Ryan Coogler's recent project may have revitalized 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 early examples was the 1972 classic Blacula. In that film, the actor's role is bitten by Dracula and cursed with the insulting name “Blacula.” Initially conceived as a stereotype, the performer transformed the part into something regal, providing his character an 18th-century backstory as Mamuwalde, a noble royal from Africa.
Decades later, Eddie Murphy seemed to take inspiration from Marshall, 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 ancestors fled to Egypt, and later to the Bermuda Triangle, after being hunted to the edge of annihilation. Vampire in Brooklyn demonstrates that tales of African American undead can be humorous, frightening, and thought-provoking all at once, earning its position in the hall of fame by juggling all three while respecting the heritage of the category.
Released three decades back on Oct. 27, 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 spooky season.
A Tale of Two Cities
Like Prince Akeem in Coming to America (the actor's classic from 1988), the vampire lead is drawn to the Big Apple. But rather than journeying from a fictional kingdom to Queens, he emerges from the Bermuda Triangle into Brooklyn, aiming to locate and ensure the survival of his undead bloodline with an offspring of his tribe.
The character makes his entrance in New York on a phantom vessel whose crew has been inexplicably killed, a nod to Nosferatu. The vessel is discovered by ship inspector Silas Green (the comedian) and his nephew Julius Jones (Kadeem Hardison), two of the film's funniest characters. Silas then witnesses a dark creature leap from the ship, dart into an alley, and transform into a man — like the iconic routine from the extended Black or White video. Groovy Blaxploitation-style music starts, establishing the mood for a film that expertly mixes horror and humor.
Artistic Goals
Recently after his final entry in the Nightmare on Elm Street series, Craven was eager to break from his scary movie image and create a more blended comedy (his subsequent project after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which exploited horror tropes for both laughs and genuine scares). At the same time, Murphy wanted to subvert expectations by diving into a pure scary movie based on vampire mythology. The clash of those artistic aims explains the story's detailed beginning of Max's origins and its somewhat slow commencement. But when the film clicks into high gear, it opens up to its strengths — like its diverse ensemble.
Angela Bassett, as the object of Maximillian’s affection, plays detective Rita Veder, whose dynamic with her partner and love interest, detective Justice (Allen Payne), adds a procedural element to the story. One of African American film's most praised actresses, Bassett gives a powerful acting with Payne, a familiar face from the time. Meanwhile, the lead 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 skin decays throughout the film is a highlight of how the star's comedic style elevates the humor and fear, even when employed by the cast).
Dark Seduction
When Max and Rita’s paths intertwine and Murphy and Bassett finally share the screen, the movie hits its stride — the tension heightens, the fear escalates, and their darkly seductive chemistry takes center stage. Max’s plan is to take away all Rita has in her life and then intervene. He kills her roommate, drives a wedge 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 plot unfolds, it becomes more darkly romantic, including metamorphoses and revelations of origins. This leads to a third act packed with seduction, as mortality and damnation are at stake. The film ends with a stinger hinting at a possible follow-up, one that could have happened had the film been more successful. Vampire in Brooklyn earned a moderate financial success and received mostly negative reviews upon release. As years passed, it found new life as a beloved classic, with critics later applauding Craven’s direction, the spark between Murphy and Bassett, and its clever mix of frights and fun. The film flashes glimpses of genius that might have shone brighter had everyone involved 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 canon of African American scary movies, an overlooked but influential entry defined by its daring approach and memorable acting.
