Today marks 77 years since the arrival of the HMT Empire Windrush at Tilbury Docks on 22 June 1948—a moment that reshaped Britain’s cultural and social fabric. Windrush Day is not just a commemoration; it is a call to remember, reflect, and reckon with the contributions and challenges of the Windrush generation and their descendants.

Advertisement

To mark this milestone, ClickView has released a powerful educational documentary titled “Windrush Day: History and What it Represents”. Produced by Ailing Tay, the film offers a concise yet moving exploration of the Windrush journey—from post-war migration and cultural resilience to the injustices of the Windrush scandal.

The documentary features campaigners like Patrick Vernon, who contextualise the scandal within a broader history of systemic racism and bureaucratic neglect. It also highlights the cultural richness Caribbean migrants brought to Britain—through music, food, labour, and community spirit—while not shying away from the discrimination they endured.

Advertisement

ClickView’s resource is aimed at schools, but its impact reaches far beyond the classroom. It reminds us that Windrush history is British history, and that education is a vital tool in dismantling ignorance and fostering inclusion.

As we celebrate Windrush 77, we also honour the pioneers we’ve lost—like Clovis Constantine Salmon OBE, the UK’s first major Black historical documentary filmmaker, who passed away just days before this year’s anniversary. His legacy, like that of the Windrush generation, is woven into the very fabric of modern Britain.

Advertisement

Let this anniversary be more than symbolic. Let it be a renewed commitment to justice, education, and the preservation of stories that must never be forgotten.

Advertisement

A feral return to the franchise that refuses to die quietly

JamRadio Entertainment News

The latest film reviews, television, music, and celebrity news

28 Years Later: The Bone Temple doesn’t just resurrect a franchise, it exhumes it, electrifies it, and hurls it screaming into a world that feels uncomfortably close to our own. This is the rare legacy sequel that understands its inheritance: rage, ruin, and the uncomfortable truth that institutions collapse far faster than they rebuild.

Where 28 Days was intimate and 28 Weeks was militarised, The Bone Temple is mythic. Director Danny Boyle returns with the confidence of someone who knows he helped define modern horror, and he swings for something bigger.

Set nearly three decades after the original outbreak, Britain is no longer a nation but a rumour. What remains is a patchwork of fortified enclaves, cult settlements, and bureaucratic ghosts clinging to authority they no longer possess. The film’s central location, the eponymous Bone Temple, is a masterstroke: part sanctuary, part ossuary, part political allegory. It’s the kind of setting that feels ripped from a Caribbean oral history of survival, where communities build meaning from the ruins left by indifferent powers.

Boyle uses it to ask a brutal question:
When the state collapses, who gets to define truth?

Ralph Fiennes tears through The Bone Temple with a performance that’s wild, hypnotic, and impossible to look away from. Critics describe him as a deranged prophet‑showman, building a literal monument of bones while delivering a turn so theatrical and unhinged it borders on myth

Ralph Fiennes brilliantly plays Dr. Ian Kelson

Jodie Comer delivers a career‑best performance as Mara, a survivor whose scepticism is as sharp as her machete. She embodies the exhaustion of a generation raised on broken promises, a theme that will resonate with anyone who has ever fought opaque institutions for basic justice.

Aaron Taylor‑Johnson brings a volatile energy as a former soldier haunted by the sins of past “containment operations.” His arc is a pointed indictment of the cycles of violence governments justify in the name of order.

And then there’s the infected — faster, more feral, and somehow more tragic than ever. Boyle shoots them like a force of nature, not monsters but consequences.

What makes The Bone Temple compelling isn’t just the gore or the tension — though both are exceptional. It’s the film’s willingness to interrogate the narratives of power that shaped the earlier entries. The military isn’t coming. The scientists aren’t saviours. The government isn’t even a rumour. Communities survive because they choose to, not because anyone rescues them.

This is a horror film that understands the politics of abandonment.

The cinematography is blistering — kinetic handheld chaos punctuated by moments of eerie stillness. The Bone Temple itself is unforgettable: a cathedral built from the remains of the old world, lit by fire, echoing with chants that blur the line between faith and fear.

The score pulses like a heartbeat on the edge of collapse. It’s the closest the franchise has felt to a nightmare you can’t wake from.

 JamRadio's Verdict 

28 Years Later: The Bone Temple is the rare sequel that justifies its existence. It’s bold, furious, and uncomfortably relevant — a film that understands horror is not just about monsters, but about systems that fail and the people forced to survive their fallout.

For JamRadio’s audience — especially those who know what institutional abandonment feels like — this film hits a nerve.

Rating: A brutal, brilliant resurrection.