Our apocalyptic times are summoning cinema that reflects a survivalist bent, be it faith-based preppers ready for societal collapse (“Homestead”), America’s open political wounds resulting in “Civil War” or the umpteenth iteration of End Times brought on by zombies (“28 Years Later”).

“40 Acres” is a tense, violent and generally satisfying survivalist thriller that ties into history, historical “erasure” and a plausible “how it all breaks down” cause — a fungal plague that triggered wars and the ugly Darwinism thfor the humans who lived through it.

With arable land scarce, livestock wiped out and the supply chain and food chain and social order all but wiped out, Black descendents of slaves who escaped to Canada find themselves battling to protect their farm and prevent the ultimate “erasure.” Because the roaming gangs of white thugs who attack their “perimeter” are meat eaters.

Danielle Deadwyer of “Till” and “The Harder They Fall” is the matriarch of the Freemans, a woman who mustered out of the military and raised her blended family under no-nonsense military order.

She’s taught them to farm with a tractor and hand-planting seeds, drilled them in martial arts and firearms and home-schooled 20ish Manny (Kataem O’Connor), her teen Danis (Jaeda LeBlanc), her stepdaughter teen Raine (Leenah Robinson) and her youngest Cookie (Haile Amare) with an emphasis on practicalities, and a working knowledge of “The Proletarian’s Pocketbook” when they’re old enough.

Her First Nations husband (Michael Greyeyes) still goes by “Sarge,” so he’s a former comrade in arms and is totally down with the military discipline thing.

Their 40 acres is fenced in with CCTV and other security measures (that took some doing), powered by solar panels and dedicated to growing vegetables and grains, maybe a little weed to swap for a neighbor’s moonshine. Their farm house isn’t in great repair, as it’s been 30 years since society started its steep downturn. But they’ve got a bunker and an arsenal in the basement. They’re going to need both.

Because just as “flesh eaters” move into the area and farms start “going dark” on the shortwave radio, Manny spies a lovely woman (Milcania Diaz-Rojas) taking a dip in his favorite river. Mom’s whole “We don’t need nothing or nobody” ethos, and the “don’t trust ANYONE” edict for these dangerous times are both about to go out the window.

Director and co-writer R.T. Thorne might make the “land is the most valuable commodity” pitch in an opening title telling us of the woes of the world. But he figured out early on that nothing raises the stakes in a post-apocalyptic like roaming armed gangs of cannibals. They don’t want “land.” They have no interest in tilling it. They want the folks doing the farming as a main course.

The picture spares few details in the grisly business of shooting, slicing and butchering people, and treats us to some M*A*S*H unit-styled field surgery/first aid as well. It’s pretty bloody. Not “28 Years Later” bloody, but bloody close.

Deadwyler makes a fine, wry and tough-talking Mama Bear in this narrative, credible as an action heroine, but also diminutive enough for us to figure “Somebody or somebodies twice her size are going to get the best of her” at some point.

The unnamed head villain (Patrick Garrow) is made up to be a Brad Dourif look-alike and otherwise woefully underdeveloped. And the picture is predictable to a fault, but with good performances and furious firefights in between a lot of sneaking around in the dark (doing it with flashlights and carlights on that any enemy could track) and third act dash of sentiment amidst the gore, it comes off.

And unlike Danny Boyle’s “28 Years” conclusion to his undead trilogy, it never pretends to be more than a genre picture and thus never goes quite off the rails the way the zombies-in-Scotland finale does.

Rating: R, graphic, gruesome violence, pot use, profanity

Cast: Danielle Deadwyer, Kataem O’Connor, Michael Greyeyes, Milcania Diaz-Rojas, Haile Amare, Jaeda LeBlanc, Patrick Garrow and Leenah Robinson

Credits: Directed by R.T. Thorne, scripted by Glenn Taylor and R.T. Thorne. A Magnolia release.

Running time: 1:53