Ryan Coogler's recent project may have revitalized the idea of African American undead, but the origins of this cinematic category trace back to the 1970s cultural movement. One of the most memorable early examples was the 1972 classic Blacula. In that motion picture, the actor's role is turned by Dracula and cursed with the insulting name “Blacula.” Initially conceived as a stereotype, the performer transformed the part into something regal, giving his character an 18th-century backstory as Mamuwalde, a noble royal from Africa.
Years afterward, Eddie Murphy seemed to take inspiration from Marshall, deepening his own protagonist's lore in Wes Craven's take on the Black vampire subgenre: Vampire in Brooklyn. The protagonist Maximillian is a descendant of Dracula whose forebears fled to Egypt, and later to the Bermuda Triangle, after being hunted to the brink of extinction. Vampire in Brooklyn demonstrates that Black vampire stories can be humorous, frightening, and intellectually stimulating simultaneously, earning its position in the canon by juggling all three while honoring the heritage of the category.
Released 30 years ago on October 27th, 1995, Vampire in Brooklyn is currently streaming on a popular platform, making it an essential watch if you need a little comedy with your frights this Halloween.
An Urban Vampire Story
Similar to the royal character in Coming to America (the actor's classic from 1988), Maximillian is pulled to the Big Apple. But instead of traveling from Zamunda to Queens, he arrives from the Bermuda Triangle into Brooklyn, seeking to locate and ensure the survival of his undead bloodline with an heir of his clan.
The character makes his entrance in New York on a phantom vessel whose crew has been inexplicably killed, a homage to Nosferatu. The vessel is discovered by harbor official Silas Green (the comedian) and his nephew Julius Jones (the actor), two of the film's funniest characters. Silas then observes a black wolf jump from the ship, run into an alley, and transform into a human — like the iconic routine from the longer Black or White video. Groovy 1970s-inspired soundtrack kicks in, establishing the tone for a film that expertly mixes horror and humor.
Artistic Goals
Recently after his last installment in the Nightmare on Elm Street series, the director was keen to break from his scary movie image and create a more hybrid genre film (his subsequent project after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which exploited horror tropes for both laughs and real fear). At the same time, the star wanted to defy assumptions by venturing into a straight horror based on Dracula lore. The conflict of those creative goals accounts for the story's detailed beginning of Max's origins and its generally sluggish start. But when the film hits its stride, it unfolds to its strengths — like its eclectic cast.
Angela Bassett, as the object of Maximillian’s affection, plays police officer Rita Veder, whose relationship with her colleague and romantic lead, detective Justice (Allen Payne), adds a crime-drama edge to the story. Among Black cinema’s most acclaimed performers, she gives a commanding performance with Payne, a familiar face from the era. In the meantime, the lead spends the majority of the film with his comedic partner, forming a hilarious classic comedy pair as Hardison’s Julius Jones becomes Max’s undead lackey. (Watching Julius descend further into his macabre part as his skin decays during the movie is a highlight of how Murphy’s usual bag of tricks elevates the humor and fear, even when employed by other actors).
Gothic Intrigue
When the two leads meet and the stars finally share the screen, the film hits its stride — the suspense builds, the fear escalates, and their sinister attraction becomes the focus. Max’s plan is to remove all Rita has in her life and then intervene. He murders her roommate, drives a wedge between her and her partner, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque prosthetics to masquerade as a clergyman and undermine her beliefs.
As the story unfolds, it becomes increasingly Gothic, featuring metamorphoses and discoveries of heritage. This results in a final section packed with temptation, as mortality and damnation hang in the balance. The movie ends with a teaser hinting at a potential sequel, one that might have materialized had the film performed better. Vampire in Brooklyn earned a moderate financial success and got largely critical reception upon release. As years passed, it gained popularity as a beloved classic, with critics later praising Craven’s direction, the spark between Murphy and Bassett, and its clever mix of frights and fun. The film shows moments of brilliance that could have been more prominent had all participants been aligned on a cohesive approach, rather than producing the tonal hodgepodge audiences received. Still, Vampire in Brooklyn has rightfully earned its spot in the canon of Black horror, an underappreciated but influential entry defined by its daring approach and memorable acting.
