Ryan Coogler's recent project may have breathed new life into the idea of Black vampires, but the roots of this subgenre trace back to the 1970s cultural movement. Among the most iconic pioneering films was the 1972 classic Blacula. In that film, William Marshall's role is turned by Dracula and cursed with the demeaning name “Blacula.” Initially conceived as a stereotype, the performer transformed the role into something regal, providing his figure an historical origin as Mamuwalde, a proud African prince.
Decades later, the comedic star appeared to draw a cue from his predecessor, enriching his own protagonist's lore in Wes Craven's take on the Black vampire subgenre: Vampire in Brooklyn. Murphy's Maximillian is a heir of Dracula whose forebears 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 funny, terrifying, and intellectually stimulating simultaneously, securing its place in the canon by balancing all three while honoring the subgenre's legacy.
Debuted 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 scares this Halloween.
From Zamunda to Brooklyn
Similar to the royal character in Coming to America (the actor's classic from 1988), Maximillian is drawn to the Big Apple. But rather than traveling from a fictional kingdom to Queens, he emerges from the Bermuda Triangle into Brooklyn, seeking to locate and ensure the survival of his vampire lineage with an offspring of his tribe.
The character makes his entrance in New York aboard a phantom vessel whose sailors has been mysteriously slaughtered, 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 dark creature jump from the ship, run into an alley, and morph into a human — reminiscent of Michael Jackson's Panther Dance from the longer Black or White video. Groovy 1970s-inspired soundtrack kicks in, setting the tone for a film that handily balances horror and humor.
Directorial Ambitions
Fresh off his final entry in the Nightmare on Elm Street series, the director was keen to break from his scary movie image and make a more blended comedy (his next film after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which mined scary conventions for both laughs and genuine scares). At the same time, the star wanted to defy assumptions by venturing into a straight horror based on Dracula lore. The clash of those creative goals accounts for the story's detailed beginning of Max's origins and its generally sluggish start. But when the movie clicks into high gear, it opens up to its strengths — like its diverse ensemble.
The acclaimed actress, as the vampire's love interest, plays detective Rita Veder, whose relationship with her colleague and romantic lead, detective Justice (the actor), brings a procedural element to the story. Among African American film's most acclaimed actresses, she delivers a powerful acting alongside Payne, a familiar face from the era. In the meantime, Murphy spends most of his screen time with his comedic partner, creating a uproarious Abbott-and-Costello-style duo as Hardison’s Julius Jones becomes the vampire's minion. (Watching Julius descend further into his macabre part as his appearance deteriorates during the movie is a standout moment of how Murphy’s usual bag of tricks elevates the comedy and horror, even when employed by the cast).
Gothic Intrigue
When the two leads meet 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. 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 prosthetics to disguise himself as a clergyman and weaken her beliefs.
As the plot progresses, it becomes increasingly Gothic, featuring metamorphoses and revelations of origins. This results in a third act packed with seduction, as life and eternal punishment hang in the balance. The movie ends with a stinger hinting at a potential sequel, one that could have happened had the film been more successful. Vampire in Brooklyn made a modest box office return and got largely critical reception upon debut. As years passed, it found new life as a cult favorite, with critics later praising Craven’s direction, the spark between Murphy and Bassett, and its clever mix of horror and comedy. The movie flashes glimpses of genius that could have been more prominent had all participants been in agreement on a unified vision, rather than delivering the mixed-genre result viewers saw. Still, Vampire in Brooklyn has rightfully earned its place in the history of Black horror, an overlooked but influential entry characterized by its bold style and memorable acting.
