments early on in the film while our leads are out in the bloody and wide open unknown. This is also where the film decides to use that iconic audio of Rudyard Kipling’s “Boots” that made the trailer so effective, to eye-rolling results; it moves like a car breaking sharply and jerking to stop. It’s just not a narratively strong enough thread with the films weakly dispersed anti-war sentiments to justify bringing the movie to a halt so we can see these images.
An abrupt and awkwardly cut zombie attack in the final third of the film, scattered red tinted night vision shots from the infected point of view that are far and few between, and Fiennes absence makes me feel like quite a bit of material was cut from the film and reordered. And whether that material removed for time will see the light of day in a director’s cut or in a sequel means very little for the film we have at hand.
Why 28 Years Later Falls Just Short of Greatness
The fact is that 28 Years Later is a very compelling film at its core, but it is noticeably dragged down under the weight of its stylistic choices. Its potential is burdened by its editing, leaving you with a film that is thrilling and emotionally developed in the best of ways, sincere and even powerful at times, but just shy of being truly great.
Every once in a while, a festival film oozes with so much craft that it’s hard to believe it exists. I’ve only seen a handful of films on the circuit that filled me with seething jealousy that I didn’t come up with them first. Films like All Jacked Up and Full of Worms and Jimmy & Stiggs are two of the main films that come to mind. As I round out my coverage for this year’s Chattanooga Film Festival, I inadvertently ended with a film that rivals American Theater for my Best of the Fest. Donnie Hobbie’s Jump Scare truly astounds on nearly all fronts and shows how to pay homage to the films (and filmmakers) that are beloved, while still remaining original and unique.
What is Jump Scare About?
The metal band known as Jump Scare, comprised of Val (Chelsea Talmadge), Jen (Erin Ruth Walker), Kye (Shannon Dang), and Debbie (Madison Abbott), head to a cabin in the middle of the desert to work on their latest album. Little do they know that their closest neighbors are a hellbilly’s worst nightmare. One by one, Jump Scare gets smaller and smaller as the neighbors reveal their true horrors. But the band doesn’t take too kindly to the onslaught of violence brought towards them. Metal may not be dead, but Jump Scare might be very soon.
How Did We Get Here?
Writer/director Donnie Hobbie’s Jump Scare is a truly unique piece of genre that pushes the boundaries of good taste in some fascinating ways. Hobbie’s distinct style blends homage and originality in a way Tarantino could only wish for. What’s fun about Jump Scare is how you can truly feel the love for the films considered ‘inspired by’ while still being able to see and feel Hobbie’s personal style. Jump Scare is a dash of Tarantino, Rob Zombie, and Panos Cosmatos, with a heaping spoonful of Hobbie. But in saying that, I fully acknowledge that only Panos Cosmatos could make a film as great as Donnie Hobbie.
Hobbie’s adrenaline-fueled story is not only expertly crafted, but chock-full of blood, guts, and viscera; it’s the epitome of a midnight movie. From blood geysers, hammers to heads, and shotguns galore, Jump Scare has a kill for everyone. While the effects, both practical and digital, make the film a blast to watch, it’s the performance of the main cast that sells this film. Have you ever watched a film and thought, “No one else could ever play this role”? That’s exactly how I feel about Jump Scare‘s cast. Every single actor was perfectly cast, and I can’t picture this film without every single one of them.
The Deeper Meaning Within Jump Scare
Not only is Jump Scare visually entertaining, but it has a deeper message that may become easily lost within the chainsaws and hammers. The running commentary in the film centers around the question “is metal dead”? This comes on the heels of the idea of sampling within metal music. When sampling comes up, the idea of art theft is broached. And this got me thinking. Jump Scare‘s antagonists are cannibals, and, if you think about it, sampling is a form of art theft. And what is art theft if not a form of self-cannibalism?
Jump Scare weirdly embodies this analogue of art theft = cannibalism. When art STOPS being original, when artistry is stripped away, are we not just creating more of the same? That’s why mainstream music, a la songs heard on any IHEARTRADIO station, doesn’t sit well with many people. That’s not to say sampling (or paying homage) is bad by any means. It’s when the main appeal of your song (or film) is solely predicated on work done [better] by others that came before, then what the hell are we doing?
Proper Homage vs. Soulless Ripoffs
That’s why Jump Scare works so well. There’s one particular scene that could easily be described as Hobbie’s version of the ear scene in Reservoir Dogs. But even in this explicitly blatant reference, Hobbie still makes it his own. Every time you watch one of those YouTube compilations that shows the original version and Tarantino’s version next to each other, it’s nearly impossible to tell the difference. It’s where substance and style clash. I love a Tarantino film (not the man) as much as the next person, but it’s impossible to watch one of his films without questioning, “which filmmaker did he steal this from?” While watching Jump Scare, you can pick out the inspiration without feeling bogged down by a soulless ripoff.
Jump Scare surprised me until the very last second, something that films struggle to do nowadays. God, I sound old. If you’re looking for a truly insane double feature, you could easily pair this film with Chainsaws Were Singing or All Jacked Up and Full of Worms. But if you just want to see the most truly surprising Eric Roberts cameo, then Jump Scare will fill that void for you.
Brandon Cronenberg’s Infinity Pool has aged like fine wine. Sour, very dry, sickening wine. That’s not a crack on its quality, mind you. It’s moreover an observation of its embittering social relevance and how hard to swallow it really is in its best moments. And at its best, Infinity Pool is a bleak tale of bizzarro technology and even more bizarre people that most noticeably channels the soul of films like Brian Yuzna’s Society (though dialing the camp of that slimy feature way, way back).
Author James Foster (Alexander Skarsgard) vacations to an island resort in the nation of Li Tolqa in search of inspiration for his next book. When he and his wife Em meet a couple, they’re quickly lured by them into a prohibited excursion outside of the resort’s grounds. But on James’ drive back from the countryside, he kills a pedestrian in a hit and run accident. After he’s quickly arrested for the murder and jailed, he finds out about the draconian revenge-killing laws of Li Tolqa—and of the sickening high-tech workaround he can pay for to avoid his death.
Why You Might Not Remember Much About Infinity Pool
If you don’t remember Infinity Pool as much more than “that film Brandon Cronenberg did after Possessor”, I can’t say I blame you. It was a 2023 release that got smothered early on in the year. Not only by a lack of an audience thanks to lackluster marketing, but by the absolute behemoth that was released only a few days prior to it: Skinamarink.
That dark, mumbly miracle experiment effectively swallowed all the surrounding releases of that January into itself and erased all the doors and windows out. Infinity Pool never really stood a chance. Which is a shame because between the two, for my money at least, Infinity Pool was the more disturbing offering despite its very straightforward storytelling and lack of experimental visuals.
A Tale of Class and Cruelty in Infinity Pool
Those who have seen Infinity Pool might argue with me on that last point. Sure, there are psychedelic sequences of hallucinogenic madness. Exhibitions of cruelty that feel more like nightmares than reality in the way they’re staged. But I wouldn’t quite count them as experimental; especially when a lot of the style is being pulled from what Cronenberg mastered in Possessor. And their kaleidoscopic array of blurred images, smeared light, and psychosexual shots isn’t really the main draw here.
Infinity Pool really shines when it’s painting in the neutral tones of luxury and then contrasting those beiges and browns with harsh splatters of blood red and rotten soul black. It’s in how it transitions from observing the mundane nature of the ultra-wealthy vacationing in Li Tolqa to allowing us to peer into what’s really inside of them.
Infinity Pool Exposes the Moral Rot of Wealth and Privilege
We watch what happens when they’re allowed to commit crimes with no restraint; more frighteningly, it lets us see that that consequence is more of a reward for their bad behavior than it is a trade-off. On paper, the premise feels comically simple. We’re all well aware of the cushy insulation wealth allows the rich to evade due punishment for their crimes. But Infinity Pool is a real mask-off moment that examines the unfettered cruelty that insulation affords.
It really does feel like seeing people go beyond the pale and it questions the ideological motives behind that evil. Is it a pursuit of strength, or a pursuit of entertainment? How detached from reality are our ultra-rich killers on vacation? Or is this actually a reality in its own right, a constructed one built on pure cash flow and amorality? Is it any more illegitimate than the capital that allowed it to exist in the first place? On paper, simple, but in execution the questions it asks are surprisingly interesting.
An All-Star Performance by Mia Goth
The characters trying to pull James into their circle of bad influence are, of course, shallow and inhuman by nature. The only one who offers any sort of puzzle is Mia Goth’s character Gabi, one half of the couple that lures James and Em out of the resort as the inciting incident. Even when her motives appear to be clear, Goth’s performance and line deliveries find new ways to spiral into a whirlpool of oddity that keeps you guessing.
Alexander Skarsgard, on the other hand is playing a very passive character in James. His performance mainly consists of reacting and being pulled deeper and deeper into the energetic spiral that Goth generates. This isn’t preferable since he doesn’t have many standout moments and is dry with many of his reactions, to say the least. That being said, it becomes quickly apparent that James himself has very little sense of self and is an empty vessel for any sort of drive or emotion. The question then becomes what is going to fill that emptiness inside of him, if it even can be filled. Which is why, by the film’s final frames, the answer is downright bleak.
Cronenberg Tackles Neo-colonialism and Orientalism
If there’s one final thing I have to praise, it’s what Cronenberg thematically explores through the use of the setting. The island resort and its parasitic relationship with the nation of Li Tolqa is my personal highlight of the film. It’s a horror show about how the bloated hands of neo-colonialism and orientalism choke countries and cultures to death in the pursuit of cheap thrills.
It generates some really great moments of dark humor but doesn’t get lost in what it’s trying to say. While the quest for carnal desires and questions of class divide are center stage, the phantom of colonialist powers and how they interface with their subject countries haunts the narrative the same way it haunts our real world. I just wish that it was more thoroughly integrated into the plot and its resolution, because by the third act it’s all but drained out.
Nonetheless, what Brandon Cronenberg made here is undoubtedly a sci-fi horror flint knife that saws through flesh and gnaws at the bone, not stopping its motion until it cuts through or breaks against the sensibilities of its viewer. Infinity Pool might not have gotten the attention it deserved at the box office, but its gouache approach to its subject matter and enduring relevance almost guarantee it a cult following in the coming years.
