My favorite horror movie of all time is George Romero’s Dawn of the Dead. I’ve waxed poetic about it many times on this blog, but long story short: I love everything about it. When a film becomes exemplary of its genre, I don’t clamor for more. I don’t want endless knock-offs and sequels. Which isn’t to say I did not thoroughly enjoy a handful of other zombie flicks like Day of the Dead, Return of the Living Dead and Shaun of the Dead, but in general, the last thing I actively want for is another zombie movie because—let’s face it—I’m at least halfway to dead myself and I’d rather just watch Dawn again.
When 28 Days Later came along, early internet forums were rife with Negative Nancies confidently stating, “Zombies do not run.” Simon Pegg later poked fun at running zombies, stating, “Death is not an energy drink.” A particularly snide critic in a local paper wrote, “If you can’t afford to make a movie with a decent camera, you can’t afford to make a movie.”
I think the problem with those naysayers is simple: 28 Days Later isn’t even trying to be a zombie movie. 28 Days Later shares more in common with George Romero’s The Crazies than Dawn of the Dead. The distinction is small, but apposite; when Quentin Tarantino said he admired Umberto Lenzi’s Nightmare City as a zombie film, the Italian filmmaker took offense, shouting, “Zombies?! What zombies?! It’s an infected peoples movie!” (Incidentally, here’s my review of Nightmare City, which I think you’ll agree is not a zombie picture even though that’s what producers hired Lenzi to make.) Danny Boyle himself has said his movie is not a zombie movie and he hardly seems like the type who’d watch many of them.
So if 28 Days Later is not a zombie movie, why, then, did I choose to reiterate my affection for George Romero’s 1978 zombie masterpiece at the top of this piece? For one: I can’t resist taking every opportunity to talk about it. Two: Because 28 Days Later is the Dawn of the Dead of infected people movies. It’s exemplary of its genre.
In the opening scene, well-meaning activists break into a Cambridge laboratory. They aim to free the chimpanzees who are undergoing cruel experiments there. What they don’t know is the primates are infected with a virus known as Rage. The moment one gets loose, Rage rapidly spreads across Britain, turning its hosts into primal psychopaths. For all the survivors know, it may have even spread across the entire world.
Jim (Cillian Murphy) wakes up from a coma twenty-eight days after the infection destroyed modern civilization. As he roams the empty British streets, he bumps into a couple of survivors, Selena and Mark, who catch him up to speed. They agree to take him to his parents’ house even though they warn him they’re likely dead (or worse). When Mark is bitten at Jim’s childhood home, Selena doesn’t hesitate to kill him. What’s especially striking about a post-apocalypse picture set in the UK is the relative lack of guns; there’s not always a merciful way to kill an infected companion.
Continuing on, Jim and Selena happen upon two survivors who are holed up in a high-rise apartment: a daughter and her father (Brendan Gleeson). The group of four decide to take a road trip to investigate the source of a radio signal promising salvation. I won’t tell you what happens when they get there, as the climax proves nearly as divisive as Boyle’s third act in Sunshine, but there’s a hopeful middle section in which the survivors bond with one another and even have some fun.
The sequence in Dawn of the Dead that sets it apart from so many horror movies in my mind is after the heroes have successfully fortified the shopping mall. It’s the first time we see them relax since the movie began—the first time there’s a glimmer of hope in the bleak situation. Boyle allows his characters a similar reprieve in his picture. For a brief moment they allow themselves to believe things may be alright, which only makes the subsequent horrors all the more impactful.
This was my first time watching the movie since I saw it in theaters twenty-two years ago. The prosumer camera Boyle’s crew used for most of the picture really did look like shit on the silver screen. It looks much better on televisions as that’s what the camera was made for. The brain is convinced that what it’s seeing is real because it feels less like a polished movie and more like civilian-shot war footage. Now that I hear there’s a 4K UHD on the way, I call shenanigans; you can’t “restore” footage of a movie that was originally shot in 480p, the resolution of a standard DVD (4K has sixteen times the resolution). I fear that whatever method this new edition employs will sacrifice the very identity of this movie. Is Sony really the distributor you trust to archive this flick?
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