“We’re never ready…it’s how it always starts…” says Dre, a drag promoter and DJ reassuring the bar staff that they can handle a large crowd clamoring for a good show. The same can be said about entering a zombie apocalypse. No matter how much you think you’re prepared for it, it’s an entirely different feeling when you’re scrounging for weapons and making sure everyone in your circle is safe and sound–it doesn’t matter if your bloodthirsty undead zoom (and are, apparently, well-hung?) or if they are slow, determined, and menacing. Tina Romero’s Queens of the Dead takes the classic zombie flick and upends our expectations by infusing it with queer, drag grit. It pays homage to the films that came before it, but it re-invents the genre with how a found family bands together in order to survive. When these bad girlies rise from the dead, their nails are manicured and they stumble with more than a kitten heel. Romero’s film is sharp, bloody, and sassy entertainment, and it serves as a reminder that queer folks will always keep coming back.
Zombie films have been set in suburbia, shopping malls, on moving trains, and in elementary schools, so why not a gay club? There is so much commentary to be mined with characters that society has pushed to the margins, especially as right-wing politicians work overtime to erase the community at large. Yum is ready to put on a huge show for the Easter holiday, but a lot is falling apart behind the scenes. When the show’s headliner, Yasmine (Dominique Jackson), abandons the show at the last minute for a more lucrative gig, Dre reconnects with Jaquel Spivey’s Sam, a drag artist turned nurse who bailed on Dre’s big break as a promoter. Nina West’s Ginsey has a bitchy exterior, but she just might be hiding soothing, motherly energy. Tomás Matos’s Nico wants to be taken seriously as their alter ego, Scrumptious, and not just as one of Ginsey’s backup dancers. Jack Huston’s Kelsey is adorably whiny. Oh, and the toilet is clogged.
When the undead infiltrate Yum’s walls, people are too busy looking at their phones, taking selfies, and checking TikTok to notice. These zombies can shuffle in heels (you straight guys officially have no excuse to stumble anymore), and the script, by Romero and Erin Judge, hones in on the time spent staring at screens. Influencers look eerily similar to the zombie drag queens before they have been bitten or had their necks gnawed on. Becoming braindead by the admiration that we seek in the glow of our phones is a fabulous extension of how Dawn of the Dead commented on senseless consumerism. One could even argue that the army of the dead trying to break into Yum looks similar to how straight audiences have appropriated queer and POC culture. It does all this while never abandoning its silly, horny comedy mixed with its horror elements.
Katy O’Brian channels Dre’s frustrations to become a de facto leader, but this ensemble feels tighter because of how these characters discovered each other as part of Yum’s family. Rather than survivors being tossed together in a strange place, the artists of Yum bicker and bond as they plan their escape. Scrumptious feels shoved aside because no one takes them seriously. Sam waffles on why he didn’t capitalize on his drag alter ego’s potential when he knew the iron was hot. Margaret Cho’s Pops scooters in to add some planned reassurance as a shelter-in-place order enters the weary hours of the night.
Each member of the cast participates in giving the film some equal weight with Spivey and O’Brian at the center. Queens allows both of these performers to play against type of the last famous role they inhabited (Spivey in Mean Girls, O’Brian in Love Lies Bleeding), but they both allow their natural screen presence to take hold of the audience. For us who have loved Nina West ever since we were introduced to her, she nails a broad role but manages to find some pathos along the way. She has always been a solidly funny, game comedienne, but she matches that sly wit with her naturally giving spirit. It’s Matos that steals the show, though. They buck, they flirt, they toss their hair while letting every cutting barb land, and Matos, thankfully, never lets us forget Scrumptious’ need to belong.
While Queens cleverly serves as a tale of found family determined ghouls, it’s cunningly funny. Drag queens gearing up for battle and a well-performed rendition of Kesha’s “Blow” is one of the most entertaining sequences I’ve seen all year. They might be undead, but Queens is here to serve life.
Queens of the Dead will next play at Fantasia International Film Festival on August 2.
