fter a brutal initiation, young Spike (Alfie Williams) becomes one of Sir Jimmy Crystal’s (Jack O’Connell) “fingers,” a gang of seven hardened youths who wander the zombie-filled English countryside in search of unsuspecting still-human victims to brutalize for their deranged master. Meanwhile, Dr. Ian Kelson (Ralph Fiennes) continues his research on the rage virus at his sequestered ossuary, during which, in moments of both desperation and faith, he attempts to connect with an infected gargantuan nicknamed Samson (Chi Lewis-Parry). When Jimmy and his murderous followers stumble upon Kelson and his sanctuary of bones, a clash of wills ensues that will reshape the future of the living and the dead.

Whereas the previous picture retained its use of zombies as the primary antagonists, this immediate follow-up dabbles in human villainy. For anyone who thought the introduction of Jimmy and his goons was a goofy sort of genre switch-up at the prior finale, their actions here will certainly shift perspectives; they’re exceptionally nasty, though not often in a cleverly cinematic way. Ironically, though properties like “The Walking Dead” surely benefitted from the existence of an influential precursor like “28 Days Later,” it is now this fourth entry that nods toward those same, subsequent endeavors; it’s as if by resorting to humans fighting other humans, the filmmakers here believe that they’re adding something new to the franchise, when in fact they’re making it more derivative of copycats.

It still examines how society and humanity break down in the absence of structure and order, particularly when young people have no education or guidance, extrapolating on the potential for anarchy and rebellion (perhaps like in “A Clockwork Orange”). With so many pockets of civilization still thriving across the forested landscape (something of a stretch after nearly three decades of the affliction), the new baddies have plenty of options upon which to wreak havoc and depravity. What is missing, curiously, are continual onslaughts from zombies; it seems that the humans are rarely interrupted during their savagery by pesky flesh-eaters, which is what ought to happen in a world overrun by the undead.

Nevertheless, an element of modest originality does arise, in that a pursuit for a cure isn’t so distant or unthinkable. Typically, zombie apocalypse movies merely establish their premises as an arena for survivors to undertake harrowing adventures – not to tease an actual solution to the infection. But here, with the luxury of a fourth outing, the film’s best persona – Dr. Kelson – finally has an opportunity to study higher intellectual functioning in a singular, conspicuously naked specimen, which could offer a glimmer of hope for reversing the virus’ impact. With his side story comes the return of other familiar imagery and themes, including the magnificent titular temple, graphic bloodshed, isolation and loneliness, outstanding scoring, and some contrasting yet effective sequences of humor – ranging from field tests to rambunctious theatrical performances. Fiennes is so good in these moments that the rest of the subplots pale in comparison.

In a way, it’s understandable that the abyss of inhumanity must be peeped so that the profoundness of a character like Kelson, who has never lost sight of hope, even in his crushing solitude, can be better appreciated (a to-Hell-and-back sort of design). But some of the barbarism here is so overwhelmingly bitter and mean-spirited – to the point that eventual comeuppances don’t go far enough in terms of dystopian justice. It’s uncomfortable, which is surely the point, but it doesn’t lend to a satisfying display of psychological degradation and societal collapse. Nor is it more entertaining or creative than utilizing the abundance of zombies always at the ready. And though the brunt of this middle chapter wraps up all of its fresh tangents with a decent conclusion, it’s also quite apparent that the parting shots are just another tease for another sequel, which may take considerably longer to debut than the approximately seven-month span between “28 Years Later” and “28 Years Later: The Bone Temple.”

– The Massie Twins