When I get my computer back tomorrow and everything’s technologically jake (I hope, I pray), I’ll bang out some kind of longer tribute piece about 28 Weeks Later (Fox Atomic, 5.11), which I saw this evening. (I’d write it now but the cyber cafe I’m sitting in on West 49th Street closes at 11 pm, and they’re charging $11 bucks an hour. Hey, why not $15?)

28 Weeks Later is a “wow” second-act piece — more of a continuation of 28 Days Later than a sequel. It doesn’t thematically build upon or add intriguing new layers to Danny Boyle‘s original raging-zombies flick. It’s not The Godfather, Part II, in other words — it’s The Empire Strikes Back, complete with a semi-cliffhanger finish that doesn’t end the story it’s been telling as much as bring to an abrupt close.

Which I was totally fine with. It’s a wildly inventive, envelope-pushing, high-end jolt movie all the way. I was staring at it open-mouthed, amazed and thrilled and even half-stunned at times. (Honestly.) Anyone who liked the first will certainly feel satisfied (i.e., enjoyably throttled) by it. But it’ll be up to whomever directs the third chapter — the completion of the trilogy — to really bring home the bacon. That isn’t to say that 28 Weeks Later doesn’t rousingly do what it sets out to do. You just have to process it as a “more of” thing rather than “heavier or stronger than.” Which, for me, filled the bill and then some.