Ryan Coogler's latest work may have revitalized the idea of African American undead, but the roots of this subgenre trace back to the 1970s cultural movement. One of the most iconic early examples was the seminal 1972 movie Blacula. In that film, William Marshall's role is bitten by Dracula and burdened with the insulting name “Blacula.” Initially conceived as a stereotype, the performer elevated the part into something regal, giving his character an 18th-century backstory as Mamuwalde, a noble royal from Africa.
Years afterward, Eddie Murphy appeared to draw inspiration from his predecessor, enriching his own protagonist's lore in Wes Craven's interpretation on the Black vampire subgenre: Vampire in Brooklyn. Murphy's Maximillian is a heir of Dracula whose ancestors escaped to Egypt, and later to the Bermuda Triangle, after being persecuted to the edge of annihilation. Vampire in Brooklyn proves that tales of African American undead can be humorous, terrifying, and thought-provoking simultaneously, earning its place in the canon by juggling all three while honoring the heritage of the category.
Debuted 30 years ago on Oct. 27, 1995, Vampire in Brooklyn is now available on a popular platform, making it an essential watch if you need a dash of humor with your frights this spooky season.
A Tale of Two Cities
Like Prince Akeem in Coming to America (Murphy's classic from 1988), Maximillian is pulled to New York City. But rather than traveling from Zamunda to Queens, he emerges from the mysterious region into Brooklyn, seeking to find and secure the continuation of his vampire lineage with an heir of his tribe.
The character makes his entrance in New York on a ghost ship whose crew has been mysteriously slaughtered, a homage to Nosferatu. The vessel is found by harbor official Silas Green (the comedian) and his relative Julius Jones (the actor), two of the most humorous personalities in the movie. The inspector then observes a black wolf jump from the ship, run into an alley, and morph into a human — like Michael Jackson's Panther Dance from the longer Black or White video. Funky 1970s-inspired soundtrack starts, establishing the mood for a film that handily balances horror and humor.
Artistic Goals
Recently after his final entry in the iconic horror series, Craven was eager to break from his horror reputation and make a more hybrid genre film (his next film after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which mined scary conventions for both laughs and genuine scares). Meanwhile, Murphy aimed to subvert expectations by diving into a pure scary movie based on Dracula lore. The conflict of those artistic aims accounts for the film's exposition-heavy opening of the protagonist's backstory and its somewhat slow commencement. But once the movie hits its stride, it unfolds to its assets — like its diverse ensemble.
The acclaimed actress, as the object of Maximillian’s affection, plays police officer Rita Veder, whose relationship with her colleague and romantic lead, detective Justice (Allen Payne), brings a crime-drama edge to the story. Among African American film's most acclaimed performers, Bassett gives a commanding performance with Payne, a well-known actor from the time. In the meantime, Murphy spends the majority of the film with his comedic partner, forming a hilarious Abbott-and-Costello-style duo as the actor's Julius Jones becomes Max’s undead lackey. (Watching Julius descend further into his ghoulish role as his appearance deteriorates throughout the film is a standout moment of how the star's comedic style enhances the comedy and horror, even when employed by the cast).
Dark Seduction
When Max and Rita’s paths intertwine and Murphy and Bassett finally share the screen, the movie hits its stride — the tension heightens, the scares intensify, and their sinister attraction takes center stage. Max’s plan is to take away all Rita has in her life and then intervene. He murders her roommate, drives a wedge between her and her love interest, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque make-up effects to disguise himself as a preacher and undermine her faith.
As the story progresses, it becomes increasingly Gothic, including metamorphoses and discoveries of heritage. This results in a third act filled with seduction, as mortality and damnation are at stake. 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 modest box office return and received mostly negative reviews upon debut. As years passed, it found new life as a cult favorite, with reviewers later applauding Craven’s direction, the spark between Murphy and Bassett, and its clever mix of horror and comedy. The film flashes moments of brilliance that could have been more prominent had all participants been in agreement on a cohesive approach, rather than delivering the tonal hodgepodge viewers saw. Still, Vampire in Brooklyn has rightfully earned its place in the history of African American scary movies, an overlooked but influential entry defined by its bold style and unforgettable performances.
