Photosensitivity Warning: The climax features flashing lights in a strobing pattern that may prove triggering for sensitive viewers.
Folklore surrounding zombies is varied between culture and time, but always tied to fear of the undead. At some point, it wasn’t just terror of encountering the undead that possessed people, but the notion that the undead returned for no other reason than to ingest human flesh. Of course, the science bears out any reasonable notion that this could occur, especially when considering the decomposition process that involves bodily gases, muscle deterioration, post-mortem rigidity, and the like, but that’s not particularly interesting for a horror tale. One such tale is the most well-known and highly-regarded Night of the Living Dead (1968), directed/co-written by George A. Romero, which influenced generations of filmmakers for its evocative take on the zombie and its biting social commentary while also kicking off a series of films from Romero diving deeper into the wider wreckage of humanity elucidated by the fall of society. Picking up the torch is Tina Romero in her feature film directorial debut Queens of the Dead, fresh from its various festival appearances, which wears George’s influences everywhere, borrowing as all storytellers have since Night, while also offering a unique perspective on what ails humanity in the modern era. Queens of the Dead is more than just a swipe at influencer/social media culture decorated in classic Romero vibes, it’s a ripping observation on the price of extrinsic validation.
L-R: Ahmad Maksoud as Skinz Date Zombie and Julie J as Queen in Tina Romero’s QUEENS OF THE DEAD. Photo Credit: Shannon Madden. An Independent Film Company and Shudder Release.
It was a night like any other in Buswick, Brooklyn, and party planner Dre (Katy O’Brian) is trying to balance cancelling performers, undersold tickets, and clogged toilets in the run-up to opening the doors at Yum. Across town, her nurse wife, Lizzy (Riki Lindhome), is on-call and her shift is made lighter by colleague Sam’s (Jaquel Spivey) presence, the two navigating personal needs and patients (like new patient Jane (Eve Lindley) who keeps trying to elope) amid the regular chaos. But as the night goes on, Dre, Lizzy, Sam, Jane, and the rest of New York City find themselves under siege from agitated individuals with a violent streak and a hunger for human flesh resulting in a need to bury axes — both figurative and literal — in order to survive the night.
Co-written by first-time screenwriters Erin Judge and Tina Romero, their Queens of the Dead uses the motifs of queer culture, specifically that of drag and ballroom, to litigate modern society’s obsession with parasocial relationships over in real life (IRL) ones. There are several narrative threads within Queens and they all revolve around Yum, the club that serves as the central location for most of the story, thereby creating a direct connection between these motifs. There’s a throughline between Dre and Sam (Jaquel Spivey), a former performer who now works at the hospital as a nurse alongside Lizzy; one with Yum headliner, Yasmine (Dominique Jackson), having second thoughts; and one with drug dealer/back-up dancer Nico (Tomás Matos) trying to make the jump to the main stage. In each of these, and others left to discover, the battle between parasocial and real-world relationships is critical both in the immediate conflict as things turn from average to life and death as well as in the larger concepts being argued. A major domino is Yasmine’s decision to consider taking a job elsewhere, a choice which has cascading impacts directly to Dre and others (choices and consequences), and creates an opportunity to highlight the fake sincerity of influencer culture. Judge and Tina specifically use the Yasmine storyline as a catalyst for a number of terrible outcomes, but the most hilarious one may be the presentation of the fake ally cis couple desperate for views (credit for wanting followers naturally versus paid, I guess?) who fawn over Yasmine without knowing who she is and then hop into a photo booth for a series of calculated “natural” shots of their very normal and healthy relationship to be posted online. Quite plainly, Tina and Judge pass judgement on those who spend their time trying to build internet followings instead of something unique, original, and tangible — all the hallmarks of a digital existence. In comparison to the party Dre is throwing at Yum, the influencer event is brightly lit, richly decorated, and filled with people — all of which oppositely describes the status of Yum — but none of the people there are engaging sincerely with anyone else as they’re too busy trying to get the right photograph or video content to post online. While a hilarious opportunity to make sex jokes via genitalia pastries, what the influencer party does is establish that bright lights and fancy drinks create a facsimile of living whereas the darkly lit and severely understated Yum is a place of connection, where memories are made and lives lived.
L-R: Katy O’Brian as Dre and Jack Haven as Kelsey in Tina Romero’s QUEENS OF THE DEAD. Photo Credit: Shannon Madden. An Independent Film Company and Shudder Release.
The baton truly feels passed down in the way that Tina uses the specific language of a community to analyze a critical concern without ever making the community itself the punching bag. Given the title of the film, one might surmise that the drag community would be the recipient of or cause of the most violence; instead, what the filmmakers do, is ground the film in this world while perpetually reminding about what connects people versus what separates them. The outfits, the oral language, the music — such as when one hears Let’s Have a Kiki off the 2012 Scissor Sisters album “Magic Hour” (the operators of EoM prefer Ta-dah of all their albums) — are authentic to the community, enabling the filmmakers to create characters without caricatures. This is necessary to ensure that the comedy is higher than lowbrow and the drama is affecting because everything that happens is happening to people. For a point of reference, Night used zombies to explore class and race (there’s a reason poor Ben (Duane Jones) doesn’t live to the end); Dawn (1978) delved into consumerism as a replacement for personal fulfilment; and Day (1985) asked questions regarding what humanity loses when it destroys everything and what the dead retain. Here, the protagonists are given full form with Tina and Judge incorporating elements from each of the aforementioned films to hilarious effect, with zombies retaining enough of their respective personalities to pause on their phones when a livestream begins, to dance when music comes on, and grouping themselves into pods as though muscle memory persists in death. Amusingly, where George often brings in “psychos,” the trope of the human who goes nuts amid the depravity, Tina and Judge double-down on their online commentary via a spin that’s not remotely stretched in an age of A.I. slop, grifters, and opportunists who do things for the LOLZ (or to enrich themselves) without concern for the wider implications. Making this choice, the filmmakers drill into the horror of humanity as little more than a parasite whose extinction is deserved as some opt to profit, confuse, or otherwise proliferate pain in a time of crisis.
The singular downside to the film is that, like all zombie films that have come since Night, a great deal of the structure and execution comes beholden to it. There are moments wherein the script seems even more beholden than any other as Queens takes a meta approach with more than a few passing references to Night and the larger Dead series. Admittedly, they are beautifully interwoven, lending credibility by inserting a “family affair” feeling, while others are almost groan-worthy; yet each one is intended not to break the fourth wall but to build upon it much in the same way that individuals within a community will lay new bricks upon a pre-laid foundation. To that end, one of the best inclusions is the design of the zombies themselves, each one given a greenish-grey appearance, with just the smallest bit iridescence. Those familiar with Bub (Sherman Howard) with recognize the look makeup department head Christina Grant (West Side Story) sought to replicate all while bringing the design into the 21st century by incorporating less moldy decomp and more of a filthy gorgeous appearance indicative of someone bit on their way to a ball/influencer event. Even where the film touches too closely to the tropes and moments Romero made iconoclast, Tina and Judge make them their own by virtue of choosing a subculture more often treated as the dregs rather than the queens they are. Of course, none of this would be possible without an ensemble cast that’s up for the task, making us believe in the magic of makeovers, the power of community, and the resilience of love in the face of a zombie apocalypse. Impressively, though, there’s not a single standout in the cast with everyone from O’Brian (Mission: Impossible – The Final Reckoning), Spivey (Mean Girls), Lindhome (Knives Out), Matos (Fire Island), Dominique Jackson (I’m Your Venus), Jack Haven (I Saw the TV Glow), Margaret Cho (All That We Love), Quincy Dunn-Baker (Hearts Beat Loud), Nina West (Weird: The Al Yankovic Story) getting a glorious moment to stand in the spotlight.
L-R: Jaquel Spivey as Sam, Tomás Matos as Nico, and Nina West as Ginsey in Tina Romero’s QUEENS OF THE DEAD. Photo Credit: Shannon Madden. An Independent Film Company and Shudder Release.
In a time in history in which what we see online is controlled by an algorithm or produced through A.I., a facsimile of reality can take hold in our minds. The only way to break free is to touch grass, to get out into the world and connect with others. Maybe that’s going to the park, going to a meeting, going to a club, or, in this case, gathering in a theater to laugh, shout, and cry with a group of strangers-soon-to-be-friends. Online living is ephemeral with people looking for the next hot thing, creating an environment in which people are reduced to content whose perceived value is how many eyeballs get on them instead of where true value lies, in kindness, in togetherness, and in community. At the end of the world, are your followers going to save you or is it going to be that friend who remembers what you were like at your best and your worst and still wants you around? The true mind virus is the one you feed digital slop and the only cure is tangible connection.
In select theaters October 24th, 2025.
For more information, head to the official Independent Film Company Queens of the Dead website.
Final Score: 4 out of 5.
Share this:
Categories: Films To Watch, In Theaters, Recommendation, Reviews
Leave a Reply