Ryan Coogler's recent project may have breathed new life into the concept of African American undead, but the roots of this cinematic category trace back to the 1970s cultural movement. One of the most iconic pioneering films was the 1972 classic Blacula. In that film, the actor's role is bitten by Dracula and burdened with the demeaning name “Blacula.” Initially conceived as a caricature, the performer transformed the role into something majestic, giving his figure an historical origin as Mamuwalde, a proud African prince.
Decades later, the comedic star appeared to draw a cue from Marshall, deepening his own character's mythology in Wes Craven's take on the African American horror niche: Vampire in Brooklyn. The protagonist Maximillian is a descendant of Dracula whose ancestors escaped to Egypt, and later to the Bermuda Triangle, after being hunted to the edge of annihilation. Vampire in Brooklyn proves that Black vampire stories can be funny, frightening, and intellectually stimulating all at once, securing its position in the hall of fame by balancing all three while honoring the heritage of the category.
Released 30 years ago on October 27th, 1995, Vampire in Brooklyn is now available on a popular platform, making it an must-see if you need a little comedy with your scares this Halloween.
From Zamunda to Brooklyn
Like the royal character in Coming to America (Murphy's 1988 masterpiece), Maximillian is pulled to New York City. But instead of traveling from a fictional kingdom to Queens, he arrives from the Bermuda Triangle into Brooklyn, seeking to find and secure the continuation of his undead bloodline with an heir of his tribe.
Maximillian arrives in New York on a phantom vessel whose sailors has been mysteriously slaughtered, a homage to Nosferatu. The vessel is found by harbor official Silas Green (John Witherspoon) and his nephew Julius Jones (Kadeem Hardison), two of the film's funniest characters. Silas then observes a black wolf leap from the ship, dart into an alley, and transform into a human — reminiscent of Michael Jackson's Panther Dance from the longer Black or White video. Funky Blaxploitation-style music starts, establishing the mood for a movie that expertly mixes horror and humor.
Directorial Ambitions
Recently after his last installment in the Nightmare on Elm Street series, Craven was keen to move beyond his horror reputation and make a more blended comedy (his subsequent project after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which mined scary conventions for both comedy and genuine scares). At the same time, Murphy wanted to subvert expectations by diving into a straight horror rooted in vampire mythology. The clash of those artistic aims accounts for the story's detailed beginning of the protagonist's backstory and its somewhat slow commencement. But once the film hits its stride, it opens up to its strengths — like its diverse ensemble.
The acclaimed actress, as the object of Maximillian’s affection, plays police officer Rita Veder, whose relationship with her partner and love interest, detective Justice (Allen Payne), brings a crime-drama edge to the narrative. Among African American film's most praised performers, Bassett gives a commanding acting alongside her co-star, a well-known actor from the time. In the meantime, Murphy spends the majority of the film with his comedic partner, forming a uproarious Abbott-and-Costello-style duo as the actor's Julius Jones becomes Max’s undead lackey. (Watching Julius descend further into his macabre part as his skin decays throughout the film is a standout moment of how the star's comedic style elevates the comedy and horror, even when utilized by the cast).
Gothic Intrigue
When Max and Rita’s paths intertwine and the stars finally share the screen, the movie hits its stride — the suspense builds, the scares intensify, and their darkly seductive chemistry becomes the focus. Max’s plan is to take away everything Rita has in her life and then swoop in. He kills her housemate, drives a wedge between her and her partner, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque prosthetics to disguise himself as a clergyman and undermine her beliefs.
As the plot unfolds, it becomes more darkly romantic, including metamorphoses and discoveries of heritage. This results in a third act filled with seduction, as life and eternal punishment are at stake. The film concludes with a stinger suggesting a potential sequel, one that might have materialized had the film been more successful. Vampire in Brooklyn made a modest box office return and received largely critical reception upon release. As years passed, it found new life as a beloved classic, with critics later applauding the filmmaker's work, the electric chemistry the leads, and its clever mix of horror and comedy. The film flashes glimpses of genius that could have been more prominent had everyone involved been in agreement on a unified vision, rather than delivering the mixed-genre result audiences received. Nevertheless, Vampire in Brooklyn has rightfully earned its place in the canon of Black horror, an underappreciated but influential film defined by its bold style and unforgettable performances.
