“This is not a George Romero movie,” one character says partway through “Queens of the Dead,” co-writer/director Tina Romero’s fun, queer-themed zombie comedy. That line carries extra weight because of who it comes from, though I can’t explain further without spoiling a decent surprise. Instead, I’ll note that most of the winning strategies used by Tina Romero, daughter of George, are almost as blunt and effective as the ones used by her dad. For starters, she’s cast a group of queer performers, which makes a fair difference in a genre movie about a zombie apocalypse that pre-empts a Bushwick drag show.
Ms. Romero’s also made up her zombies so that their Colloidal Silver skin tones resemble a more glam version of the blue-hued flesh-eaters in dad’s “Dawn of the Dead.” There’s also some social commentary, specifically about the zombifying effect of influencer culture. That part weirdly brings to mind Daddy Romero’s later zombie movies, in which he takes aim at what he occasionally called the great “media octopus.”
Still, with all that said, Ms. Romero’s “Queens of the Dead” does stand apart if only because, as she says in the movie’s press notes, “I’m a bit less cynical than my father.” A well-lit spirit of camaraderie shifts the movie’s focus from surviving the night to putting on a show. So “Queens of the Dead” is more about one traumatized performer’s big return to the stage—Sam (Jaquel Spivey), a beloved hospital aide who only agrees to play at Club Yum after their headliner, Yasmine (Dominique Jackson), unexpectedly drops out—than it is about how he’ll apply his rediscovered mojo to fighting off the undead.
There is, ultimately, a song number at the end, so you could even argue that the movie is not-so-stealth musical. That’s mainly refreshing because Ms. Romero and her collaborators, including hair and makeup designers Mitchell Beck and Christina Grant, co-writer Erin Judge, and director of photography Shannon Madden, all of whom capably blend light zombie elements into this fizzy genre homage. The proof of the movie’s success can likely be gauged by how much more you’ll care about the club and how its individual denizens get on with each other than about whether or not they’ll survive.
Sam’s one of several drag queens who plan to go on at Club Yum the night of the zombie outbreak. And as in Mr. Romero’s earlier zombie movies, this one’s ensemble cast is divided by fraying social dynamics, though in this case the group isn’t always sure of what separates them from each other. The only clear outsider is Barry (Quincy Dunn-Baker), an Archie Bunker Lite-style Staten Island homophobe who’s uncomfortable around so many gay people, but tries to be civil since he’s playing handyman for the club at the request of his sister Lizzy (Riki Lindhome), who also happens to be Sam’s hospital co-worker.
More tension flares between Sam and his fellow drag queens, particularly jealous Nico (Tomás Matos), than between Barry and anyone else. Barry feels like a throwback to an earlier time when you might be able to laugh about a bigot who repeats talking points from his post-Limbaugh, manosphere-style podcasts (his awkward parroting of the word “untoward” lands a decent-sized laugh). Now this mostly harmless stock character seems very quaint and sometimes mild to the point of distraction. He’s also a clear enough sign that the movie’s humor is mostly inclusive and sometimes unexpectedly inoffensive. Even a pair of jokes about cruising on Grindr feels like it could have—and maybe should have—more bite.
Thankfully, the movie that Ms. Romero and her colleagues deliver handily coasts on bonhomie. Even conceptually thin jokes about living for the ‘gram mostly land since they’re fully-realized jokes, with attention paid to comic gestures and silly facial expressions, instead of an amusing concept with a mediocre punchline. At least a couple of groan-worthy lines land decisively anyway because the actors are trusted enough and encouraged to stick them.
A few heavy-handed stabs at commentary aside, “Queens of the Dead” gets by with good, flirty cheer. You can just as easily imagine the movie playing well on a bar TV monitor or at a midnight movie screening. Everything that the movie nails makes it harder to care about the nagging little details that might have made an already entertaining crowd-pleaser even more exciting. Ms. Romero’s movie achieves most of what it sets out to, right down to the winningly kitschy effect of its concluding song number. So yes, “Queens of the Dead” is and isn’t a love letter to dear old dad, more like a joyful tribute to the queer community in garish, gut-munching drag. Go with a friend and/or a hot date; the party vibes are irresistible.
