Broadway’s ‘Death Becomes Her’ Takes Things To A New Level Of Queerness

We can all agree there is an inherent queerness to everything Broadway, so when you make a gay cult classic like Death Becomes Her into a musical, you’ll inevitably get double the amount of gay for your money’s worth.

Death Becomes Her (1992) is a satirical body horror comedy film starring Meryl Streep and Goldie Hawn. Two women fixated with fame and youth drink a potion of immortality, which lets them take their rivalry beyond the grave. The motion picture’s over-the-top camp and glamour have inspired themes for RuPaul’s Drag Race, Trinity the Tuck and Jujubee’s “‘Til Death Becomes Us,” and Sabrina Carpenter’s “Taste” music video,  where she kisses Jenna Ortega.

In an interview with Vanity Fair, film writer David Koepp reflects on why the gays have taken to a story about two women’s toxic obsession over a man, and more importantly, over each other. He quips, “You really can’t underestimate the entertainment value of two women swinging shovels at each other,” referring to the scene in which Streep and Hawn duel with gardening tools, a spiritual predecessor to a certain viral YouTube footage.

In November 2024, the entertainment value—and unmistakable romance—of two women fighting with shovels was brought to the big stage at the Lunt-Fontanne Theatre. The Broadway cast breathes new life into the characters Madeline Ashton (played by Megan Hilty), Helen Sharp (Jennifer Simard), Ernest Menville (Christopher Sieber), and Viola Van Horn (Michelle Williams).

When it comes to the musical adaptation, Tony Award-winning choreographer Christopher Gatteli confirms that the creative team has reworked the implied queer love story of the screen into an explicit one for the stage. “It’s their love story,” Gatteli says in a recent interview with CBS Sunday Morning. “There was this rivalry [with Madeline and Helen], but they always did have this love, this kind of bond with each other, and we really play into that and explore that.”

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In case the creative team’s gay agenda isn’t crystal clear, the song that introduces us to Megan Hilty’s character is called “For the Gaze (Gays).” As Hilty impersonates various queer icons including Liza Minnelli, Julie Andrews, and Judy Garland as Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz, she belts out, “We all know that this whole damn show is for / The gaze (all for the gays, the gays).” And it’s really hard not to believe her when she’s dressed as a Progress Pride flag and leading a conga line of rainbow-suited men who are thrusting their hips into each other.

And if that isn’t gay enough, what if I told you Madeline and Helen shout out their (quite literally) undying love for each other on the rooftops?

In the second act of the musical, Ernest is hurled off a roof, and the two women are left to ruminate on their newfound immortality. Helen bemoans that their old lives in the spotlight are gone. Madeline joins her, but she doesn’t keep her head down for long.

“Hey, Helen,” Madeline sings, “I think I’m your person.”

“Oh no,” Helen responds, because she knows Madeline is right.

Throughout the show, the term “person” is echoed as a strictly romantic label. Helen calls Ernest her person when they are engaged. Ernest calls Madeline his person during their wedding. When Madeline declares that Helen is her person, they are wearing luxurious, matching purple gowns, like two brides. Then, in a move that nearly killed me, they begin to sing “Alive Forever,” a song that can only be described as their wedding vows:

“’Cause through all the years of fighting / The baiting and switching / The bitching and biting / I’ve never stopped thinking of you.” 

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The lyrics are a confession of love between the two women, finally unveiled after decades of animosity. Ironically, without the gaze (gays) of the adoring public, the two women reach a breakthrough in their relationship status: from frenemies to soulmates. Ernest, ever the victim but also a symbol of compulsory heterosexuality, is no longer necessary. Gone is the pressure of marrying a rich man to impress the public. With their social (and literal) death, the two women are finally free to love each other.

Not to mention, “Alive ’til the stars fade away in an endless night / If I can’t find the way, I’ll follow your light” is by far the most romantic lyric I have ever heard, and an A+ execution of the enemies-to-lovers trope.

The iconic ending of the original film depicts the two women meeting their tragic fate by tumbling down a set of concrete stairs. Their severed heads roll off, and Helen asks Madeline if she remembers where they parked their car with the domestic energy of an old bickering couple.

The musical is kinder. In the final scene, the two women run into a gray-haired Ernest, who is once again talking about how he’s found his person (no, really, this time he has!) to spend his twilight years with.

Helen asks Madeline if she wants something like what Ernest has—a definitive, mortal ending. Between the witty jokes and banter, the duo seriously contemplates whether their choice to stay immortal is the correct one. But as they look into each other’s faces, their worries visibly melt away. The two women start laughing and leave the stage, discussing where they should go next in their eternal honeymoon. As Madeline puts it perfectly, “Isn’t that what people who’ve found each other’s person do?”

All that being said, the queerness of this musical isn’t the main reason I recommend it to anyone who will listen. Death Becomes Her is simply a spectacular show. The various stunning costumes are designed by Paul Tazewell, the first Black man to win an Oscar for costume design. Also, the effects that were done with CGI in the film are adapted extremely well. Madeline’s neck? Twisted. Helen’s stomach? Gaping. My jaw? Dropped. Madeline’s tumble off a majestic flight of stairs, another iconic scene, is a slow-motion acrobatics routine performed by ensemble member and body double Warren Yang—in heels!

While 1992 wasn’t ready to acknowledge the immortal power of a homoerotic rivalry between two awful women, Broadway in 2025 absolutely delivered what us queer folks have always seen in Madeline and Helen’s dynamic. I raise a glass to fictional toxic women getting their happy endings! May they live forever.