Ryan Coogler's recent project may have breathed new life into the concept of African American undead, but the origins of this cinematic category date back to the 1970s cultural movement. One of the most memorable pioneering films was the seminal 1972 movie Blacula. In that motion picture, the actor's role is turned by Dracula and burdened with the demeaning name “Blacula.” Originally written as a stereotype, Marshall transformed the role into something majestic, providing his figure an 18th-century backstory as Mamuwalde, a noble royal from Africa.
Years afterward, Eddie Murphy appeared to draw a cue from Marshall, enriching his own character's mythology in Wes Craven's interpretation on the African American horror niche: Vampire in Brooklyn. Murphy's Maximillian is a heir of Dracula whose ancestors fled to Egypt, and later to the Bermuda Triangle, after being persecuted to the edge of annihilation. Vampire in Brooklyn demonstrates that Black vampire stories can be humorous, terrifying, and thought-provoking simultaneously, earning its position 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 currently streaming on a popular platform, making it an must-see if you need a little comedy with your frights this Halloween.
From Zamunda to Brooklyn
Like Prince Akeem in Coming to America (Murphy's 1988 masterpiece), the vampire lead is pulled to the Big Apple. But instead of traveling from Zamunda to Queens, he arrives from the mysterious region into Brooklyn, seeking to locate and ensure the survival of his undead bloodline with an heir of his clan.
Maximillian arrives in New York on a ghost ship whose sailors has been mysteriously slaughtered, a nod to Nosferatu. The ship is discovered by harbor official Silas Green (the comedian) and his nephew Julius Jones (the actor), two of the most humorous personalities in the movie. Silas then observes a black wolf leap from the ship, dart into an alley, and transform into a human — reminiscent of the iconic routine from the extended Black or White video. Funky 1970s-inspired soundtrack starts, establishing the mood for a film that handily balances scares and laughs.
Directorial Ambitions
Fresh off his last installment in the Nightmare on Elm Street series, the director was keen to move beyond his scary movie image and make a more blended comedy (his subsequent project after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which exploited horror tropes for both comedy and genuine scares). Meanwhile, Murphy wanted to subvert expectations by diving into a straight horror rooted in vampire mythology. The clash of those creative goals explains the film's exposition-heavy opening of Max's origins and its generally sluggish start. But once the movie clicks into high gear, it opens up to its assets — like its eclectic cast.
Angela Bassett, as the object of Maximillian’s affection, plays police officer Rita Veder, whose dynamic with her partner and love interest, detective Justice (the actor), adds a procedural element to the story. Among Black cinema’s most acclaimed actresses, Bassett gives a powerful acting alongside Payne, a well-known actor from the time. Meanwhile, the lead spends most of his screen time with Kadeem Hardison, creating a hilarious Abbott-and-Costello-style duo as Hardison’s Julius Jones becomes Max’s undead lackey. (Watching Julius sink deeper and deeper into his macabre part as his skin decays during the movie is a standout moment of how Murphy’s usual bag of tricks elevates the humor and fear, even when utilized by other actors).
Gothic Intrigue
When the two leads meet and Murphy and Bassett appear together, the movie hits its stride — the suspense builds, the fear escalates, and their sinister attraction becomes the focus. Max’s plan is to remove all Rita has in her life and then swoop in. He kills her housemate, creates conflict in between her and her partner, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque prosthetics to disguise himself as a preacher and weaken her beliefs.
As the plot progresses, it becomes more darkly romantic, including metamorphoses and discoveries of heritage. This results in a final section filled with temptation, as life and eternal punishment are at stake. The film ends with a stinger suggesting a possible follow-up, one that could have happened had the movie performed better. Vampire in Brooklyn made a moderate financial success and received largely critical reception upon debut. As years passed, it gained popularity as a beloved classic, with reviewers later praising Craven’s direction, the electric chemistry the leads, and its clever mix of horror and comedy. The movie shows glimpses of genius that might have shone brighter had all participants been in agreement on a cohesive approach, rather than delivering the mixed-genre result audiences received. Nevertheless, Vampire in Brooklyn has deservedly secured its spot in the history of African American scary movies, an underappreciated but impactful entry characterized by its daring approach and unforgettable performances.
