28 Days Later
2002
Danny Boyle
I guess the first thing I noticed was that it looked low-budget. I wasn't thinking this it was criticism; I actually thought it worked quite well for the type of movie it was—a horror movie, basically, out three years after the ultimate low-budget affair, The Blair Witch Project. After the credits rolled, Pam (who had already seen this film some years ago) asked me, so what did you think? And I responded that I liked the thing with the camera, how it, uh, ya know, how it kinda seemed like low-budget or whatever.
I knew what I felt, even though I didn't know how to describe it. That's where we're at, here at the end of Never Seen It. I know what I feel and I can kind of explain why, but I don't know enough about filmmaking to be able to know the easy answer: those scenes were shot on digital handheld camera. I was kind of hoping that this sort of thing would become second nature for me at this point, but it hasn't. It's all good, though. I'd be disappointed if I watched something like 28 Days Later and felt nothing. That's not what happened. I felt a lot. It just takes a little bit to unlock the meaning behind what I felt, that's all.
At one point on the blog, I speculated that 28 Days Later was going to be a horror film, and it seems like my speculation was correct, but it's not a horror film in the way you might think. There is a "villain" in the zombies (well, director Danny Boyle has said that they are not zombies and this is not a zombie film, but c'mon), but I'd argue that the zombies are not necessarily the thing that needs to be defeated in 28 Days Later. The virus that causes humans to act like zombies is more of a backdrop for the unaffected humans and their struggles. Can a kind-hearted protagonist be cold enough to protect himself? Can a father do what's right for his daughter? Can our heroes escape the clutches of a group of army dudes who have gone over the brink? Yes, all of these questions are answered under the umbrella of the ultimate question of "can they survive?" But I'd argue that those interpersonal questions are more important, and serve to make a more exciting movie that your typical run-from-zombie affair.
One more time, in honor of all the horror films that have come before it on the Never Seen It list—you're asking the wrong person if you're curious as to whether 28 Days Later is "scary." I'll never admit being frightened of a film, just because that's not really how I watch movies. But I think maybe 28 Days Later came closest to any film I've seen so far. For two reasons, one bad and one good. First, it's one of those movies that has wild volume adjustments, which means that it was attempting the jump scare. The most shocking part of the film was when the zombie smashed through the window of Jim's childhood home—shocking mostly because it was so goddamn loud on the television set that I was shocked that it didn't wake up any of the kids. The jump scares didn't feel cheap, but they also didn't necessarily add to the value of the film.
But the other part that one might consider "scary" was a simple change made to the dynamic of your typical zombie film. The change was that the zombies were quick. You picture your typical zombie lurching toward its intended victim. Not here. These fuckers were fast. The infected individuals in 28 Days Later sprinted toward their prey. It was kinda jarring, in a way. The digital handheld camera footage made it even more jarring. Now, is jarring aligned with the idea of "scary"? Not necessarily. But I think if you're looking for a physical reaction while watching a horror film, then this is how you do it. I jumped a few times.
The scariest part, if I'm being honest, is how brutal the humans need to be to survive. Once someone is infected, they have 20 seconds until they start acting unhinged. All the characters know this, and all the characters know that, in those 20 seconds, it's kill or be killed. So when Brendan Gleeson's affable Frank gets infected by pure fucking happenstance (a drop of blood from a corpse lands in his eye), he knows what's going to happen. He says goodbye to his daughter. He accepts his fate. He is killed. That's fucking scary, man! And the ever-looming specter of death makes the lighthearted scenes feel even more tragic. That scene in which the four survivors skate around the grocery store like an end-of-the-world Supermarket Sweep? Fun to watch, but equally tragic knowing that the other shoe's gotta fall eventually.
There's been a lot of talk recently in this column, now that it's pretty much over, about what makes a movie one that I'll love. There are criteria, sure, and I can point to certain movies and say something like "oh well this happened over the course of one day/night, that's one of the reasons I love it," and shit like that. But when it comes down to it, I can sum it up in one single way. I like movies that tell us something about being human. I've said this before, but it's interesting to frame it within the context of a movie that is ostensibly about what it means when a virus makes you less than human. Such a situation causes those who are left to survive by any means necessary. That shows the indelible human spirit. Which makes 28 Days Later a good film. There are plenty of other ways to explain why it's good, but that pretty much gets to the heart of the matter.
GRADE: 4 pukes out of 5
NEXT TIME: I plan on taking the assignment seriously, due to the reputation of the film and its status as a classic—time to finally hear Thus Spoke Zarathustra in 2001: A Space Odyssey. It's the penultimate edition of Never Seen It.
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