Review: Queens of the Dead

Director:  Tina Romero

Stars:  Katy O’Brian, Jaquel Spivey, Jack Haven

“Drag is not life or death; it’s fun!” declares Divine-a-like queen Ginsey (Nina West) to Sam (Jaquel Spivey) in the dressing room of a neon-hued Brooklyn gay bar, but in the land of Tina Romero’s Queens of the Dead it’s all three. A new horror comedy that dares to bring gloss and sparkle to the tried, tired and tested zombie genre, Romero’s offering places a premium on sass, snark and shade, representing with love a community under attack from a lethal epidemic that – quite fittingly – originates within a conservative institution (the Catholic church).

Julie J’s Zombie Queen gets bitten while seeking out a potential hook-up behind the pulpit and transforms into the first of the movie’s glamorous undead. Not even death is enough to stop her from Turning Up, however, which causes all sorts of problems for the rest of the film’s ensemble as a national emergence breaks out and threatens to torpedo their drag night.

I Saw the TV Glow‘s Jack Haven features prominently as intern Kelsey, who winds up sporting a nasty axe wound after handyman Barry (Quincy Dunn-Baker) tries to take down the Zombie Queen when she starts tearing up (or tearing apart) the dance floor. Haven isn’t the only familiar face from an A24 breakout movie. Katy O’Brian swaps body-building in Love Lies Bleeding for DJing here as Dre. Considering she’s also out there propping up Edgar Wright’s The Running Man in cinemas right now, this might just be O’Brian’s moment. Special effects make-up legend Tom Savini (who himself made a Night of the Living Dead remake) also puts in a guest appearance as New York’s mayor, weakly trying to appease the panicking masses once a wide alert goes out.

And while latecomer Pops (Margaret Cho) brings a steely sense of urgency – along with a plan to escape via ferry – Queens of the Dead is loathe to leave its key location, belying the production’s evidently limited means. Even with plenty of neon lights the picture tends to look flat, baring the anonymous sheen of so much digital filmmaking in the streaming age. But if it lacks a certain cinematic richness, Queens makes up for this in the zesty efforts of the ensemble. Redolent of the John Waters flicks that proved an indelible template for counter culture cinema in the latter half of the 20th century, conventional acting abilities aren’t so much a necessity as the requisite ability to land a catty putdown or self-deprecating aside.

With so much spicy irreverence being served up from all quarters, the (slim) efforts at soap opera drama feel a little like filler, but they pay-off come the end. More commonly Queens of the Dead sticks to the vibe it’s most confident with (funny bickering, pulpy deliveries and even a makeover montage) and the bonhomie is fire enough to forgive other deficiencies. Martin Macphail, Dean Rode and Tristan Tarr’s pared down synth score even calls to mind the minimalistic efforts of John Carpenter, kinda fitting especially when the film (too) briefly picks up an Escape from New York vibe as it nominally leaves the club. Loved the high-vis scooter parade.

Perhaps inevitably, the horror here is minimal. The emphasis is on having a good time. Flippant silliness is the order of the day and it is dutifully served. But Queens also serves as a spiky platform for queer politics. The poor state of trans healthcare is given a righteous sounding board in a B-story following Dre’s wife Lizzy (Riki Lindhome) and OD patient Jane (Eve Lindley), who’s been cornered into sourcing their hormone therapies illegally. Perhaps the most radical gestures are the ones in plain sight. For all their petty squabbling this group is there for one another. Pretty much everyone takes a hand in caring for Kelsey. And the sentiment of support shines in Ginsey’s efforts to encourage Sam to resurrect their forma stage persona Samoncé. And in the sentiment of Dre’s booty-busting last stand. In an America that is attacking its minorities, it’s always life or death. Might as well prioritise the fun. Here resistance is euphoric.

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