A zombie is not just any monster. It is our most beloved monster, the one that best represents us. Since George A. Romero brought them back to life in his legendary work of 1968, the living dead have only been reborn. Again and again. Danny Boyle (Radcliffe, 1956) - the director of mythical films like Trainspotting, Sunshine, or Slumdog Millionaire - can boast of being the author of their latest and most resounding (not necessarily the most brilliant) resurrection. 28 Days Later hit the screens with the new millennium (in 2002 exactly) ready to announce a time of hatred, loneliness, and empty streets due to a pandemic about to explode.
They were infected, not exactly zombies, but they already warned us of the threat of the masses, the fear of the horde, the risk of our identity hijacked by the thirst for technological consumption. Then came 28 Weeks Later, directed by Juan Carlos Fresnadillo, and now, more than two decades since the beginning of it all, comes the third installment, 28 Years Later, as a prelude to a new trilogy. The next film is already finished and directed by Nia DaCosta. For the occasion, Alex Garland and Danny Boyle, the writer and director of the first film, piece together a fractured friendship and offer us a reflection on ideology, on hatred, on polarized society, on Brexit, and, why not, on death itself.
Danny Boyle sits down, declares himself a fan of Lamine Yamal ("He reminds me of Thierry Henry") and confesses that he knows Spain well thanks to his daughter ("She studied here, in Madrid, for a year at the School of Architecture").
When the streets emptied because of Covid 20 years after the release of 28 Days Later, did you feel a bit like a prophet?
Horror movies fascinate because they introduce elements that later acquire new meanings either on purpose or by accident. Covid became the best example. When it arrived, the empty streets looked exactly like in our first movie. The 28-year gap in our story now reflects how people reacted to the pandemic: initial panic (remember when we used gloves to handle vegetables?), and then gradual acceptance of the risk as life goes on. This influenced the behavior of our characters, creating their isolated community on an island...
A community that also serves as a metaphor for Brexit.
Exactly. The movie's story absorbs these meanings, even though it's not openly political. After 28 years, these people take calculated risks: they go to the mainland for supplies, train their children as warriors. In times of crisis, society barricades itself in a glorious past that never truly existed. That's what Brexit did. The deceit of Brexit has a lot to do with the reclaiming of an invented past, a past of glory where the English were great and defeated the French at Agincourt.
The rage virus itself seems like another prophecy in today's hate-polarized world.
Yes, we have become incredibly impatient and furious as a society. Technology may have accelerated this: we go from zero to 100 in an instant. Polarization is extreme now with total intolerance between sides.
And who is responsible?
I would say that while politicians have some responsibility, our relationship with technology is key. As we become more technologically sophisticated, our emotional responses become more primal. Artificial Intelligence is likely to intensify this, making people feel incredibly powerful yet powerless. AI can do almost anything from driving a car to dressing you in the morning, and yet, you feel powerless. You feel less powerful because you simply can't afford the rent. And that generates immense frustration, infecting us with hate. The violent polarization of society has to do with the illusion of power that technology creates. In the first movie, the rage of the infected was based on road rage that we all know. Now rage can do anything and affects everyone. Men, males, are frustrated and women are increasingly showing more anger. Hate has become extremely unsettling and terrifying.
In any case, without revealing anything from the movie, one would say that there is room in your reflection for hope...
I believe in Mandela's phrase that the arc of the moral universe bends towards justice. And even if it weren't true, it is necessary to believe that progress is possible. Our movie explores this through the society of Holy Island: without technology, they have regressed to post-war values, reversing gender progress. They have returned to post-war Great Britain, enduring rationing, but with a sense of righteousness... So they only train boys to be warriors. Girls stay at home. This is relevant. Any appeal to a glorious past involves a return to women's submission. And all this raises profound questions: Is progress linked to technology? Would the loss of technology make us regress socially? China represents this paradox very well: technologically advanced society, but not at all progressive in the most basic aspects: human rights.
The theme of Memento Mori (remember that you have to die) now occupies a prominent place in a movie once again plagued by the dead. How did they arrive at this kind of paradox?
It's there, in our society every day. Today's tech billionaires invest fortunes in immortality research. This is the extreme image of how our culture denies death. Health apps and wellness trends sell the illusion that we can cheat death. Coming from Ireland, where we face death openly - children are forced to touch the dead to understand mortality - I find this unhealthy denial. Alex Garland brilliantly inserted this meditation on mortality within the action and terror framework of the movie. Everyone warned us that we would break with the action, but we kept it intact: it's important to remember that, with rage or without it, we all share the same fate. The protagonist maintains his decency despite everything, showing how the awareness of mortality should guide our lives.
Nia DaCosta directs the sequel. Was there consideration to work again with Juan Carlos Fresnadillo?
We discussed it, but we were looking for a fresh perspective from someone outside our world. Nia helped us break our boys' club dynamic. Observing our team, mostly male and white, we recognized the need for a different sensitivity. It wasn't about disrespecting Juan Carlos, of course.