To follow in any well-known filmmaker’s footsteps is a tall order. To not only follow one of the most popular and acclaimed horror directors of all time, but to also choose to directly pay homage to and even continue the loosely-connected zombie franchise he originated is something else altogether. That’s precisely what George A. Romero’s daughter, Tina, has chosen to do for her debut feature, Queens of the Dead, which she described herself, introducing it at its world premiere, as a deliberate attempt to queer the canon — the one her father helped to shape. This is, of course, done with a great amount of respect and reverence for his films, as there are frequent references to them (and one character even directly exclaims, “This isn’t a George A. Romero movie!”). It is, admittedly, a delicate balance to strike, and Queens, which is about a ragtag group of queer performers and club kids facing a zombie outbreak in Brooklyn, gets by quite successfully by leaning fully into the first-time filmmaker’s clear skill for comedy.
The horror, such as it is, is another story, but one gets the sense from early on that scares and gore are not quite as important here as the vibe, and the effective use of a strong comedic ensemble. Led by Katy O’Brian, the cast also includes Margaret Cho as an electric scooter-riding badass, the drag queen Nina West, and, perhaps most memorably, Jack Haven (I Saw the TV Glow), who is absolutely hilarious as Kelsey, a harried intern to O’Brian’s character who has the film’s best reactions and comic timing. The script itself is full of biting one-liners and unexpected asides that kill, especially in a crowded theatre, though it falters when it comes to pacing or when it attempts to draw on emotion — you keep waiting for a joke to follow, and when it doesn’t arrive, things can feel a bit confused.
Moreover, your mileage may vary when it comes to how Queens chooses to “update” the zombie metaphor as a source of social commentary and satire, as George Romero always did. Here, the main insight is to have the zombies glued to their smartphones, a joke so obvious that it seems as though the movie ought to, at the very least, play with it a little (maybe a livestreaming zombie personality?), but nothing like that ever happens. It’s a disappointing missed opportunity, particularly as the film’s queerness is otherwise front and centre through the characters, their dynamics, and their New York environment, and so the seeming disinterest in using the genre as an outlet for further commentary is odd.
Nevertheless, there’s at least one good joke landing every few minutes, which is a remarkably high batting average for a debut, nepo-driven or otherwise. With a cast that is so clearly game, and so capable of taking the script’s weaknesses and elevating them, the sum vision makes for a good time, especially if you happen to see it with an audience that cheers when legendary prosthetic artist Tom Savini shows up as the mayor of New York. Misfits unite, indeed.
Published as part of Fantasia Fest 2025 — Dispatch 3.
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