Ryan Coogler's latest work may have breathed new life into the idea of African American undead, but the roots of this subgenre date back to the 1970s cultural movement. Among the most memorable pioneering films was the 1972 classic Blacula. In that film, the actor's role is turned by Dracula and burdened with the insulting name “Blacula.” Originally written as a stereotype, the performer transformed the role into something regal, providing his figure an 18th-century backstory as Mamuwalde, a noble royal from Africa.
Years afterward, the comedic star appeared to draw inspiration from Marshall, deepening his own character's mythology in Wes Craven's take on the Black vampire subgenre: Vampire in Brooklyn. Murphy's Maximillian is a descendant of Dracula whose forebears escaped to Egypt, and later to the Bermuda Triangle, after being persecuted to the brink of extinction. Vampire in Brooklyn proves that tales of African American undead can be funny, terrifying, and thought-provoking all at once, earning its position in the canon by juggling all three while honoring the heritage of the category.
Released three decades back on October 27th, 1995, Vampire in Brooklyn is currently streaming on a popular platform, making it an essential watch if you want a dash of humor with your scares this Halloween.
A Tale of Two Cities
Similar to the royal character in Coming to America (the actor's 1988 masterpiece), Maximillian is drawn to New York City. But instead of traveling from Zamunda to Queens, he emerges from the Bermuda Triangle into Brooklyn, aiming to find and secure the survival of his vampire lineage with an heir of his tribe.
Maximillian arrives in New York aboard a ghost ship whose crew has been inexplicably killed, a nod to Nosferatu. The vessel is found by ship inspector Silas Green (John Witherspoon) and his relative Julius Jones (the actor), two of the film's funniest characters. The inspector then witnesses a black wolf jump from the ship, dart into an alley, and transform into a man — reminiscent of the iconic routine from the longer Black or White video. Groovy 1970s-inspired soundtrack starts, establishing the mood for a movie that expertly mixes horror and humor.
Artistic Goals
Recently after his final entry in the Nightmare on Elm Street series, Craven was eager to break from his scary movie image and make a more blended comedy (his subsequent project after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which exploited scary conventions for both laughs and real fear). Meanwhile, the star aimed to subvert expectations by venturing into a straight horror rooted in vampire mythology. The conflict of those artistic aims explains the film's exposition-heavy opening of Max's origins and its generally sluggish start. But when the movie hits its stride, it opens up to its strengths — like its eclectic cast.
The acclaimed actress, as the vampire's love interest, plays police officer Rita Veder, whose dynamic with her colleague and romantic lead, detective Justice (Allen Payne), brings a procedural element to the narrative. Among African American film's most praised performers, Bassett gives a commanding performance alongside Payne, a well-known actor from the era. In the meantime, the lead spends the majority of the film with Kadeem Hardison, forming a hilarious classic comedy pair as Hardison’s Julius Jones becomes Max’s undead lackey. (Watching Julius sink deeper and deeper into his macabre part as his skin decays during the movie is a standout moment of how the star's comedic style elevates the humor and fear, even when utilized by other actors).
Gothic Intrigue
When the two leads meet and Murphy and Bassett appear together, the film reaches its peak — the suspense builds, the fear escalates, and their sinister attraction takes center stage. The vampire's scheme is to take away all Rita has in her life and then intervene. He murders her housemate, drives a wedge between her and her partner, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque make-up effects to masquerade as a preacher and weaken her beliefs.
As the story progresses, it becomes increasingly Gothic, including metamorphoses and revelations of origins. This leads to a third act packed with seduction, as life and eternal punishment hang in the balance. The movie concludes with a teaser suggesting a potential sequel, one that might have materialized had the movie performed better. Vampire in Brooklyn earned a moderate financial success and got mostly negative reviews upon debut. Over time, it gained popularity as a beloved classic, with reviewers later applauding Craven’s direction, the electric chemistry the leads, and its clever mix of frights and fun. The film shows glimpses of genius that might have shone brighter had everyone involved been in agreement on a cohesive approach, rather than producing the mixed-genre result viewers saw. Still, Vampire in Brooklyn has rightfully earned its spot in the history of African American scary movies, an underappreciated but impactful entry characterized by its bold style and memorable acting.
