Review: QUEENS OF THE DEAD is a Hilarious Queer Horror Comedy

In Queens of the Dead, legacy is born anew. Tina Romero, daughter of the late George A. Romero, evolves the family business with her unique take on rhinestone-dotted zombie cinema. Her experiences as a DJ in the queer nightlife space inform a flesh-eating undead horror-comedy that hardly aligns with her father's stylistic voice, yet it remains just as commentative and satirical. It's a scrappy, catty, yet celebratory queer horror film that feels organic in its examinations, while still honoring the Romero name … albeit with a fabulous "glitter zombie" twist.

Queens of the Dead centers around Brooklyn's drag nightlife scene, between Dre's (Katy O'Brian) modest warehouse party and a fancier Glitter Bitch vodka-sponsored influencer event. Dre's trying to cultivate a community, but headliners like Yasmine (Dominique Jackson) think nothing of bailing on the day to take higher-paying branded opportunities. As Dre scrambles to replenish her queen ranks, and tries to keep her location from falling apart, the unthinkable happens—zombies invade Brooklyn. Dre's gang barricades themselves inside with booze and tunes, but eventually must plan their escape. What should have been a raucous Easter rave turns into a fight for survival that includes scooter gangs, phallic desserts, and Kesha needle drops.

Thousands of filmmakers might be trying to become the next George A. Romero, but Tina is not one of them. She mimics her father's green-painted Dawn of the Dead zombies, but instead of going for a rotten corpse vibe, brushes them with sparkle dust and glamorizes the deceased. Queens of the Dead is colorful and flamboyant in countless ways, using drag wardrobe and cosmetics to enhance the visual appeal of zombie traditions. Elaborate on-stage characteristics liven otherwise slowly shuffling undead modes, and while maximum terror might fall to the wayside, entertainment doesn't wane. Tina's mission to represent queerness at the forefront informs the film's energetic and candy-pop addictive imagery, offering a fresh take on zombies through an underexposed cultural perspective.

Tina's thoughtful with her commentaries, in collaboration with comedian and co-writer Erin Judge. Queens of the Dead dares to find hope in introspection, where other, more pandering queer films might take the easy route by opting for anger over acceptance. Quincy Dunn-Baker's token straight Staten Island boy could easily be the ignorant schmuck who dies immediately, punished for his pronoun misuse and podcast conspiracy jargon, but he's used to shine a light on the power of patience and education. Tomas Matos' feisty influencer Nico, aka "Scrumptious," could easily be a sacrifice given their selfish tendencies as an egotistical newbie queen, but instead, they help highlight frustrations about community infighting. Tina goes above and beyond to find the humanity in an otherwise inhumane situation, imbuing the dialogue with beautiful authenticity; this queer-forward horror film aims to be more than just tropes and takedowns.

In execution, Queens of the Dead feels like a sibling watch to Jem Garrard's "From Tuck Till Dawn" film, Slay. Tina brings the same savage roasts, fierce choreography, and all-out drag show entertainment with a bright joviality. That will, of course, be a problem for some since Queens of the Dead tips the horror-comedy scale toward laughs, but the production is bursting with personality. A cast including Katy O'Brian, Jaquel Spivey, Margaret Cho, Nina West, and other queer figures brings vitality to their roles, whether dancing the dread away or having their butt-filler stuffing munched by dead heads. It's a modest production powered by an almost entirely queer cast and crew that emphasizes punchlines, which keeps the terrors of even zombified rats from becoming nightmare material, but that's hardly a damning sentence. There are times when the massive ensemble underserves a character arc or silliness loses its spunky sparkle, yet the film's rhythmic club vibes and behind-the-scenes perseverance shine through in an endearingly indie way.

Thankfully, when Queens of the Dead is funny, it's mightily funny. Jack Haven's turn as the angelic and ditzy-coded Kelsey is MVP material, especially once they're axed in the leg. When the beats drop, bassy hooks are addictive and head-boppy—what else would you expect from the on-fire composing group Blitz//Berlin? Tina's opening the door to insatiable queer horror that's showy, zippy, and welcoming to all viewers, like a gateway horror title for the LGBTQ+ community. It's the type of genre title anyone can use to ease their non-genre friends into their space like a invitation, which is a complimentary quality. A vibey hangout movie that everyone can chuckle along with, albeit fueled by hyper-specific themes that prove their universal appeal.

Queens of the Dead is a glam-gore zombie flick that'll have you snapping your fingers in approval. Tina Romero is a student of her father's work, but not a copycat. The cast is electric, comedy blazes with a quick wit, and Tina's personalized reinvention of zombie lore glistens like a disco ball. It's more Hedwig and the Angry Inch than Dawn of the Dead, but that's by design. The film's spirit and spectacle overcome sporadic shortcomings, all in the name of asserting queer horror as a marquee draw, not a bone tossed around or a measly crumb served like a main course. Queens of the Dead owns the spotlight, hopefully leading the charge for more fearlessly outspoken queer horror titles to follow suit.

Movie Score: 3.5/5