Ryan Coogler's recent work may have revitalized the concept of African American undead, but the origins of this subgenre trace back to the Blaxploitation era. One of the most iconic pioneering films was the seminal 1972 movie Blacula. In that film, William Marshall's character is turned by Dracula and burdened with the insulting name “Blacula.” Originally written as a caricature, the performer elevated the role into something majestic, providing his character an historical origin as Mamuwalde, a proud African prince.
Decades later, Eddie Murphy appeared to draw a cue from his predecessor, deepening his own character's mythology in Wes Craven's interpretation on the Black vampire subgenre: Vampire in Brooklyn. The protagonist 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 proves that tales of African American undead can be funny, terrifying, and thought-provoking simultaneously, securing its position in the canon by juggling all three while respecting the heritage of the category.
Debuted three decades back on Oct. 27, 1995, Vampire in Brooklyn is now available on Tubi, making it an must-see if you need a little comedy with your frights this spooky season.
An Urban Vampire Story
Like Prince Akeem in Coming to America (the actor's classic from 1988), Maximillian is pulled to New York City. But instead of journeying from a fictional kingdom to Queens, he arrives from the mysterious region into Brooklyn, aiming to find and secure the continuation of his vampire lineage with an offspring of his tribe.
The character makes his entrance in New York aboard a ghost ship whose sailors has been inexplicably killed, a homage to Nosferatu. The vessel is found by harbor official Silas Green (John Witherspoon) and his relative Julius Jones (the actor), two of the film's funniest characters. The inspector then observes a black wolf jump from the ship, dart into an alley, and transform into a human — like the iconic routine from the longer Black or White video. Groovy Blaxploitation-style music starts, setting the mood for a movie that expertly mixes horror and humor.
Artistic Goals
Fresh off his final entry in the iconic horror series, the director was keen 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 comedy and real fear). Meanwhile, Murphy aimed to subvert expectations by venturing into a straight horror rooted in Dracula lore. The conflict of those creative goals accounts for the film's exposition-heavy opening of the protagonist's backstory and its generally sluggish start. But once the movie hits its stride, it unfolds to its assets — like its eclectic cast.
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 crime-drama edge to the story. One of African American film's most praised performers, she gives a commanding performance alongside her co-star, a familiar face from the time. In the meantime, the lead spends most of his screen time with his comedic partner, forming a hilarious Abbott-and-Costello-style duo 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 highlight of how the star's comedic style elevates the humor and fear, even when utilized by the cast).
Gothic Intrigue
When the two leads meet and the stars appear together, the movie hits its stride — the suspense builds, the fear escalates, and their darkly seductive chemistry becomes the focus. Max’s plan is to remove everything Rita has in her life and then intervene. He murders her housemate, creates conflict in between her and her partner, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque prosthetics to masquerade as a clergyman and undermine her faith.
As the plot unfolds, it becomes increasingly Gothic, featuring transformations and discoveries of heritage. This leads to a final section packed with temptation, as life and eternal punishment hang in the balance. The movie concludes with a teaser suggesting a potential sequel, one that could have happened had the movie performed better. Vampire in Brooklyn made a moderate financial success and got largely critical reception upon release. As years passed, it found new life as a cult favorite, with critics later applauding Craven’s direction, the spark between the leads, and its clever mix of horror and comedy. The film shows glimpses of genius that might have shone brighter had everyone involved been aligned on a cohesive approach, rather than delivering the tonal hodgepodge viewers saw. Still, Vampire in Brooklyn has deservedly secured its spot in the canon of African American scary movies, an underappreciated but influential entry characterized by its daring approach and memorable acting.
