Ryan Coogler's recent project may have breathed new life into the concept 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 seminal 1972 movie Blacula. In that motion picture, William Marshall's character is bitten by Dracula and burdened with the insulting name “Blacula.” Originally written as a caricature, Marshall transformed the part into something majestic, providing his figure an 18th-century backstory as Mamuwalde, a noble royal from Africa.
Years afterward, the comedic star seemed to take a cue from Marshall, deepening his own protagonist's lore in Wes Craven's take on the African American horror niche: Vampire in Brooklyn. Murphy's Maximillian is a heir of Dracula whose forebears fled to Egypt, and later to the Bermuda Triangle, after being hunted to the edge of annihilation. Vampire in Brooklyn proves that tales of African American undead can be humorous, frightening, and thought-provoking all at once, earning its position in the hall of fame by juggling all three while honoring the subgenre's legacy.
Released 30 years ago on Oct. 27, 1995, Vampire in Brooklyn is currently streaming on a popular platform, making it an must-see if you need a little comedy with your frights this Halloween.
An Urban Vampire Story
Like Prince Akeem in Coming to America (the actor's classic from 1988), Maximillian is pulled to the Big Apple. But rather than journeying from a fictional kingdom to Queens, he arrives from the Bermuda Triangle into Brooklyn, seeking to locate and ensure the continuation of his vampire lineage with an heir of his tribe.
Maximillian arrives in New York aboard a ghost ship whose sailors has been inexplicably killed, a homage to Nosferatu. The vessel is found by ship inspector Silas Green (the comedian) and his relative Julius Jones (Kadeem Hardison), two of the most humorous personalities in the movie. Silas then observes a dark creature leap from the ship, dart into an alley, and transform into a man — reminiscent of Michael Jackson's Panther Dance from the extended Black or White video. Funky Blaxploitation-style music starts, setting the tone for a movie that expertly mixes scares and laughs.
Artistic Goals
Fresh off his last installment in the iconic horror series, the director was eager to move beyond his horror reputation and create a more hybrid genre film (his subsequent project after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which mined scary conventions for both laughs and genuine scares). Meanwhile, Murphy aimed to defy assumptions by diving into a pure scary movie based on Dracula lore. The conflict of those artistic aims accounts for the story's detailed beginning of the protagonist's backstory and its generally sluggish start. But when the film clicks into high gear, it unfolds to its assets — like its diverse ensemble.
Angela Bassett, as the object of Maximillian’s affection, plays police officer Rita Veder, whose dynamic with her partner and love interest, detective Justice (Allen Payne), brings a crime-drama edge to the narrative. One of African American film's most acclaimed actresses, she delivers a powerful performance with her co-star, a familiar face from the time. In the meantime, the lead spends most of his screen time with his comedic partner, creating a hilarious classic comedy pair as Hardison’s Julius Jones becomes Max’s undead lackey. (Watching Julius sink deeper and deeper into his ghoulish role as his appearance deteriorates during the movie is a highlight of how the star's comedic style elevates the comedy and horror, even when employed by the cast).
Gothic Intrigue
When Max and Rita’s paths intertwine and Murphy and Bassett appear together, the film hits its stride — the tension heightens, the scares intensify, and their darkly seductive chemistry takes center stage. Max’s plan is to remove everything Rita has in her life and then swoop in. He kills her roommate, drives a wedge between her and her love interest, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque prosthetics to masquerade as a preacher and undermine her faith.
As the story progresses, it becomes more darkly romantic, featuring metamorphoses and discoveries of heritage. This leads to a third act packed with seduction, as mortality and damnation are at stake. The film ends with a stinger suggesting a potential sequel, one that could have happened had the film performed better. Vampire in Brooklyn made a modest box office return and got mostly negative reviews upon release. Over time, it found new life as a beloved classic, with critics later applauding Craven’s direction, the spark between Murphy and Bassett, and its clever mix of frights and fun. The movie flashes moments of brilliance that might have shone brighter had everyone involved been in agreement on a cohesive approach, rather than producing the tonal hodgepodge audiences received. Nevertheless, Vampire in Brooklyn has deservedly secured its place in the canon of Black horror, an underappreciated but influential film defined by its bold style and memorable acting.
