Ryan Coogler's latest work may have revitalized the concept of African American undead, but the roots of this subgenre trace back to the Blaxploitation era. Among the most memorable pioneering films was the seminal 1972 movie Blacula. In that film, the actor's character is turned by Dracula and burdened with the demeaning name “Blacula.” Initially conceived as a stereotype, Marshall elevated the part into something regal, giving his character an historical origin as Mamuwalde, a noble royal from Africa.
Decades later, Eddie Murphy seemed to take inspiration from Marshall, 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 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, terrifying, and thought-provoking all at once, securing its position in the hall of fame by juggling all three while respecting the heritage of the category.
Released three decades back on October 27th, 1995, Vampire in Brooklyn is currently streaming on a popular platform, making it an must-see if you need a dash of humor with your scares this spooky season.
A Tale of Two Cities
Like the royal character in Coming to America (the actor's classic from 1988), Maximillian is drawn to New York City. But instead of traveling from Zamunda to Queens, he emerges from the mysterious region into Brooklyn, aiming to locate and ensure the survival of his vampire lineage with an offspring of his clan.
The character makes his entrance in New York aboard a phantom vessel whose sailors has been inexplicably killed, a nod to Nosferatu. The vessel is discovered by ship inspector Silas Green (John Witherspoon) and his nephew Julius Jones (the actor), two of the film's funniest characters. The inspector then observes a black wolf leap from the ship, dart into an alley, and transform into a human — like Michael Jackson's Panther Dance from the longer Black or White video. Groovy Blaxploitation-style music starts, setting the tone for a film that expertly mixes horror and humor.
Directorial Ambitions
Recently after his final entry in the iconic horror series, Craven was eager to move beyond his horror reputation and create a more blended comedy (his next film after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which mined horror tropes for both comedy and genuine scares). Meanwhile, Murphy wanted to subvert expectations by diving into a pure scary movie rooted in Dracula lore. The conflict of those creative goals explains the story's detailed beginning of Max's origins and its somewhat slow commencement. But once the movie clicks into high gear, it unfolds to its assets — like its eclectic cast.
The acclaimed actress, as the vampire's love interest, plays detective Rita Veder, whose dynamic with her partner and love interest, detective Justice (Allen Payne), brings a crime-drama edge to the story. One of African American film's most praised actresses, she delivers a commanding acting with Payne, a well-known actor from the time. In the meantime, the lead spends most of his screen time with Kadeem Hardison, forming a hilarious classic comedy pair as Hardison’s Julius Jones becomes Max’s undead lackey. (Watching Julius descend further into his macabre part as his appearance deteriorates throughout the film is a standout moment of how the star's comedic style elevates the comedy and horror, even when employed by the cast).
Gothic Intrigue
When the two leads meet and the stars finally share the screen, the film reaches its peak — the suspense builds, the scares intensify, and their sinister attraction takes center stage. Max’s plan is to remove all Rita has in her life and then intervene. He kills her roommate, creates conflict between her and her love interest, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque make-up effects to disguise himself as a preacher and undermine her beliefs.
As the plot unfolds, it becomes more darkly romantic, including transformations and discoveries of heritage. This results in a third act packed with seduction, as life and eternal punishment are at stake. The movie concludes with a teaser hinting at a potential sequel, one that might have materialized had the film been more successful. Vampire in Brooklyn made a moderate financial success and received largely critical reception upon debut. Over time, it gained popularity as a beloved classic, with reviewers later applauding the filmmaker's work, the electric chemistry Murphy and Bassett, and its clever mix of frights and fun. The film flashes moments of brilliance that might have shone brighter had everyone involved been in agreement on a cohesive approach, rather than producing the mixed-genre result audiences received. Still, Vampire in Brooklyn has rightfully earned its spot in the canon of African American scary movies, an underappreciated but impactful entry characterized by its daring approach and unforgettable performances.
