Ryan Coogler's recent project may have breathed new life into the idea of African American undead, but the origins of this cinematic category date back to the Blaxploitation era. Among the most iconic pioneering films was the 1972 classic Blacula. In that motion picture, William Marshall's role is turned by Dracula and burdened with the demeaning name “Blacula.” Originally written as a caricature, Marshall elevated the role into something majestic, providing his figure an historical origin as Mamuwalde, a proud African prince.
Years afterward, Eddie Murphy seemed to take 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 descendant of Dracula whose forebears fled to Egypt, and later to the Bermuda Triangle, after being hunted to the brink of extinction. Vampire in Brooklyn proves that Black vampire stories can be funny, terrifying, and thought-provoking simultaneously, securing its place in the hall of fame by balancing all three while respecting the heritage of the category.
Released 30 years ago on October 27th, 1995, Vampire in Brooklyn is currently streaming on a popular platform, making it an essential watch if you need a dash of humor with your frights this Halloween.
A Tale of Two Cities
Similar to the royal character in Coming to America (Murphy's classic from 1988), Maximillian is drawn to New York City. But rather than journeying from a fictional kingdom to Queens, he emerges from the Bermuda Triangle into Brooklyn, aiming to locate and ensure the continuation of his vampire lineage with an heir of his tribe.
Maximillian arrives in New York on a phantom vessel whose crew has been inexplicably killed, a nod to Nosferatu. The vessel is found by harbor official Silas Green (the comedian) and his relative Julius Jones (Kadeem Hardison), two of the most humorous personalities in the movie. Silas then observes a black wolf jump from the ship, dart into an alley, and morph into a man — like Michael Jackson's Panther Dance from the longer Black or White video. Funky 1970s-inspired soundtrack kicks in, setting the mood for a film that expertly mixes scares and laughs.
Artistic Goals
Recently after his final entry in the iconic horror series, the director was eager to break from his scary movie image and make a more hybrid genre film (his next film after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which exploited scary conventions for both laughs and genuine scares). Meanwhile, 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 Max's origins and its generally sluggish start. But once the film hits its stride, it opens up to its assets — like its eclectic cast.
The acclaimed actress, as the object of Maximillian’s affection, plays detective Rita Veder, whose dynamic with her partner and love interest, detective Justice (Allen Payne), brings a procedural element to the story. One of Black cinema’s most acclaimed actresses, she delivers a commanding performance with Payne, a familiar face from the time. Meanwhile, the lead spends most of his screen time with his comedic partner, forming a hilarious classic comedy pair as the actor's Julius Jones becomes the vampire's minion. (Watching Julius sink deeper and deeper into his macabre part as his appearance deteriorates throughout the film is a highlight of how Murphy’s usual bag of tricks elevates the humor and fear, even when employed by other actors).
Gothic Intrigue
When Max and Rita’s paths intertwine and Murphy and Bassett appear together, the movie reaches its peak — the tension heightens, the scares intensify, and their darkly seductive chemistry becomes the focus. Max’s plan is to take away all Rita has in her life and then intervene. He kills her housemate, creates conflict between her and her love interest, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque prosthetics to masquerade as a clergyman and undermine her beliefs.
As the plot progresses, it becomes increasingly Gothic, including metamorphoses and discoveries of heritage. This results in a third act filled with temptation, as mortality and damnation are at stake. The film concludes with a stinger suggesting a possible follow-up, one that could have happened had the film been more successful. 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 critics later praising Craven’s direction, the electric chemistry Murphy and Bassett, and its sharp blend of horror and comedy. The movie flashes moments of brilliance that might have shone brighter had everyone involved been aligned on a cohesive approach, rather than producing the tonal hodgepodge audiences received. Nevertheless, Vampire in Brooklyn has deservedly secured its place in the canon of Black horror, an underappreciated but influential entry characterized by its bold style and unforgettable performances.
