Review Category: Movie

Released in 2002, Danny Boyle and Alex Garland’s 28 Days Later breathed new life into the moribund ‘zombie movie’ genre – even though its rage-virus victims weren’t ‘zombies’ in the traditional undead sense. The film was tough, gritty, bleak, and utterly nihilistic, helped in no small part by its digital filming giving it a grainy, almost documentary feel.

2007’s sequel 28 Weeks Later, directed by Juan Carlos Fresnadillo, was an enjoyable if more workmanlike traditional contemporary horror movie, complete with parachuted-in Hollywood movie stars like Jeremy Renner and Rose Byrne.

But now, 23 years after the original (it’s close enough), the Boyle and Garland dream team (or should that be nightmare team?) are back with 28 Years Later, a film that’s very much the spiritual successor to 28 Days Later. It shares the original film’s visceral, uncompromising DNA, primarily employing iPhone Max cameras to create a visual style that evokes 28 Days Later to deliver a film that has little of the gloss and sheen of budget-bloated mainstream genre movies, throwing the audience into a gruelling world of privation, death, disease, and spectacular uber-violence.

28 Years Later is the film that Brexit and the COVID pandemic built. Nearly two decades after the initial rage virus outbreak, the European mainland has kept itself free from infection, and the UK has been isolated and quarantined; survivors of the initial outbreak left to fend for themselves in their broken country.

On an isolated enclave on a small island cut off from the mainland by a single well-defended tidal causeway, Jamie (Aaron Taylor-Johnson) takes his twelve-year old son Spike (Alfie Williams) to the mainland as a sort of rites-of-passage initiation where he will learn how to defend himself and kill the infected that now roam the countryside unhindered. Spike is more concerned for his mother, Isla (Jodie Comer), who is seriously ill; she’s in constant pain and she drifts in and out of both consciousness and lucidity.

On the mainland, Jamie and Spike quickly encounter not just the usual emaciated, festering rage victims but also more evolved Alphas that seem to have developed rudimentary thinking skills, and grotesque, devolved, bloated creatures that squirm across the ground devouring worms and random insect life. Hiding away in an abandoned cottage, they see the glow of a distant fire on the horizon. Returning to the island, Spike learns that the bonfire was created by Ian Kelson (Ralph Fiennes), a former doctor assumed to have gone mad when an earlier expedition from the island witnessed him collecting and then ritualistically incinerating bodies. Spike convinces himself that a doctor may be able to help his ailing mother, and he sneaks back out onto the mainland with Isla in search of Kelson…

28 Years Later is a powerful and deeply affecting movie that has more to offer than just random scenes of the hapless infected being slaughtered. Obviously, there are many well-staged set pieces. Still, they’re very much in service to the story of one small family unit surviving hand-to-mouth in a bitter and unforgiving environment.  This is very much Spike’s story, a young boy forced to become a man in a world that offers nothing but pain and misery. Indeed, the film belongs to Alfie Williams, whose wonderfully naturalistic performance sees him develop from a frightened child into a young adult who steps up when his feckless father inevitably disappoints. It’s an astonishing performance from such a young talent, and there are times, particularly in the final act, when he’ll very likely break your heart.

Taylor-Johnson and Comer are good value – even if both are missing from the film for significant chunks – but Ralph Fiennes inevitably commands the screen as Kelson who, smothered in iodine to keep the effects of the virus at bay, isn’t quite what we might have expected and is doing his bit to keep the spirit of humanity alive.

It’s a raw, biting film that pulls no punches in its depiction of this desperate, ugly world and the terrible dangers and creatures that now inhabit it.  It isn’t perfect, of course – the idea of the UK absolutely isolated and abandoned to its fate seems a bit extreme even in a post-Brexit world, the pace wobbles in one or two places, and the extraordinary wtf? final sequence might be a tonal jolt too much for many. But ultimately, this is Boyle and Garland firing on all cylinders – revisiting a world they created at the turn of the century and finding it, not unlike the real world, a much darker, colder, and unremittingly disturbing place. We’re already counting down the days to the January release of the Bone Palace sequel.

28 YEARS LATER is on general release now.

Following up the stratospheric John Wick: Chapter 4 was always going to be a tall order, so saying Ballerina falls short isn’t so much a criticism as it is an inevitability. That being said, any opportunity to dive into the mystical, violent, and stylish world of John Wick is worth taking. This spin-off, centring on Ana de Armas’s lethal assassin Eve as she sets out for revenge against the cult that killed her father, gets the look right, but the execution is sadly missing. 

Ballerina is occasionally overedited, lacking the bravery to experiment with the camera’s position and duration in a way that grips you by the throat. The sense of humour is also often lacking, and the internal logic of the world feels upended – since when have the general public in these films run away at the sight of fistfights and gunfire? Even a perhaps obligatory yet unnecessary appearance from Mr Wick (Keanu Reeves) himself can’t stave off the feeling that this story is surplus to requirements.

De Armas, however, does her emphatic best to answer back. She puts on a stormer, fuelled by a burning rage that culminates in kills brutal enough to make the Baba Yaga wince. She fits seamlessly into this rich, decadent world and holds a magnetic presence that proves as fixating as it is deadly. Director Len Wiseman, meanwhile (in his first film for almost a decade), doesn’t possess Chad Stahelski’s sheen and polish, but proves why he was handed the reins. Such is the quality of the John Wick mythos that even a decidedly average spin-off sticks out amongst the box office crowd. 

BALLERINA is in cinemas now.

Quinn (Katie Douglas) and her father (Aaron Abrams) have moved to the small town of Kettle Springs, famous for its corn syrup and yearly founder’s day celebrations. There also happens to be a serial killer dressed as the local icon Frendo the Clown, mascot for the Baypen syrup company. Making new friends (who are known for making prank videos, much to the annoyance of the locals), Quinn is drawn to the son of the town’s leader (Kevin Durand, chomping the scenery like a less evil Elon Musk), but his affections could be elsewhere. While the rest of the town celebrates, the group find themselves in the middle of a bloodbath.

Director Eli Craig (Tucker and Dale vs Evil) blends the scares with humour that, while not as laugh-out-loud as his previous cult hit (one highlight has the Gen Z-ers not knowing how to work a rotary phone), keeps things amusing enough to make it worth recommending. It’s suitably gory, too, without going too far into nasty territory. Craig’s film (from a script co-written with Carter Blanchard and from the novel by Ghost Game’s Adam Cesare) embraces genre clichés, such as the ‘grown-ups’ of the town expressing an intolerance to the teens, and knowingly toys with our expectations but without playing the meta card. Packed with sharp dialogue and impressive performances (Douglas being particularly good), this one doesn’t clown around.

CLOWN IN A CORNFIELD is in cinemas on June 6th.

Man proves to be the world’s most dangerous animal in the latest thriller from The Loved Ones and The Devil’s Candy director Sean Byrne. One man specifically: Bruce Tucker, played by former Captain Boomerang Jai Courtney. Childhood shark bite survivor Tucker has a fetish for two things in life – feeding women to sharks, and VHS technology.

American beach bum Zephyr (Hassie Harrison) falls into Tucker’s clutches while chasing waves at a remote Australian beach. Bundled onto his boat, she meets UK kidnap victim and eventual chum Heather (Ella Newton), who became his captive during a shark dive gone wrong. Clambering aboard his boat during the film’s opening sequence, Heather sees Tuck’s bloodthirst firsthand, as he casually dumps the man she just met into the sharks’ feeding ground… and then rings the dinner bell.

What follows is a desperate fight for survival as Zephyr and Heather attempt to escape Tucker’s dungeon before he can turn them into shark bait. Between its genial Australian serial killer and his niche obsessions, Dangerous Animals is like Wolf Creek by way of Death Proof. Byrne’s oft-revisited theme of a terrified captive (last seen in Devil’s Candy) attempting to escape a demented kidnapper once again rears its head. There’s at least one thwarted escape attempt too many, but Harrison’s plucky survivor at least sets Dangerous Animals apart from the great swathes of horror films about kidnapped and abused women out there.

Alternating between shocking violence and charming comedy (employing the best use of Baby Shark in a film since Pinkfong), Dangerous Animals is a smart and creative version of the serial killer thriller, featuring lush cinematography and vibrant performances. It’s also refreshing to see a shark film in which the shark isn’t necessarily the bad guy. That’s all man – and what a man. In Bruce Tucker, Jai Courtney delivers the performance of his career, joining Harrison’s Zephyr as 2025’s best villain and final girl, respectively.

Letting the side down is lovelorn Moses (Josh Heuston), who grows obsessed with finding Zephyr after a one-night stand in her van. Convinced that there’s more at play than mere ghosting, Moses launches a dogged campaign of stalking which would be seen as creepy if he weren’t essentially right. There’s nothing wrong with Heuston’s performance, but it feels unnecessary in a film with such a tenacious and spirited leading lady. It also serves to dilute the evenly matched battle of wits between Tucker and Zephyr. Its final act is appropriately bloody and exciting, but there’s no hiding the sinking feeling that Dangerous Animals could have harnessed its more bonkers side to deliver something nastier and altogether stranger.

In denying its more primal instincts, the film charts a more conventional course, jettisoning the Ozploitation energy it briefly possessed. Ah, well, we’ll always have The Surfer.

DANGEROUS ANIMALS is out in UK cinemas from June 6th, 2025.

Every exorcism cliché one can imagine is summoned up in this religious horror film by David Midell. A troubled priest (David Steiger, played by Dan Stevens) suffers a crisis of faith when he’s confronted with an apparent case of demonic possession – young Emma (Abigail Cowen) is stuffed full of demonic entities, and the Bishop wants to use David’s parish to stage the exorcism.

Better call Father Theophilus Riesinger (Al Pacino, channelling Russell Crowe in The Pope’s Exorcist), who comes armed with a box of ropes and a headful of sacred rites. It’s all a bit much for the recently bereaved David, who soon begins to question Riesinger’s methods after witnessing Emma’s violent reaction to religious scripture. So far, so The Exorcist. 

Being based on a real-life case, we can forgive The Ritual its relatively grounded approach to the subgenre, eschewing levitations and a body count in favour of some mild wall-crawling (during the opening sequence, in the film’s only good scare) and yanked out tufts of hair. Fresh from impressing in Abigail, Stevens gives a stuffed-collar performance as dubious David, reigning in the more manic energy we know him to be capable of. That’s up to Pacino and his wandering accent, although even he’s more restrained than he has been in the past.

Repetitive in structure and themes, it’s a po-faced slog through the dustiest of exorcism routines, featuring gravel-voiced swearing (but nothing too obscene), vomiting (but not too voluminous) and crises of faith (but nothing that can’t be overcome).

If it possesses anything, it’s a well-sustained atmosphere of doom and gloom, but the ugly visuals and sleepy performances are about as exciting as a particularly dull sermon you’ve heard many times before. Less of a ritual, more of a chore.

THE RITUAL is out in UK cinemas now.

Taking a cue from Game of Thrones and Excalibur, writer/director Lawrie Brewster stays within the medieval genre for this ambitious sword and sorcery tale that mixes Shakespearian melodrama with Lovecraftian horror.

Queen Ginnarra (Megan Tremethick), an enigmatic, fearsome ruler who seized power from her father, fears her exiled brother, Prince Elderon (Andrew Gourlay), will return to de-throne her. She uses dark, cosmic magic (and dragons) to keep Elderon and his army from wreaking vengeance and taking his rightful place.

Boasting impressive fight sequences and plenty of ponderous, wordy dialogue, Brewster stretches the film’s modest budget as far as possible. The cast carries everything well, with Tremethick impressing with a captivating, subtle performance. The physical elements – sets, costuming, etc. – wouldn’t look out of place in a Hollywood blockbuster, with only the CG dragons showing the limitations of the movie’s finances. This also means crowd scenes and the extended armies are realised via AI, which can be a little jarring as they stand out against the rest of the film’s colour grading. These moments come across as surreal ‘living’ pictures, which add an otherworldly element. It’s a shame they’re overused.

With such a grandiose screenplay, it’s understandable that the film runs around two and a half hours. However, some people will have their patience stretched without the Peter Jackson budget or the benefit of a weekly part-work format. That said, it’s a bold endeavour that succeeds more than it falters and could easily sit in the pantheon of medieval epics.

 

British-Iranian director Babak Anvari, best known for 1980s Tehran-set horror Under the Shadow, shifts setting to modern-day Britain for Hallow Road, while maintaining the unnerving tone of real-life horror meeting the supernatural.

The film begins late at night in the home of paramedic Maddie (Rosamund Pike) and her husband Frank (Matthew Rhys); their daughter Alice (Megan McDonnell) has earlier stormed out following a tense family dinner. They receive a phone call from a distraught Alice – she has hit someone with her car and needs her parents’ help. The rest of the film plays out in Maddie’s car, as she and Frank race towards the suitably dark and creepy forest where the incident occured.

This single-location setup is used to great effect, with William Gillies’ script throwing multiple twists into the narrative that prevent it ever feeling slow. Key to this is a growing tension between the two parents, who disagree on how to handle the situation. Maddie, brutally honest, wants to encourage Alice to do everything possible to save the girl’s life, even if it means accepting responsibility. Frank wants to tell his daughter what she wants to hear, and help preserve her promising future. And just when it seems that tension has reached its peak, someone else arrives at the scene before Maddie and Frank – but who exactly is it?

With its only fault being some slightly overdramatic dialogue in this final act threatening to derail the realism, Hallow Road uses its gradually building horror conceit to interrogate how forgiving a parent should be of their child. The film retains a pleasing sense of ambiguity, never giving a firm answer to either this thematic question or to the true nature of the events that take place. But stick around to read the credits and you’ll spot a vital clue (if you hadn’t twigged it already). This is a creepy, tense horror, in a pleasingly tight 80 minutes.

HALLOW ROAD is in UK cinemas now.

The midnight movie cult has obtained a new sheen. OBEX takes the aesthetics of late-20th-century screen technology combined with modern indie B-movie special effects to create an adventure with horror elements. Its charm comes from the surreality of the special effects and the winking acknowledgement of the tropes of old school computer gaming. Like recent films in the same vein, the film depends upon a shared language with nerdom to elevate its simplistic storytelling into style.

The story itself gains potency from that same simplicity. Conor, a recluse whose life revolves around the televisions and computer monitors scattered throughout his home, has his life challenged by a video game that claims it can place him into the game. Of course, strange and supernatural events occur that blur the line between game and reality. The game becomes a psychological inquiry of what led to Conor’s retreat into media, forcing him to think outside the box of his screens.

While it is charming and small in a YouTube-video-filmed-in-the-woods kind of way, OBEX looks so cute in the far more expressive shadows of those it is compared to. Its cold camerawork, tone setting cuts to fascinating details, and pointed storytelling points feel like a performance of its inspirations without knowing what made Eraserhead or The Legend of Zelda work in their mediums.

Additionally, the film’s story is unemotional and simple, with only the performance of casual personability and deeper trauma exploring truth. Its scrappy special effects make it a worthwhile midnight screening, but the core story lacks tenderness and overly relies on simplistic referencing.

If you’re looking for a video game-inspired midnight romp, seek out Hundreds of Beavers, a better executed example, before you circle back for this lovely but lesser work.