The running theory I’ve held for several years was that the eventual reunion between genre dynamic duo Danny Boyle and Alex Garland was all either of them needed to recapture critical and audience raves. My scientific method proved sound when 28 Years Later was released last year to a rapt reception, both a fascinating revisitation of their breakout collaboration (which basically kicked off the zombie renaissance of the aughts) and one that carried a unique stamp of the “now.” The film acted as a critical salve against the wave of British nationalism that led to Brexit while rejecting the idea of pastoralism as a solution to the world’s ills. In a weaker year of releases, there would have been a strong argument for greater awards recognition, and maybe there still should have been. All that taken into mind, along with an attention-grabbing (and controversial) ending, anticipation ran high for its follow-up and questions about where Garland’s next script, with Nia DaCosta stepping in for Boyle as director, would take the story.
Picking up where the last one left off, The Bone Temple takes on a two-hander approach to tie off all of the strands of its prequel. Spike (Alfie Williams) has fallen in deep with the gang of “Jimmys” led by Sir Lord Jimmy Crystal (Jack O’Connell), a cult leader who wrangles together a ragtag bunch of killers who all dress in his image and take on his name. Jimmy, a schizophrenic who hears the voice of “Old Nick”/The Devil, commits acts of atrocity with his mates. These include peeling the skin off of their victims and various other horrific acts of violence in what they deem to be “charity.” Spike, as their latest recruit, must learn to somehow survive under this oppressive tutelage, with only another member, “Jimmy Ink” (Erin Kellyman), acting as a sympathetic ear.
In the film’s other half, we also return to the story of Dr. Ian Kelson (Ralph Fiennes), who is still building up his bone temple, his ersatz monument to the deceased of the land. But a new element has been introduced in his world as the goliath infected Samson (Chi Lewis-Parry) is continually returning to Ian’s camp, seeking the relief of a sedative the doctor provides as a kind of sojourn from the daily rage that has overwhelmed his body. The friendship that builds between them not only is core to the film, but also has broader ramifications for where this franchise may lead.
The most noticeable shift from the outset is the handoff from Boyle to DaCosta. Whereas Boyle always has a kind of rough-hewn documentarian, punk energy, DaCosta’s work is more classically composed and even a bit gothic in its sweep. All of the flashy mixed media that her predecessor is well-known for takes a backseat this time instead for what approaches a character study for both Spike and Ian in their separate strands and the eventual blend of the two. While I missed those visual fireworks at first, DaCosta’s more meditative and patient approach makes more sense for the kind of stripped down story that Garland is telling this time out.
That story, while also split into two, sees…if not a bit of a quality gap between its threads, then at least some areas where one has some noticeable areas where you can’t help but wonder about the path taken. The heart of the film is the plaintive and, at times, rather funny, relationship between Ian and Samson. Those moments of tranquility for Samson open up new dimensions for a character that mostly was just known for his appendage previously. And the time spent with the good doctor vis-à-vis a caring yet also weary performance from Fiennes (great actor is great, big surprise!) remains welcome. The amount of Duran Duran needle drops therein also probably paid for Simon Le Bon’s next yacht.
It’s Spike’s side of things where I struggled with my feelings overall. The gang of Jimmys are a unique visual, and certainly given their point of reference, worthy of discussion. But I couldn’t help but feel a level of disappointment the more we learned about them. Instead of something truly bizarre that would have acted as a forerunner for perhaps a real shift of the franchise into the surreal, instead they’re basically garden variety nihilists/satanists with a kill streak. Compounding that is Spike’s general passivity throughout the movie. The plucky lead of the last movie feels as if he grows very little here and is given next to nothing to do. This is, of course, meant to instead offload that character building for Kellyman’s “Jimmy Ink” but it’s an odd choice.
To put this in gamer terms, my big takeaway when the credits rolled was that this felt like a 28 Years Later sidequest or DLC, and that its few revelations could have easily been offloaded into either the previous film or the next one. Does that make The Bone Temple skippable though? I think that’s where my own feelings are a bit more complex. Because here’s the long and short of it, regardless of how thin and even potentially aimless it feels, this newest outing in “rage infected” England is an enjoyable time. Everything moves at a crisp pace, the drama nails its intended tones, Jack O’Connell continues to be one of our best horror villain actors, and when it ended I did feel that sense of satisfaction you feel when you see a good film.
It’s just that battle between the weight of expectations and the movie we’ve built up in our head vs. what expert storytellers actually provide us with. And almost always, our audience trust pays off, if imperfectly. The Bone Temple works best when you just let it be what it is: a solid, atmospheric detour that deepens the world without revolutionizing it. DaCosta brings her own sensibilities to Garland’s vision, and while the results may feel more like a necessary pause than a triumph, the craft remains undeniable. Sometimes the side quest is exactly what the story needs.