A campy, glittery, and surprisingly heartfelt addition to the zombie canon that proves the undead apocalypse looks better in heels
Look, I’ll admit it—when I first heard about a zombie movie featuring drag queens, I wasn’t sure what to expect. The premise sounded like it could go one of two ways: either brilliantly camp or a complete disaster. After finishing “Queens of the Dead” on streaming, I can confidently say this film is everything I hoped for and more. It’s campy, yes, but it moves at a pace that never lets you catch your breath, and what struck me most was how seriously the actors take their roles despite the absurdity of the situation. Who would’ve thought drag queens and zombies would work so perfectly together?
The Legacy and the Vision
“Queens of the Dead” marks the feature directorial debut of Tina Romero, daughter of the legendary George A. Romero, the man who essentially created the modern zombie genre with “Night of the Living Dead.” That’s a lot of pressure, but Tina carved out her own space in the family sandbox, creating something that honors her father’s legacy while being distinctly, unapologetically her own.
The film didn’t come together overnight. Tina spent ten years developing the script with co-writer Erin Judge, and the inspiration came from an unexpected place. As a DJ in New York City’s LGBTQ+ nightlife scene, Tina witnessed firsthand the drama, creativity, and scrappy resilience of the queer club world. The lightbulb moment came when she read about real-life drag show drama on social media—a promoter’s manifesto asking “When will the queer community stop devouring its own?” That single sentence sparked the entire concept: what if the metaphorical devouring became literal?
Tina stayed true to her father’s zombie rules—they’re slow and shuffling, one bite turns you, and you have to destroy the brain to kill them. But everything else? That’s pure Tina. The zombies have silvery, glittery skin (because they needed to look fabulous, obviously), and they’re addicted to their phones even in death, creating this darkly comic commentary on our digital obsession. As one character notes, they’re “decaying while they hit refresh.”
The film was shot primarily at The Art Factory in Paterson, New Jersey, a former textile mill that doubled convincingly as a grungy Brooklyn warehouse. With a modest budget, the production relied heavily on favors, community support, and pure passion. There’s even a special thanks to Tom Cruise in the credits because the “Mission: Impossible” production allowed Katy O’Brian to take a week off to film this project.
The Characters That Make It Work
What makes “Queens of the Dead” truly shine is its ensemble cast. These aren’t just stock characters filling roles—they’re fully realized people with their own arcs, conflicts, and moments of vulnerability.
Sam/Samoncé (Jaquel Spivey) is the emotional heart of the film. A former drag queen who now works as a nurse, Sam left the stage after a panic attack during a sold-out show. He’s spent years hiding behind scrubs instead of sequins, but when his friend and coworker Lizzy asks him to save the night by performing again, he’s forced to confront everything he ran away from. Spivey, who earned acclaim on Broadway in “A Strange Loop,” delivers a wonderfully layered performance that moves from demure and anxious to confident and commanding. What’s particularly groundbreaking is that Sam is a plus-size, Black, queer character who gets to be the hero—something horror has historically denied to bodies like his. The film treats him with dignity and gives him a complete character arc that’s about reclaiming his power and passion.
Dre (Katy O’Brian) is the stressed-out club producer and DJ trying to hold everything together on what might be the venue’s last night. She’s a butch lesbian with a pregnant wife, and she’s at a crossroads: does she keep chasing the dream of nightlife, or does she grow up and get a “real job” to support her growing family? O’Brian brings a grounded, Kermit-the-Frog-managing-the-Muppets energy to the role. She’s constantly putting out fires (sometimes literally), managing egos, and trying to keep everyone alive, all while realizing her priorities need to shift. O’Brian, fresh off scene-stealing roles in “Love Lies Bleeding” and “Twisters,” finally gets a lead role that showcases her range beyond action sequences.
Ginsey Tonic (Nina West) is the house mother, the maternal figure who’s been doing drag for years and knows the scene inside and out. Nina West, a beloved contestant from “RuPaul’s Drag Race,” brings warmth and comedy to the role while also showing Ginsey’s fierce protective instincts. She’s not just comic relief—she’s the glue that holds the community together.
Nico/Scrumptious (Tomás Matos) is the ambitious baby queen, the newcomer desperate to prove themselves and make a name on the scene. They’re also dealing drugs on the side, which creates its own complications. What could have been a one-note antagonistic character becomes sympathetic in Matos’s hands. Nico is driven by insecurity and a deep need for validation, and watching them evolve through the crisis adds unexpected depth to the film.
Yasmine (Dominique Jackson) is the Instagram-famous headliner who cancels at the last minute for a better-paying gig with “Glitter Bitch Vodka.” Jackson, iconic from Ryan Murphy’s “Pose,” plays Yasmine as gloriously selfish and supremely confident. She’s a star who knows her worth, even if that makes her difficult to work with.
Barry (Quincy Dunn-Baker) is the token straight guy, Dre’s brother-in-law who’s there to fix the plumbing and who listens to MAGA podcasts. He’s uncomfortable around so many queer people but tries to be civil. The film could have made him a villain, but instead he becomes a fish-out-of-water character whose awkward attempts at allyship (and his repeated misuse of the word “untoward”) land some of the film’s biggest laughs.
Lizzy (Riki Lindhome) is Dre’s wife, a nurse who’s hiding a pregnancy from her spouse because she knows the timing is terrible. She’s Sam’s coworker and the person who convinces him to return to the stage. Her journey through the zombie-infested city to get back to Dre provides some of the film’s most tense moments.
Supporting players include Margaret Cho as Pops, a tough-talking butch lesbian with surprising warmth; Cheyenne Jackson as Jimmy, a smooth-talking bartender; and Jack Haven as Kelsey, Dre’s scatterbrained, anxious intern. There’s even a cameo from horror makeup legend Tom Savini as the mayor, who delivers the meta line “This is not a George Romero movie.”
What It’s Really About
Strip away the glitter and gore, and “Queens of the Dead” is fundamentally about queer survival, community, and found family. The film explores how marginalized people have always had to band together to survive hostile environments—the zombie apocalypse is just a very literal version of that.
The social commentary is here, true to George Romero’s tradition, but it’s delivered with a lighter touch. The zombies’ phone addiction speaks to our collective screen obsession. The influencer culture gets skewered (Yasmine ditching for a vodka sponsorship, the zombies still staring at their phones in death). Religious hypocrisy gets called out in the opening scene where a closeted pastor becomes patient zero. The film asks what happens when we’re so plugged in that we can’t tell a real crisis from manufactured panic.
But the commentary never overwhelms the story. This is a film about Sam finding his voice again. About Dre learning what really matters. About a fractured community putting aside petty drama to face a real threat together. The password to escape on a boat? “Family”—and the film makes it clear that family includes everyone at the club, blood relation or not.
The Style and Execution
Tina Romero’s direction is confident for a first-time feature filmmaker. She clearly knows this world—the backstage chaos, the performative cattiness, the underlying love beneath the shade. The pacing never drags; scenes move quickly, dialogue crackles, and the action sequences are choreographed with creativity (a zombie trapped in a go-go cage, death drops that are literal, drag queens using bulletin boards as weapons).
The zombie makeup, with its silvery-glittery skin, is both a budget-conscious choice and a brilliant aesthetic decision. These aren’t your grandfather’s rotting corpses—they’re fabulous even in decay. The music, composed by Blitz//Berlin, pays homage to the scores of George Romero’s “Dawn of the Dead” and “Day of the Dead” while incorporating thumping house music. There’s an unforgettable sequence set to Ke$ha’s “Blow” that perfectly captures the film’s energy.
Cinematographer Shannon Madden bathes the film in vibrant colors—this is not a muted, grim apocalypse. The production design, hair, and makeup all work overtime to create a world that feels lived-in and authentic to queer nightlife culture.
The screenplay by Tina Romero and Erin Judge is sharp and witty. Every character gets memorable lines, and the banter feels natural rather than forced. The jokes land consistently, but so do the emotional beats. When Sam finally takes the stage at the end (yes, there’s a musical number—this is basically a stealth musical), it feels earned.
The Critical and Audience Response
“Queens of the Dead” premiered at the Tribeca Film Festival in June 2025, where it won the Audience Award for Best Narrative Feature. It was subsequently picked up by Independent Film Company and Shudder for North American distribution, hitting theaters in October 2025 before streaming on Shudder.
Critical reception has been overwhelmingly positive. On Rotten Tomatoes, the film holds a 92% approval rating from 48 critics. The consensus reads: “Setting the stage to slay all day, Tina Romero’s feature debut is a glowing zombie-fest filled with humor and heart, proving that there’s more than enough room in the genre for these Queens of the Dead.” Metacritic gave it a score of 68 out of 100, indicating “generally favorable reviews.”
Roger Ebert’s site praised the film’s “flirty cheer” and noted that it works as both a bar movie and a midnight screening. Variety called it “a horror comedy chock-full of fun and meaningful ideas” with “gestural sweetness.” Multiple reviewers highlighted Jaquel Spivey’s breakthrough performance and Katy O’Brian’s commanding presence.
Of course, not everyone loved it. Some critics felt the film tried to be too many things at once, juggling horror, comedy, and drama without fully committing to any single tone. The IMDB user rating sits at 5.1 out of 10, suggesting more divisive audience response. Some viewers found it too campy, while others felt the social commentary was too heavy-handed or that it didn’t go far enough.
But here’s the thing: “Queens of the Dead” isn’t trying to please everyone. It’s a film made by and for the queer community, and it wears that specificity proudly. If you’re not the target audience, you might miss the inside jokes, the cultural references, the particular ways queer people communicate affection through insults. And that’s okay. Not every film needs to be universal.
Why It Matters
“Queens of the Dead” matters because representation in horror—in any genre, really—still matters. Queer characters are too often relegated to supporting roles, comic relief, or tragic victims. Here, they’re the heroes. They’re complex, flawed, funny, brave, and fully human. The film features queer joy rather than queer trauma, which is refreshing in a genre that has historically punished difference.
It matters because Tina Romero is part of a new generation of horror filmmakers bringing fresh perspectives to familiar tropes. She’s not just riding her father’s coattails—she’s building on his foundation while making it her own. She’s queering the zombie canon in the best possible way.
It matters because it’s a film about community resilience at a time when queer communities are under increasing attack. The metaphor is obvious but effective: when the world becomes hostile, we band together. We use our creativity, our humor, our fierce love for each other to survive. And we do it while looking fabulous.
Final Thoughts
“Queens of the Dead” isn’t perfect. Some plot threads feel underdeveloped, some character arcs could use more time, and the film occasionally sacrifices horror tension for comedy (or vice versa). The tonal shifts can be jarring if you’re not prepared for a movie that veers from slapstick to sincere sentiment to genuine scares within the same scene.
But you know what? I didn’t mind any of that. This film made me laugh out loud multiple times. It made me care about these characters. It delivered creative zombie kills and genuinely touching moments in equal measure. It’s the kind of movie you want to watch with a group of friends, shouting at the screen, cheering for your favorites, gasping at the surprises.
Most importantly, it feels alive in a way that big-budget franchises often don’t. You can feel the love that went into every frame, the community that rallied to make it happen on a shoestring budget, the passion of a first-time director with something to prove. It’s scrappy and imperfect and wholly itself.
So yes, drag queens and zombies work. They work beautifully. They work because both are about transformation, about creating new identities, about refusing to die even when the world wants you gone. They work because Tina Romero understood that the heart of her father’s zombie films was always the people, not the monsters. And she filled her film with people worth rooting for, even when they’re covered in glitter and zombie guts.
If you’re looking for a film that’s fun, fierce, and unapologetically queer, “Queens of the Dead” deserves your attention. It’s streaming now, and I highly recommend gathering your chosen family, queuing it up, and preparing for a party that even a zombie apocalypse can’t shut down.
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