For rising star Alfie Williams, the journey from Newcastle to the heart of a blockbuster zombie franchise has been punctuated by both cinematic triumph and the mundane frustrations of being a teenager. The actor, who carried much of last year's hit '28 Years Later' on his shoulders, returns to the apocalyptic fray in the sequel, 'The Bone Temple', but his path to stardom hasn't been without its uniquely adolescent hurdles.
The Agony of Age Ratings and On-Set Legends
One of the more absurd realities of being a 14-year-old film star meant Williams could endure gruesome zombie make-up and prosthetics on Danny Boyle's set, but was legally barred from watching his own debut in cinemas. He discovered this when trying to enter a screening with friends. "I pulled out my phone and started pointing at a photo of me with Danny Boyle and one of the infected," Williams recalls. The cinema staff were unmoved, leading to a deflated Williams and his mates watching F1 instead. The irony deepened when the sequel, directed by Nia DaCosta, received an 18 certificate from the BBFC, locking out his Newcastle friends.
Now 15, Williams is in London wrapping a new horror film, 'Banquet', with Meghann Fahy. He admits to feeling more relaxed this promotional cycle. "I didn't feel the pressure when I was filming, because you just can't make a fool out of yourself in front of Ralph Fiennes," he grins. The initial anxiety about public reception, however, was very real. "I was really worried people were gonna be like, 'oh, this kid sucks'. But I think people liked my performance, so that was nice to hear."
From Newcastle Auditions to Emotional Depths
Discovered by Danny Boyle after an extensive search across the North East, Williams had minimal formal training but an innate grit that suited the role of Spike, a child born into a zombie-ravaged world. His final audition involved the film's most heart-wrenching scene, where Spike says goodbye to his dying mother, played by Jodie Comer. To access the emotion, Williams drew on a personal loss. "I have this picture of my granddad that I carry with me... he passed away like two years before we filmed. So in those moments, it wasn't Jodie that I was seeing but my grandad. And that really helped," he shares.
While the first film balanced horror with profound emotion, 'The Bone Temple' embraces more visceral terror, hence its higher age rating. Williams, often masked in the sequel, enjoyed being an observer. "It's so gory but so awesome... I was just watching this really cool gore and smiling the whole time." His character is drawn into a cult led by a maniacal Jack O'Connell, who entertained the cast with guitar playing between takes. Of his revered co-star Ralph Fiennes, Williams notes his gentle off-screen demeanour and one peculiar habit: "He shakes hands for a really long time, like he takes your hand and then waits until he finishes his sentence to let go."
Missed Connections and Rock 'n' Roll Dreams
A significant disappointment for the young actor was narrowly missing the chance to meet franchise original Cillian Murphy, who visited the set. Stringent child labour laws, which limit his hours on set, meant Williams was whisked away immediately after wrapping. "If we'd finished this scene literally 10 minutes earlier, I could have met him," he laments.
Between franchise commitments, Williams is channelling his energy into a new passion: music. He's immersed himself in the catalogues of Nirvana, Weezer, and System of a Down, and is determined to start a band. "I think we need to bring rock back," he declares. "I'm just gonna put up some flyers looking for people who want to make some guitar music... Put 'em on telephone poles and stuff." His enthusiasm peaked when he learned his publicist once worked with 90s rock giants like Korn and Soundgarden, prompting an excited query about Alice in Chains.
As '28 Years Later: The Bone Temple' hits cinemas, Alfie Williams stands as a refreshingly normal talent amidst the chaos of fame and fictional apocalypses—a Geordie lad with stellar acting chops and dreams of guitar riffs, navigating the bizarre crossroads of child stardom and zombie gore.
