Ryan Coogler's recent work may have revitalized the concept of African American undead, but the origins of this subgenre trace back to the 1970s cultural movement. One of the most memorable pioneering films was the 1972 classic Blacula. In that film, William Marshall's character is turned by Dracula and cursed with the insulting name “Blacula.” Originally written as a stereotype, the performer elevated the role into something regal, providing his character an 18th-century backstory as Mamuwalde, a proud African prince.
Years afterward, the comedic star appeared to draw inspiration from Marshall, deepening his own character's mythology in the director'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 hunted to the brink of extinction. Vampire in Brooklyn proves that tales of African American undead can be humorous, frightening, and intellectually stimulating all at once, securing its position in the hall of fame by juggling all three while honoring the subgenre's legacy.
Released three decades back on October 27th, 1995, Vampire in Brooklyn is now available on a popular platform, making it an must-see if you need a dash of humor with your frights this spooky season.
An Urban Vampire Story
Like the royal character in Coming to America (the actor's classic from 1988), Maximillian is pulled to the Big Apple. But rather than traveling from a fictional kingdom to Queens, he emerges from the mysterious region into Brooklyn, aiming to locate and ensure the survival of his vampire lineage with an offspring of his tribe.
The character makes his entrance in New York on a phantom vessel whose sailors has been inexplicably killed, a nod to Nosferatu. The vessel is discovered by harbor official Silas Green (the comedian) and his relative Julius Jones (the actor), two of the film's funniest characters. Silas then observes a dark creature leap from the ship, run into an alley, and transform into a man — reminiscent of Michael Jackson's Panther Dance from the longer Black or White video. Groovy 1970s-inspired soundtrack starts, setting the tone for a movie that handily balances horror and humor.
Artistic Goals
Fresh off his final entry in the Nightmare on Elm Street series, the director was eager to break from his scary movie image and create a more blended comedy (his next film after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which exploited horror tropes for both laughs and genuine scares). At the same time, the star aimed to defy assumptions by venturing into a pure scary movie based on vampire mythology. The conflict of those creative goals 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 eclectic cast.
The acclaimed actress, as the vampire's love interest, plays police officer Rita Veder, whose relationship with her colleague and romantic lead, detective Justice (Allen Payne), adds a crime-drama edge to the narrative. Among African American film's most praised performers, she gives a commanding acting with her co-star, a familiar face from the era. Meanwhile, Murphy spends most of his screen time with Kadeem Hardison, forming a uproarious Abbott-and-Costello-style duo as Hardison’s Julius Jones becomes the vampire's minion. (Seeing Julius sink deeper and deeper into his macabre part as his skin decays throughout the film is a standout moment of how Murphy’s usual bag of tricks elevates the comedy and horror, even when utilized by the cast).
Gothic Intrigue
When the two leads meet and the stars appear together, the movie hits its stride — the tension heightens, the scares intensify, and their sinister attraction becomes the focus. Max’s plan is to remove all Rita has in her life and then intervene. He kills her housemate, creates conflict in between her and her love interest, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque make-up effects to disguise himself as a clergyman and weaken her beliefs.
As the story unfolds, it becomes increasingly Gothic, including metamorphoses and revelations of origins. This leads to a third act packed with temptation, as mortality and damnation are at stake. The film ends with a stinger hinting at 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. As years passed, it found new life as a cult favorite, with reviewers later praising Craven’s direction, the spark between Murphy and Bassett, and its clever mix of frights and fun. The movie flashes glimpses of genius that could have been more prominent had all participants been aligned on a unified vision, rather than producing the tonal hodgepodge viewers saw. Still, Vampire in Brooklyn has rightfully earned its place in the history of Black horror, an overlooked but impactful film characterized by its bold style and memorable acting.
