Ryan Coogler's latest work may have breathed new life into the idea of African American undead, but the origins of this subgenre trace back to the 1970s cultural movement. Among the most iconic pioneering films was the 1972 classic Blacula. In that motion picture, the actor's character is turned by Dracula and burdened with the insulting name “Blacula.” Originally written as a caricature, the performer transformed the part into something majestic, providing his figure an historical origin as Mamuwalde, a proud African prince.
Years afterward, the comedic star appeared to draw a cue from his predecessor, enriching his own character's mythology in the director's interpretation 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 persecuted to the brink of extinction. Vampire in Brooklyn demonstrates that Black vampire stories can be humorous, terrifying, and intellectually stimulating all at once, securing its place in the hall of fame by balancing all three while respecting the heritage of the category.
Debuted 30 years ago on Oct. 27, 1995, Vampire in Brooklyn is now available on a popular platform, making it an essential watch if you want a little comedy with your frights this Halloween.
A Tale of Two Cities
Like Prince Akeem in Coming to America (the actor's 1988 masterpiece), Maximillian is drawn to the Big Apple. But rather than journeying from a fictional kingdom to Queens, he arrives from the Bermuda Triangle into Brooklyn, aiming to locate and ensure the continuation of his undead bloodline with an heir of his tribe.
Maximillian arrives in New York on a phantom vessel whose sailors has been mysteriously slaughtered, a homage to Nosferatu. The ship is discovered by harbor official Silas Green (the comedian) and his relative Julius Jones (the actor), two of the most humorous personalities in the movie. The inspector then observes a black wolf jump from the ship, run into an alley, and transform into a man — reminiscent of Michael Jackson's Panther Dance from the longer Black or White video. Groovy Blaxploitation-style music kicks in, setting the mood for a movie that expertly mixes scares and laughs.
Directorial Ambitions
Fresh off his last installment in the iconic horror series, the director was keen to move beyond his horror reputation and create a more blended comedy (his subsequent project after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which exploited horror tropes for both comedy and genuine scares). At the same time, Murphy aimed to defy assumptions by diving into a straight horror rooted in vampire mythology. The clash of those creative goals explains the story's detailed beginning of the protagonist's backstory and its somewhat slow commencement. But once the film hits its stride, it unfolds to its assets — like its eclectic cast.
The acclaimed actress, as the object of Maximillian’s affection, plays police officer Rita Veder, whose relationship with her colleague and romantic lead, detective Justice (the actor), adds a procedural element to the story. One of African American film's most acclaimed performers, she gives a commanding acting with her co-star, a familiar face from the era. Meanwhile, the lead spends the majority of the film with Kadeem Hardison, forming a uproarious classic comedy pair as Hardison’s Julius Jones becomes the vampire's minion. (Seeing Julius sink deeper and deeper into his ghoulish role as his skin decays throughout the film is a highlight of how Murphy’s usual bag of tricks elevates the humor and fear, even when utilized by the cast).
Gothic Intrigue
When Max and Rita’s paths intertwine and Murphy and Bassett appear together, the movie reaches its peak — the suspense builds, the fear escalates, and their darkly seductive chemistry becomes the focus. The vampire's scheme is to remove all Rita has in her life and then intervene. He murders her housemate, creates conflict between her and her partner, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque make-up effects to masquerade as a preacher and undermine her beliefs.
As the plot unfolds, it becomes increasingly Gothic, featuring metamorphoses and revelations of origins. This results in a third act packed with temptation, as mortality and damnation hang in the balance. The film ends with a stinger suggesting a possible follow-up, one that might have materialized had the movie been more successful. Vampire in Brooklyn earned a moderate financial success and got mostly negative reviews upon release. As years passed, it gained popularity as a beloved classic, with reviewers later praising 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 aligned on a unified vision, rather than delivering the tonal hodgepodge audiences received. Still, Vampire in Brooklyn has rightfully earned its place in the history of Black horror, an underappreciated but impactful film defined by its bold style and memorable acting.
