Ryan Coogler's recent project may have breathed new life into the idea of African American undead, but the roots of this cinematic category date back to the 1970s cultural movement. One of the most iconic pioneering films was the 1972 classic Blacula. In that motion picture, William Marshall's role is turned by Dracula and cursed with the demeaning name “Blacula.” Originally written as a stereotype, Marshall transformed the part into something majestic, providing his character an 18th-century backstory as Mamuwalde, a proud African prince.
Years afterward, Eddie Murphy appeared to draw inspiration from Marshall, deepening his own protagonist's lore in Wes Craven's take on the African American horror niche: Vampire in Brooklyn. Murphy's Maximillian is a descendant of Dracula whose forebears 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 funny, frightening, and thought-provoking simultaneously, securing its position in the canon by balancing all three while respecting the subgenre's legacy.
Debuted 30 years ago on October 27th, 1995, Vampire in Brooklyn is currently streaming on a popular platform, making it an must-see if you want a little comedy with your frights this spooky season.
From Zamunda to Brooklyn
Like the royal character in Coming to America (the actor's classic from 1988), the vampire lead is drawn to the Big Apple. But rather than journeying from Zamunda to Queens, he arrives from the Bermuda Triangle into Brooklyn, seeking to find and secure the survival of his undead bloodline with an offspring of his clan.
Maximillian arrives in New York aboard a phantom vessel whose sailors has been mysteriously slaughtered, a homage to Nosferatu. The ship is discovered by ship inspector Silas Green (John Witherspoon) and his nephew Julius Jones (Kadeem Hardison), two of the film's funniest characters. Silas then witnesses a black wolf jump from the ship, run into an alley, and morph into a man — like Michael Jackson's Panther Dance from the longer Black or White video. Groovy Blaxploitation-style music starts, establishing the mood for a film that expertly mixes horror and humor.
Artistic Goals
Fresh off his last installment in the iconic horror series, Craven was eager to move beyond his horror reputation and make a more blended comedy (his subsequent project after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which mined horror tropes for both laughs and real fear). At the same time, the star aimed to defy assumptions by diving into a pure scary movie rooted in vampire mythology. The clash of those artistic aims explains the film's exposition-heavy opening of Max's origins and its generally sluggish start. But when the film hits its stride, it opens up to its strengths — like its eclectic cast.
Angela Bassett, as the object of Maximillian’s affection, plays police officer Rita Veder, whose relationship with her partner and love interest, detective Justice (the actor), adds a crime-drama edge to the story. One of Black cinema’s most praised actresses, Bassett gives a powerful acting alongside Payne, a familiar face from the time. Meanwhile, Murphy spends the majority of the film with Kadeem Hardison, forming a uproarious Abbott-and-Costello-style duo as the actor's Julius Jones becomes Max’s undead lackey. (Watching Julius sink deeper and deeper into his ghoulish role as his appearance deteriorates throughout the film is a highlight of how the star's comedic style elevates the humor and fear, even when employed by the cast).
Gothic Intrigue
When the two leads meet and the stars finally share the screen, the film hits its stride — the suspense builds, the fear escalates, and their darkly seductive chemistry takes center stage. Max’s plan is to remove all Rita has in her life and then swoop in. He murders her housemate, creates conflict in between her and her partner, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque prosthetics to disguise himself as a clergyman and undermine her faith.
As the story unfolds, it becomes more darkly romantic, including metamorphoses and discoveries of heritage. This results in a third act filled with seduction, as life and eternal punishment hang in the balance. The film ends with a teaser hinting at a potential sequel, one that might have materialized had the movie been more successful. Vampire in Brooklyn earned a moderate financial success and got largely critical reception upon debut. Over time, it found new life as a beloved classic, with reviewers later applauding Craven’s direction, the spark between Murphy and Bassett, and its clever mix of horror and comedy. The movie shows moments of brilliance that might have shone brighter had all participants been aligned on a cohesive approach, rather than producing the mixed-genre result audiences received. Nevertheless, Vampire in Brooklyn has rightfully earned its place in the canon of Black horror, an overlooked but influential entry defined by its daring approach and memorable acting.
