Dre (Katy O’Brian) is an event organiser, DJ and general fixer at Bushwick’s Yum club, which is all set to bring in the punters with a drag show featuring top notch headliner Yasmine (Dominique Jackson). However, the draw of a more lucrative gig for Glitter Bitch Vodka has Yasmine heading for the hills – well, heading for a glitzy promo tent – and Dre is left with a spectacular hole in the evening which veteran performer Ginsey Tonic (Nina West) is wary of trying to cover. Enter Sam (Jaquel Spivey), who has left the world of drag behind and is working at a local hospital, which is also where we find Dre’s wife Lizzy (Riki Lindhome). Stay with me…
Sam and Dre have history, because Sam left Dre in the lurch at a previous show and the idea that Sam could sashay back in to save the day doesn’t exactly fill Dre with confidence. Could it be time for the sassy, up and coming Nico (Tomas Matos), aka Scrumptious, to bring the star quality? Ginsey is definitely not besties with the headstrong Nico and would rather rely on Sam to make a glorious comeback, but Sam isn’t even sure of themselves. Also, regardless of the talent roster, will the show go on at all? There’s an inconvenient outbreak of a zombie virus about to hit the city. With me? Good.
This isn’t a George Romero movie – along the way, you’re literally going to be told that, by a key player in the canon – but it is a Tina Romero movie, who picks up the baton from her father, respects the legacy but switches to a lane which is very much her own, resulting in a zombie flick that’s both reassuringly familiar and bracingly fresh. There’s siege action from Night, the importance of cultural touchstones from Dawn and musical cues direct from Day, but all of this is seamlessly woven into a genuinely inclusive, frequently amusing and unshakably modern take on that serviceable, decades-old premise.
As much as Queens Of The Dead plants its extravagant heel in LGBTQ+ territory – I mean, come on, look at the title – the overriding message is one of understanding, unity and finding common ground. The movie’s one obviously straight character Barry (Quincy Dunn-Baker) is set up as the unreconstructed bigot and figure of ridicule, but the story reveals him to be much more than that as he tries to adapt to a world of pronouns he can never seem to get right first time. That said, there’s a softer edge to this than George’s often harsh takes on the world, but that doesn’t mean this isn’t political, it’s just wrapped in a suitably matching velvet glove.
Like any successful movie in the Romeroverse, characters are given space to breathe and this may prove a sticking point for those hankering for unrelenting battles with the undead. There is gore but the levels of splatter are relatively low, with the battles often leaning into the humour of the outrageous situations rather than mining them for outright horror. That doesn’t mean the sense of fun dissipates the tension, as our ragtag band of erstwhile zombie killers are sufficiently developed to create a sense of genuine worry whenever they’re placed in peril.
O’Brian is possibly the best known of the cast after her superb turn in Love Lies Bleeding and certainly gives a fine performance here, but the role isn’t afforded extra attention merely because of who she is. Dre is part of the wider ensemble in a story which dishes out its standout moments in even-handed fashion. In particular, the relationship between West and Jackson is warm and lovely and there’s a feeling of lived, affectionate history as they reunite for what turns out to be the biggest show of their lives.
For anyone who hasn’t seen a George A. Romero zombie flick – no judgement here, but is there anyone who hasn’t seen a George A. Romero zombie flick? – the nods to previous movies aren’t intrusive and even the most obvious, featuring the city’s rather dubious Mayor, is both brief and chucklesome. It’s also nice to see a Gaylen Ross cameo, a reporter by the name of Jill Cardille, as well as a second act scene stealer from Margaret Cho as the no-nonsense Pops, some hilarious, impromptu lyrics invention from the sweet Kelsey (Jack Haven) and the affecting journey – in all senses of that phrase – of the transitioning Jane (Eve Lindsey)…there’s plenty going on here, but the plot plates are kept spinning with some skill.
Queens Of The Dead may not spill the guts with the regularity and elan of Dawn, nor does it have the apocalyptic chill of Day but it’s rather fabulous in its own way, forging a unique identity and providing a thoroughly accessible view of drag culture. Although it’s a film which has the word Dead as a prominent component of both its title and action, you’ll find a constantly life-affirming piece, ultimately choosing hope rather than Hell on Earth. If the series is to continue, Tina’s grasp of the overriding framework is as impressive as you’d expect, but also has the confidence to bring her own experiences to bear. I think George would really enjoy this one.
Queens of the Dead (2025) was this year’s opening film at Celluloid Screams UK.