“Just breathe… It’s almost over.”

Story: Lori Granger has had a rough time in high school. Her mother Rose was accused of killing Lori’s dad on prom night almost 18 years ago, but even after being acquitted? That shadow lingers. So Lori decides to run for prom queen against the popular Plastics Wolves, a group of catty popular girls, because she wants “…something to change.” Instead, nominees start dropping like flies. Who’s the mysterious Red Raincoat doing the killing? Don’t worry, you’ll guess almost immediately.

Scares: Zero. Zip. Just the horror that I wasted an hour and a half on this.
Splat Factor:  Plenty of low budget gore.

Subgenre: Senior Year Slashers
Year Released: 2025
Remake, Sequel or OG (Original Ghoul)?: Based on “The Prom Queen”
by R. L. Stine. Part of Netflix’s Fear Street universe or whatever.

Trick or Treat?: Queen is the kind of movie that’s the textbook definition of a streaming service cash grab. No style, no substance, nothing to recommend. “Sarah Fier Lives!” may be written in a bathroom stall, to hark back to the entertaining Fear Street trilogy, but Queen is surely the death knell of this franchise. 

I lay all of this at the feet director Matt Palmer, who hadn’t helmed a film since 2018. There’s no tension building, no suspense, nothing but kills and filler scenes that don’t do anything to draw attention. Plot beats are just checklist items in the screenplay, rather than anything meaningful that would build character arcs, pull you into the world of the story, or anything that would make you feel something besides boredom. It’s paint by numbers plotting that’s about as subtle as an axe to the back of the head.

Bonus? The writing is ham handed and feels like it was cranked out on a deadline. (I am extremely knowledgeable about this type of writing.) Hey, Lori Granger’s mom is Rosemary – of course there’s a Rosemary’s Baby comment. Queen doesn’t have much going for it, least of all any sense of nuance.

Each of the popular Wolves are forgettable. Partially because they don’t get enough time onscreen before they’re toast, but mostly because the storyline doesn’t care about them beyond being slasher fodder. Ella Rubin tries to inject some characterization and growth for her mean girl Melissa, but it’s sloppily written and paced so it’s too little too late. No amount of talent could make her turnaround compelling, though Rubin gets very close to succeeding. Seriously, the entire cast deserved better than this.

The gory FX is fun though, with moments of odd comedy. Especially wild is a scene where a character gets both hands whacked off, and then tries to use a doorknob. But in a few instances the CGI is way too obvious, and the kills have no emotional punch. Red Raincoat doesn’t even get their time in the sun as a killer to be scared of. The majority of the cast only see the killer at the climax, then the killer is unmasked ala Scooby Doo.

Hoo boy, that climax. Red Raincoat uses an axe to barrel through the dance floor, and it isn’t scary enough for horror, nor funny enough for comedy. It’s just dumb. And there’s still 20 minutes to go. Because there’s a sudden reveal at the midway point, I the surprise twist later on is no surprise. Sure, it was slightly different from what I’d called 30 minutes into the story, but still predictable enough for a shrug instead of a gasp.

The pièce de résistance? A silly prom dance-off between Lori and Tiffany that interrupts what could have been a meaningful face-off . It’s forced into the film as if a Netflix honcho saw Wednesday and said “yeah, a dance scene is what the kids dig!” This record scratch moment is a perfect encapsulation of the film itself; messy, try-hard, and stupid.

Score: 1 out of 5 pumpkins