Main cast: Nick Carter (Jack Sullivan), Jeff Timmons (Billy Sullivan), Joey Fatone (Whiskey Joe), Howie Dorough (The Vaquero), Erik-Michael Estrada (Komodo), Carrie Keagan (Daisy Jane), Lauren Kitt-Carter (Sirene), Chris Kirkpatrick (Mayor Shelby), AJ McLean (Johnny Vermillion), and Debra Wilson (Apocalypta)
Director: Danny Roew
Boybands, much like milk, have expiry dates. Over time, their looks erode thanks to bad dietary choices, the pounds pile on, and their fans—once screaming hordes—move on to newer, shinier idols. What’s left behind is a peculiar purgatory for ex-famous pop stars clinging to relevance, and Dead 7 is undoubtedly the movie on repeat in that purgatory’s theaters.
Penned by Nick Carter himself (yes, the Backstreet Boy), this undead extravaganza is a post-apocalyptic western zombie flick because apparently, one genre wasn’t enough. Naturally, he stars as the lead gunslinger, Jack Sullivan, because if you’re writing the script, why not make yourself the hero?
He ropes in bandmates AJ McLean and Howie Dorough for backup, although the hottest one Kevin Richardson wisely stayed far, far away. Joining them are a smattering of other boyband alumni, including NSYNC’s Joey Fatone and Chris Kirkpatrick, because where one ex-boyband member goes, the scent of expired fame draws others like moths to a flame.
The plot, if you can call it that, is simple: Apocalypta, a villainess who looks like she raided a discount Halloween store, controls an army of zombies and decides to terrorize a small town. The townsfolk band together to form a The Magnificent Seven-style posse—except you’ll lose count because the roster includes a ninja-samurai… person… for no discernible reason. Yes, really. Don’t ask questions; Nick Carter is busy.
The film is classic Asylum—cheap, campy, and shot in what appears to be a wilderness area that charges per tumbleweed. Debra Wilson’s Apocalypta chews through the scenery like she’s been starved for weeks, while the rest of the cast ranges from “earnestly trying” to “wooden enough to qualify as set dressing”. AJ McLean, bless his overacting heart, delivers every line like he’s auditioning for a high school play.
The script is a blender of western and zombie clichés set to puree, but instead of a delicious smoothie, you get a tasteless sludge. Nick Carter clearly threw every trope he could think of into the mix, but the result is more Halloween party improv than cinematic gold.
And let’s not forget the zombies themselves, who are, ironically, the most convincing actors in the entire production. The boybanders, outacted by the undead extras. That’s a sentence you don’t get to write every day.
Is Dead 7 a good movie? Absolutely not. It’s cheap, hokey, and largely devoid of memorable lines or scenes. But is it watchable? Well, that depends on your blood-alcohol level. This is the kind of film you endure once, ideally with friends and a lot of alcohol, just so you can tell other horror fans, “Oh yeah, I’ve seen the zombie western boyband movie!”
Ultimately, Dead 7 is less a movie and more a relic—a shlocky time capsule for anyone nostalgic for the days when these guys graced the covers of Tiger Beat. Watch it once, laugh at the absurdity, and then bury it deep in your memory, where it belongs. Much like boybands themselves, it’s a fleeting novelty best enjoyed ironically.
