More Zombies

still.jpg More film reviews, I think. Or rather, just the one. Shall we turn our attention to 28 Weeks Later? Yes, let’s. 

28 WL is the sequel to 28 Days Later. For those who haven’t seen either film, may I draw your attention to the plot keywords proffered by our friends at IMDB, just to give you a flavour?

The terms most pertinent to the plot of 28DL, apparently, are ‘Soft Drink’, ‘Zombie’, ‘Dress’, ‘London’, and ‘Vomiting’. Those phrases that lend themselves more to the sequel are ‘Torso Cut In Half’, ‘Shot To Death’, ‘Horror’, ‘Shot In The Chest’ and ‘Survival Horror’. Deary me.

The premise of both films is this: there’s a virus on the loose. If you catch it, it makes you extremely angry. In your anger, you will feel compelled to bring about the gory demise of those around you. And if, in the process, you manage to swap bodily fluids with someone, they catch the virus too, and will join you in your murderous rampage.

Oh, and once you’re infected, you’re seemingly safe from the unsavoury attentions of your zombie chums. In the midst of their gibbering fury, they’re still able to reliably distinguish their infected colleagues from the as-yet normal, and focus their blood-letting efforts squarely on the latter. So that’s super.

The real strength of these films is that they fly in the face of the standard zombie conventions. These critters have none of the lanquid perambulation we see in the early George Romero stuff (in theory, the zombies in Night of the Living Dead could be thwarted by walking briskly in the opposite direction). Nay, these ones are light of foot, red of eye, and tend to dribble a bit.

Memorable moments include the dramatic sweeping vistas of a deserted London (they’re all dead, you see). And I was rather taken with the vision of the Wembley pitch left untended for several months. It’s the little touches like this that make it stick in the mind somewhat.

For all of that, though, it’s perhaps a little bit too much like the first one. Albeit with an interesting conceit: semi-immunity. When Robert Carlyle leaves his wife in the care of the zombies in order to save himself, he never expects that he’ll see her again, alive and (sort of) well, and have to explain his selfish actions. Still, he gets his comeuppance.

I thought it was excellent, and will surely avail myself of the inevitable threequel. Without giving too much away, it’ll probably be subtitled.

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