28 Years Later Sets Up a Battle Between Two Visions of Britain

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Approximately thirty years after making a splash as the rebellious prodigy of the music video era, Danny Boyle has matured into one of contemporary Britain’s most esteemed storytellers. Known for his groundbreaking work such as “Trainspotting” that encapsulated the vivacious spirit of the mid-’90s, and the grandiose opening ceremony of the 2012 London Olympics, a spectacle of pre-Brexit national pride, Boyle has solidified his status. His latest production, titled “28 Years Later,” jointly created with writer Alex Garland, represents the most refined expression yet of Boyle’s ongoing exploration of British identity. In essence, this post-apocalyptic thriller subtly sets the stage for a struggle between two contrasting interpretations of Britishness: Traditional Britain, characterized by its humble and stoic demeanor steeped in history, and a corrupted version of Modern Britain, inhabited by pop culture enthusiasts with warped moral compasses.

The story unfolds in a time close to the future, following decades after Britain suffered a zombie outbreak depicted in the initial film. Although remnants of the pre-virus era are still somewhat fresh in people’s minds, it has been long enough for separate groups of survivors to establish their own mini societies. One such settlement is the island where our young protagonist Spike (Alfie Williams) resides with his parents, Jamie (Aaron Taylor Johnson) and Isla (Jodie Comer). The film incorporates substantial CGI, yet the island is a real location: Lindisfarne, also known as Holy Island, an isolated landmass off the north coast of England that can only be reached from the mainland during low tide.

In this story, Lindisfarne isn’t just incidentally placed. Historically significant, this location has been crucial to ancient British lore, serving as a nurturer for Christianity during the tumultuous post-Roman era and one of Britain’s initial encounters with Vikings. Fortunately, the creatures in “28 Years Later” haven’t mastered longboats yet, allowing the island community to persist, even though they remain on constant alert. The visual elements in these island scenes seem inspired by World War II Britain. Residing in a secluded sanctuary that lies beyond the reach of ongoing violence and destruction, the islanders bear a striking resemblance to the nation’s idealized self-image during wartime. Consequently, the community on Holy Island embodies in many ways the resilient spirit of the Blitz, highlighting the value of collective sacrifice.

As a movie enthusiast, I must express that Boyle and Garland have a knack for imbuing Holy Island scenes with a sense of profound antiquity. A pivotal moment in the film occurs when Jamie and Spike venture onto the mainland for the first time. In a brilliant stroke, Boyle transitions to a swift montage of historical footage from British military history and snippets from Laurence Olivier’s Henry V, a WWII propaganda piece. This is accompanied by a recording of Rudyard Kipling’s poem “Boots”, read by actor Taylor Holmes over a century ago. The intention here is to establish Jamie and Spike as part of an enduring lineage of soldiers, reaching back through the centuries.

To put it another way, this scene isn’t just about two more heroes embarking on a sea voyage to complete their tasks; rather, Holmes’s impassioned recitation, coupled with the fact that their mission now involves slaying zombies who are merely crawling along the ground, imparts an unsettling resonance to the imperial undertones.

In this society of the island, there’s a strong feeling that its residents have discovered an ancient, enduring Britishness within themselves. Since they lack modern technology, the islanders are compelled to use medieval weapons, such as the longbow often used by English armies during the time of King Henry V. Additionally, there are subtle indications that they may have returned to a form of traditional folklore, as suggested by the eerie masks they utilize – a pale face with red eyes, which might symbolize the constant threat posed by the Infected or could be part of a humiliation ritual. Boyle and Garland’s work is in dialogue with what English actor and author Mark Gatiss describes as “folk horror.” Although the term can encompass films from various countries, for Gatiss, folk horror is a particular cinematic subgenre that originated in the U.K. during the ’60s and ’70s and is characterized by an intense fascination with the British countryside, its terrors, and superstitions. Films like The Wicker Man or the cult classic Witchfinder General exemplify this genre. Modern examples include Ben Wheatley’s A Field in England, though many folk-horror films could be called A Field in England.

As Jamie and Spike step foot on the mainland, I found myself equally captivated by the movie’s exploration of the natural world. Director Boyle meticulously showcases the raw beauty of the North East, from the dense, untouched forests to the vibrant rapeseed fields, not forgetting the mesmerizing northern lights overhead. He even incorporates England’s most iconic tree into the narrative. Later, Spike and Isla will pass by the Angel of the North statue, reflecting on how its presence transcends time, binding everyone who gazes upon it, whether they lived in the distant past or centuries from now. This landscape, much like that iconic tree, seems to outlast civilization itself—a testament to nature’s resilience and endurance, even in the face of human decay. Unfortunately, I learned after the movie was made, that very tree was felled by local vandals.

The scenario remains consistent throughout the movie until the very end, where Boyle and Garland introduce an alternate vision of post-apocalyptic Britain. During his time on the mainland, Spike comes to realize that there are other human survivors in the region besides the islanders. Dr. Kelson (Ralph Fiennes) is one such survivor who strives for harmony with the zombies and promotes the idea of transience. However, at the brink of the film’s conclusion, an unexpected change in tone occurs as Jimmy (Jack O’Connell) appears on the scene. Jimmy represents a type of Britishness that contrasts significantly with the Heritage ideal, serving as a caricature of contemporary Britain, as if it had been preserved in amber since 2002, the year 28 Days Later was released.

In a surprising turn of events, a group of individuals, all sharing the same name, appear right before the ending credits to rescue Spike from turning into a zombie’s meal. Dressed in identical tracksuits, a fashion trend that was incredibly popular among youth in Nottingham during summer 2002, they were undeniably the epitome of coolness in Britain at that time. Pop culture is their native language; they mastered their fighting skills from the Power Rangers and their theme song is a heavy metal rendition of the Teletubbies theme. The movie includes a darkly humorous reference to their name and appearance, as they’ve modeled themselves after Jimmy Savile, a well-known BBC entertainer who was later exposed as a serial child predator following his death in 2011.

It’s evident that the Jimmys aren’t the type of people you’d want to encounter during a zombie apocalypse, even if we hadn’t heard rumors about their pastime being torture. They are often criticized as a negative change in Britain since better times (whenever they existed). They are violent, disrespectful, and immature adults with no real community or interests beyond the media they consume. Just like Boyle and Garland’s work, this type of horror is part of a well-known British horror genre called “Broken Britain” films from the late 2000s. Movies such as Harry Brown capitalized on fears of a violent youth subculture – sometimes referred to as chavs, hoodies, or ASBOs – preying on adults. If the Jimmys play a larger role in the upcoming sequel to 28 Years Later titled The Bone Temple by Nia DaCosta, this could spell trouble.

There’s a striking contrast between the residents of the island and the Jimmys. To put it another way, the island appears to be entirely populated by people of European descent, whereas the Jimmys encompass a wide range of ethnicities similar to modern-day Britain. This serves as a reminder that the idealized image of Traditional Britain, which has been promoted politically, is far from impartial. The 1980s under Thatcher were marked by nostalgia for the past war days, and in the lead-up to Brexit, the Leave campaign effectively exploited the image of a secluded, self-governing island. Traditional Britain may be how the U.K. portrays itself globally, but the Jimmys, who are often marginalized within British culture, also have an equal right to embody the authentic national identity. Sadly, we’ll only find out which one prevails in the next chapter.

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2025-07-03 16:55