Ryan Coogler's recent work may have breathed new life into the idea of African American undead, but the origins of this subgenre date back to the 1970s cultural movement. Among 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 stereotype, Marshall elevated the part into something majestic, providing his character an 18th-century backstory as Mamuwalde, a proud African prince.
Decades later, the comedic star appeared to draw a cue from his predecessor, deepening 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 fled to Egypt, and later to the Bermuda Triangle, after being hunted to the edge of annihilation. Vampire in Brooklyn demonstrates that Black vampire stories can be funny, frightening, and thought-provoking simultaneously, earning its position in the canon by balancing all three while honoring the heritage of the category.
Debuted three decades back on Oct. 27, 1995, Vampire in Brooklyn is currently streaming on a popular platform, making it an essential watch if you want a dash of humor with your scares this spooky season.
From Zamunda to Brooklyn
Similar to Prince Akeem in Coming to America (Murphy's classic from 1988), Maximillian is drawn to the Big Apple. But instead of traveling from Zamunda to Queens, he arrives from the mysterious region into Brooklyn, aiming to find and secure the survival of his vampire lineage with an heir of his tribe.
Maximillian arrives in New York aboard a phantom vessel whose crew has been mysteriously slaughtered, a homage to Nosferatu. The vessel is found by ship inspector Silas Green (John Witherspoon) and his relative Julius Jones (the actor), two of the most humorous personalities in the movie. Silas then witnesses a dark creature leap from the ship, run into an alley, and morph into a human — like the iconic routine from the extended Black or White video. Funky 1970s-inspired soundtrack starts, setting the tone for a movie that handily balances horror and humor.
Directorial Ambitions
Recently after his last installment in the iconic horror series, the director was eager to break from his scary movie image and create a more hybrid genre film (his next film after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which mined horror tropes for both laughs and real fear). Meanwhile, the star wanted to subvert expectations by diving into a straight horror rooted in Dracula lore. The clash of those artistic aims explains the film's exposition-heavy opening of Max's origins and its somewhat slow commencement. But once the movie hits its stride, it unfolds to its strengths — like its eclectic cast.
The acclaimed actress, as the vampire's love interest, plays police officer Rita Veder, whose dynamic with her colleague and romantic lead, detective Justice (the actor), adds a crime-drama edge to the narrative. One of African American film's most acclaimed actresses, she delivers a commanding performance alongside Payne, a well-known actor from the era. Meanwhile, the lead spends the majority of the film with his comedic partner, creating a hilarious Abbott-and-Costello-style duo as the actor's Julius Jones becomes the vampire's minion. (Watching Julius descend further into his macabre part as his skin decays throughout the film is a highlight of how Murphy’s usual bag of tricks enhances the comedy and horror, even when utilized by the cast).
Gothic Intrigue
When the two leads meet and Murphy and Bassett finally share the screen, the film reaches its peak — 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 between her and her partner, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque make-up effects to disguise himself as a preacher and weaken her beliefs.
As the plot unfolds, it becomes increasingly Gothic, featuring transformations and discoveries of heritage. This leads to a final section packed with seduction, as life and eternal punishment are at stake. The film concludes with a teaser hinting at a possible follow-up, one that could have happened had the film performed better. Vampire in Brooklyn earned a modest box office return and got largely critical reception upon release. As years passed, it gained popularity as a cult favorite, with reviewers later praising Craven’s direction, the spark between the leads, and its clever mix of frights and fun. The movie shows moments of brilliance that might have shone brighter had all participants been aligned on a unified vision, rather than delivering the tonal hodgepodge audiences received. Nevertheless, Vampire in Brooklyn has rightfully earned its spot in the canon of African American scary movies, an underappreciated but impactful entry characterized by its bold style and unforgettable performances.
