Available on Shudder
Not everyone may realize that Tina Romero, daughter of George A. Romero, is stepping into the horror-comedy arena herself. With Queens of the Dead, she blends character drama with splattery action as a zombie outbreak erupts during a packed Saturday night at a queer nightclub. For the performers and staff, the chaos at first feels like just another wild evening, until they realize they completely missed the evacuation alarm.
When the music is pounding inside Club Yam, no one is going to hear much of anything. Personal drama is already bubbling under the surface when the outbreak begins, and suddenly everyone is scrambling for safety. One storyline centres on Sam (Jaquel Spivey), who feels uneasy about returning to the stage after a traumatic past performance. When club owner Yasmine (Dominique Jackson) announces the show cannot go on as planned, someone else will have to step in. When Sam gets the call, he is forced to confront whether he is ready, emotionally and professionally, to drag.
Not long after, the film introduces a colourful supporting cast. Barry (Quincy Dunn-Baker) plays the closest thing the group has to a straight man, the practical handyman who keeps things running while surrounded by larger-than-life club personalities.
His sister Lizzy (Riki Lindhome) splits her time between working at the club and at the hospital where Sam is employed. The nightclub features multiple drag performers each night. While Niko (Tomas Matos) and Ginsey (Nina West) stand out with memorable moments, there is also a blink-and-you-miss-it cameo that quietly ties the film to zombie cinema history. Without the groundbreaking makeup work of Tom Savini in the early Romero films, scenes like the film’s gloriously ridiculous dance-fight against the undead, fought with sporks and high-heeled shoes, probably would not feel nearly as joyful.
Although the film never directly recreates Thriller by Michael Jackson, the influence is hard to miss. In particular, the exterior scenes with two nurses making their way toward the club carry a familiar visual rhythm. The fog and narration are absent, but the staging and camera movement echo the iconic music video.
Sam’s emotional arc remains the heart of the film. He must decide whether stepping back onto the stage is possible after everything he went through. The show must go on, as they say. The question is whether he can reclaim that space for himself. While Sam’s storyline is quieter than the film’s more chaotic ensemble moments, it grounds the story. When he finally returns to performance, it becomes a small act of reclamation.
This ragtag group of performers and staff gives the film its personality. The premise invites comparison to Zombie Strippers!, where the dancers become even more popular as they literally fall apart onstage. For this film, Queens of the Dead, the humour lands in unexpected places. I suspect there’s a bit of satire included, but one has to read between the lines. With films like Ravers (2018) and Return of the Living Dead: Rave to the Grave (2005), the concept is not exactly the same.
The approach here feels contemporary, especially in how it portrays queer community spaces and the anxieties that can surround them. The film never explicitly says the word “STD,” but the metaphor is clearly hovering in the background, adding another layer beneath the film’s surface.
4 Stars out of 5
Queens of the Dead Trailer
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