George A. Romero didn’t invent zombies, but he certainly made them mainstream. Since the release of his masterwork Night of the Living Dead, the fictional creatures have been reimagined and reformatted to fit almost every scenario imaginable. In the last 25 years alone, Scooby Doo has encountered them (Scooby Doo on Zombie Island). We’ve also seen what Nazi zombies (Dead Snow) and zombies in transit (Train to Busan) look like. Most recently, one of the biggest franchises in the world released a miniseries exploring what would happen if a zombie virus infected a majority of its cinematic universe (Marvel Zombies). As if the latter isn’t a big enough hint that the subgenre probably needs a break, it’s also proof that there’s still a lot of fun to be had. That’s just one of many things Romero’s own lineage does in the new film Queens of the Dead.

 

In her feature directorial debut, Tina Romero (George’s granddaughter!), effectively creates a love letter to the LGBTQ+ and horror communities - and all by asking one simple question: what if a zombie apocalypse unfolded at a drag bar in the heart of New York City? Over the course of its 100 minute runtime, the film enlists a group of eclectic drag queens and dramatic club kids to answer that question. Between the zombies on the outside and the egos on the outside, it truly does become a night to remember…

 

Unlike most other zombie films, this one strikes an excellent balance between horror and humor. Though it is clearly meant to be more of a comedy. While the dead are a major part of the story, like the original Night of the Living Dead, the film focuses more on the dread and paranoia that comes from being locked up with others more - and to maximum effect. For example, the first time a character actually uses a weapon to fight a zombie they actually end up hurting someone else. For the rest of the film, that character is barred from touching anything sharp. 

 

The characters are the film’s greatest strength as they all feel so flushed out. This is particularly surprising considering there are so many. In films with bigger ensembles, it’s often easier for many to get lost in the shuffle, but the way Romero makes use of every person is reminiscent of Altman. Highlights include Jacquel Spivey and Tomas Maria, whose built-in rivalry alone feels worthy of a spin-off. Jack Haven also continues to prove they can do no wrong as they steal several scenes despite their character being immobile for much of the film.

 

As funny as it is to see these characters lose it though (especially in such a short amount of time), the concept of having these characters face self-doubt and isolation on this kind of scale - on top of the pressure they already face in the world - elevates the story. On top of the horror and the humor, the film feels like a commentary on how hard the LGBTQ+ society has to fight to justify its own existence. 

 

Ironically, it feels like Romero struggled to reckon with this idea herself because in the film there actually isn’t a lot of death. That’s not to say that everybody makes it to the end. And, playing Devil’s advocate, it’s possible that may have been her intention to mark this as an antithesis of the ending of her grandfather’s original work. Still, as great as the characters are, the film also eventually starts to falter under their weight. Towards the end, some plot armor shatters revealing some characters have overstayed their welcome. While some arcs go unresolved, others are rushed to a conclusion.

 

One of the film’s other shortcomings is its scarcity of blood and gore. Now, there are still some memorably bloody moments (one involves a baby). Although this may have also been done purposely, it’s worth pointing out because the film features a cameo from the “Godfather of Gore” himself, Tom Savini! And it should be against the laws of film to have him cameo unless a body gets visibly torn to shreds or he is the person getting torn to shreds (Planet Terror heads know).

 

It may not be as wicked as Weapons or as camp as Clown in a Cornfield, but Queens of the Dead is still another one of the year’s enjoyable entries in the horror genre. Whether or not Romero intended this to be the total opposite of her grandfather’s work, one thing remains certain. She’s having just as much breaking the rules now as he did back then. And she’s doing it all in service of the film’s most applicable message: If you can’t be yourself, is it even worth living?