Queens of the Dead
A Review by Aaron Barrocas

When there's no room left in Hell, there's an app for that.
-Queens of the Dead



Queens of the Dead is the first feature film from Tina Romero, daughter of cinema legend George Romero. Any conversation about this first movie will inevitably start with George – but happily, it does not end with him.

George Romero changed horror as we know it. His Dead trilogy took creativity and social commentary through horror to a new level. Romero’s films became the bible for all zombie movies, and his zombie lore became a shorthand for filmmakers and audiences.

So when his daughter helms her first feature film, and the last three words in the title are “of the Dead”, her lineage is super important. In making this movie, she became part of film history. A Romero has made a new Dead movie. And that feels so good to cinemaphiles - especially horror freaks. We care so goddamn much about this.

Now that you know how unbiased I am, here’s the truth. It would have been so easy to disappoint me and every other zombie lover in the world. All she had to do was put up a generic, soulless (pun intended) zombie flick like a million others we’ve seen, stamp it as part of the “of the Dead” franchise, and every one of us would be devastated by the degradation of the name. But instead, she breathed new life into the series. A true new generation.

It’s called Queens of the Dead, but it isn’t about royalty. And while the movie takes place in one of the five boroughs - it isn’t that one. This zombie movie takes place in a drag cabaret in Brooklyn. There are dance numbers, there are nonbinary zombies, and there is Margaret Cho as a badass lawyer named Pops who crashes into the movie on a motorcycle like Roddy Piper out of bubblegum. This Dead movie is a queer horror-comedy, and it’s a good one.

With Queens of the Dead, Tina establishes herself as a strong, unique voice in the world of film. There’s a level of camp that brings John Waters to mind. But the kills? They’re good. The human kills and the zombie kills. And the fights and the fear? It’s all there.

Nothing is accidental. Symbolism runs up and down every frame of the film, rarely announcing itself. A tale of two parties - two massive events, two blocks apart. First is the Glitter Bitch Vodka event. Beautifully designed for the many superficial influencers to capture all the insta-worthy shots. Exclusive vibe. Not far away, though, is the long-running Yum party - which once had a chance at being the biggest thing in town, but these days is kind of the lower deck party on the Titanic. Wild, fun, and the place those in the know want to be, but somehow devoid of social status. Yum party is where we’ll meet our heroes of the movie - because how lame would it be if they were from the fancypants party, right?

Yum party is organized and promoted by the tireless, if not struggling, Dre (Katy O’Brian). Dre’s determined team of glamorous performers and overworked staff includes stagefright plagued Samoncé (like Beyoncé but Sam - Jaquel Spivey), lovable drug dealing dancer Nico - who prefers to be called Scrumptious (Tomas Matos), sass-filled show host and club matriarch Ginsey (Nina West), and upper crust social influencer Yasmine (Dominique Jackson) - whose first choice tonight was Glitter Bitch, and of course Dre’s overworked intern Kelsey (Jack Haven). The unconventional horror protagonists fight for their survival as a horde of hungry zombies, mostly attendees from the evening’s two events, shuffle their feet just outside the rolldown gate - instinctually scrolling their phones, even occasionally missing potential food because they can’t look up from their feed.

While our Yum party team isn’t really safe, they are at least surrounded by safe people. The club is their home, and even through the nearly constant jokes, the sense of community is clear. There’s one outlier, though: Barry (Quincy Dunn-Baker).

Dre’s girlfriend Lizzy (Riki Lindhome - who is surprisingly given very few jokes, yet is remarkably likeable regardless) is stuck across town helping OD patient Jane (Eve Lindley), but had earlier dispatched her troglodytic brother Barry to help fix Dre’s plumbing - and now he’s stuck in a world that makes him uncomfortable, as he unintentionally has the same effect on everyone around him. He has some growing to do if he’s going to work together with his end-of-the-world pod. In a routine that sounds impressively like Abbott & Costello’s Who’s on First, Barry slowly begins to understand that he’s part of a world larger than himself.

“They.”
“No, it was the guy who was just here.”
“Mm-mm. They.”
“Yeah, the one guy.”

All of this works because the ensemble works. Maybe it’s Sam’s movie, and maybe it’s Dre’s, but it’s an ensemble piece. The first act is hefty world building, and most of that is the people in the world. Every cast member gets their moments, and each actor knows what to do with them. Dre, Sam, Pops, Ginsey, Scrumptious, Lizzy, Yasmine, Barry, Kelsey - they all have a time to shine, and we couldn’t have more fun watching them do it.

There are so many different levels and kinds of comedy explored in this movie. Expertly timed physical comedy, character-based comedy, and of course, drop-dead one-liners delivered perfectly. I can imagine Rocky Horror-style midnight screenings of this movie for years to come. It’s that funny.

Screenwriters Erin Judge and Tina Romero’s achievement here isn’t limited to the humor, though. This is a well-structured movie, and the third act is entirely symmetrical to the first act. Every concept that is set up is paid off. Each character earns their end, and that’s satisfying to see. Great care was taken to ensure that it’s a movie of its time. Influencers, zombies doomscrolling long past doom, lifesaving information getting around through social media, zombies locating victims via Skinz (a Grindr substitute). This is 2025’s Of the Dead.

Another strong element of QOTD is the music. Whether it’s the Blitz//Berlin score, or the diegetic house and electropop tracks in the Brooklyn club - the movie is a party. Between the Scissor Sisters and Kesha, Queens makes a strong argument for riding out the definitely inevitable zombiepocalypse with a DJ on hand.

Somewhere in the first 30 minutes, you’ll feel all the story being thrown your way. There’s a lot to set up, and you get the weight of it in those early moments. That being said, the introductions are necessary for all the dominos to fall throughout the next two acts, and any pacing problem dissipates fast. It’s like the climb on the roller coaster - it’s not the part that you paid for, but you need to get to that highest point somehow.

This isn’t a George Romero Dead movie. It’s faster, and funnier, and maybe even younger. It has just as much to say, and in a time when drag performers have found themselves in the wrong type of spotlight, having drag queens as horror movie heroes may feel really good to a suffering community. An overwhelming message comes through - even when the world is falling apart around you, living matters.

Go see it in a theater. Bring friends who will laugh the whole time. There are a lot of surprises, and the credits hold a bunch of familiar names. It’s a ride, and I give it 9 out of 10 decaying divas.

Aaron Barrocas is an award-winning screenwriter, filmmaker, and editor living in Los Angeles. He has spent the past 25 years as an active part of the entertainment industry.
AaronBarrocas.com