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Hi, everyone. Welcome back to the faculty of horror podcasting from the horrid halls

of academia. I'm Alex Westwood and receive the spooky. Oh, no. Happy Halloween. Happy

October. Happy spooky season. Yay. It's finally here. We are recording this during the Canadian

Thanksgiving weekend, which is to say what a second weekend of October. And as my phone

has been reminding me all weekend, we are usually in Salem this weekend. Yeah. My phone

has been like, remember this three years ago, remember this five years ago? And we're

not. Salem Horror isn't happening in its proper form right now. I think K is running

some film content out of cinema Salem. So all I can say for right now is just stay tuned

for Salem Horror Announcements from them. And they're going to be back in the spring.

So who knows? Maybe another holiday. Sure. Even one that doesn't focus so much around

eating, you know, because I like the eating holidays. Yeah. It's nice to be at home in

your comfy pants. Oh, yes. Elastic waistband. But anyway, we are not here today to talk

about eating. We are here to talk about a lack in the post-apocalyptic landscape that

is perhaps very eerily prescient within this film. And today we are talking about Danny

Boyle's 28 days later. And I feel like this is a film we have talked about doing for a

long time. And we kind of held off on because this always felt like, Andrea, this is kind

of like a big film for you. Obviously you wrote a book about the sociology of zombies and

really focused on the Romero trilogy. And well, not trilogy if there's six films, but

the original that then kind of spun off into the other of the deads. Yeah. And but then

there was also a section, as I remember in your book, about 28 days later. Yeah. There

was as I was wrapping up, my analysis was basically about Romero's I say trilogy.

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