Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal believes he is the son of Satan. His followers are all called Jimmy; they wear long blond wigs; they obey his orders; they repeat the phrase “How’s That?” in unison after him. He is in his mid-thirties, he wears a black shell suit and a gold necklace with a upside-down crucifix just above his abdomen, his fingers are adorned with multiple rings of different designs, he has well-groomed stubble and terrible teeth, he is handsome and charismatic, he is fond of sitting on a throne, he uses his hands expressively while he talks; he is completely mad.
“28 Years Later: The Bone Temple” (Columbia Pictures), showing now at the Montrose Playhouse, is designed as a neat binary 0-1-0-1-0-1 between the adventures of the Jimmys—Sir Lord and his “fingers”—and a mysterious doctor who has built a temple of skulls of humans killed by the infection which has completely overwhelmed the U.K. This productive organisational scheme mostly provides cover for the surprisingly thin plotting of the new movie, the fourth in the series, by developing two separate stories at the same time, towards a climax where the Jimmys meet the Doctor for a showdown.
The Doctor, played by Ralph Fiennes, who doesn’t appear to like washing, instead covering himself in iodine solution which turns his skin orange, has somehow managed to befriend one of the “infecteds,” an “alpha” named Samson. “This is interesting,” the Doctor says. “I’m going to trust you Samson. It’s a quid pro quo.” He pauses. “Suddenly I’m not sure you understand Latin.” He pauses again. “Thank God, you do.” Because the filmmakers decided that the infecteds cannot speak, much of the Doctor’s half of the film is written as monologue such as this. The Doctor and Samson sit and walk and dance together; Samson, who is completely naked throughout the film, follows the Doctor around the place, eschewing his normal diet of raw human brain. The Doctor is curious whether the infection replaces or “lives over” the mind. He “follows the science,” we might say. He lives in hope, solution, trying over and over, not giving up.
Meanwhile, Spike, played by Alfie Williams, the fifteen-year-old teen-ager from the first instalment, which I reviewed in June, kills and replaces one of the Jimmys (he later makes short work of an infected with a knife). The “group of wanderers” enters a farmhouse and captures the family that live there. They were “brought in and nourished in both stomach and heart,” as Sir Lord, played by Jack O’Connell, says. “Are we not welcome?” “No you’re not,” says one of the family. “Well, we know now,” says Sir Lord. “Are you going to leave?” the family member asks. “Yes,” Sir Lord replies. “But obviously we’re going to kill you first.” Mayhem ensues, and the family are hung up and gutted like cows in an abattoir as part of a process of “charity” (an odd descriptor for murder, explained later in the film).
Part of the Doctor’s strategy is to get Samson addicted to “the opiate peace you had found with me.” But “if there was just some way you could give consent.” Presumably drugging the whole population of infecteds isn’t possible. Despite this ethical conundrum, the interaction between the Doctor and Samson is gentle, compassionate, redemptive, peace-seeking—they find a way to communicate as if one has arrived on the planet of the other. “This is a memorial to the dead,” the Doctor says of his bone temple. “It’s like a graveyard.”
By comparison the Jimmys are violent, lawless and cruel—led by a man who uses the everyone-for-themselves crisis as an excuse to form the murderous death cult which he always wanted to lead. He convinces his followers that the Doctor is his father (the actual Satan) but, when Sir Jimmy meets the Doctor, the Doctor says, “You can relax, I’m not Satan.” Sir Lord is the satanist and the Doctor is the atheist. “You believe all this zombie shite was caused by science,” he tells the Doctor. Well, yes.
The film showcases the British rural landscape beautifully. (The people of Newcastle and Northumberland are thanked in the closing credits.) One strangely thought-provoking shot—certainly not an accident—includes a row of electricity pylons, still standing despite the power having been off for nearly three decades. It is in the countryside that the battle against the infecteds is being fought. The soundtrack is first rate: much of the classical music comprises of soft chords reminiscent of the Four Seasons, by Vivaldi and “The Number of the Beast,” by Iron Maiden, is used as the soundtrack for the finale.
This final set-piece at the bone temple is a gripping and deeply impressive few minutes of filmmaking. A ring of fire has been created around the temple itself, with wooden poles sticking out of the ground in every direction. It reminded me of a set commonly used in the kind of circus that doesn’t involve animals. There are numerous lanterns bedecking the memorial and dotted around the circle. Inside the ring, the Doctor, acting as if he is Satan, stands with the huge skull tower behind him. The “sacrifice that is going on tonight” is a fabulous scene with a number of small twists at the end.
Undoubtedly seeing last June’s instalment makes understanding the current release easier as this film takes off where that one ended. Spike and the Doctor met during that film; mid-way through the ring-of-fire scene they recognise each other. Spike’s friend, another of the Jimmys, is intrigued. “You two know each other,” she says. Turning to the Doctor, she adds, “You put on a really good show tonight.” Smiling, the Doctor replies, simply, “Thank you.”
Adam Poole
16th January 2026
If you are interested in viewing this screening, please book your tickets here
