Ryan Coogler's latest project may have breathed new life into the concept of African American undead, but the origins of this cinematic category date back to the Blaxploitation era. One of the most memorable early examples was the seminal 1972 movie Blacula. In that film, William Marshall's role is turned by Dracula and cursed with the insulting name “Blacula.” Initially conceived as a stereotype, the performer elevated the role into something majestic, providing his figure an historical origin as Mamuwalde, a noble royal from Africa.
Decades later, the comedic star appeared to draw a cue from Marshall, deepening his own protagonist's lore in the director's take on the African American horror niche: Vampire in Brooklyn. The protagonist Maximillian is a descendant of Dracula whose ancestors fled to Egypt, and later to the Bermuda Triangle, after being persecuted to the brink of extinction. Vampire in Brooklyn proves that tales of African American undead can be funny, terrifying, and intellectually stimulating all at once, securing its place in the canon by balancing all three while respecting the heritage of the category.
Debuted 30 years ago on October 27th, 1995, Vampire in Brooklyn is now available on a popular platform, making it an must-see if you need a little comedy with your scares this Halloween.
An Urban Vampire Story
Like the royal character in Coming to America (the actor's classic from 1988), the vampire lead is pulled to the Big Apple. But rather than traveling from a fictional kingdom to Queens, he emerges from the Bermuda Triangle into Brooklyn, aiming to find and secure the continuation of his undead bloodline with an heir of his tribe.
Maximillian arrives in New York aboard a phantom vessel whose sailors has been mysteriously slaughtered, a homage to Nosferatu. The ship is found by harbor official Silas Green (the comedian) and his relative Julius Jones (the actor), two of the most humorous personalities in the movie. Silas then observes a dark creature leap from the ship, dart into an alley, and transform into a man — like the iconic routine from the longer Black or White video. Groovy Blaxploitation-style music kicks in, setting the tone for a film that handily balances horror and humor.
Artistic Goals
Fresh off his final entry in the iconic horror series, the director was eager to break from his scary movie image and make a more blended comedy (his next film after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which mined scary conventions for both comedy and real fear). At the same time, Murphy wanted to defy assumptions by diving into a straight horror based on vampire mythology. The conflict of those artistic aims explains the story's detailed beginning of the protagonist's backstory and its generally sluggish start. But when the film clicks into high gear, it unfolds to its strengths — like its eclectic cast.
Angela Bassett, as the vampire's love interest, plays police officer Rita Veder, whose relationship with her colleague and romantic lead, detective Justice (the actor), brings a crime-drama edge to the narrative. One of African American film's most acclaimed actresses, she gives a commanding performance alongside Payne, a familiar face from the time. In the meantime, the lead spends the majority of the film with Kadeem Hardison, forming a uproarious Abbott-and-Costello-style duo as Hardison’s Julius Jones becomes Max’s undead lackey. (Watching Julius descend further into his ghoulish role as his appearance deteriorates throughout the film is a highlight of how Murphy’s usual bag of tricks enhances the humor and fear, even when utilized by the cast).
Supernatural Romance
When Max and Rita’s paths intertwine and Murphy and Bassett appear together, the film hits its stride — the suspense builds, the fear escalates, and their darkly seductive chemistry takes center stage. The vampire's scheme is to remove everything 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 weaken her faith.
As the plot progresses, it becomes increasingly Gothic, including transformations and discoveries of heritage. This results in a final section packed with seduction, as mortality and damnation hang in the balance. The movie ends with a stinger hinting at a possible follow-up, one that might have materialized had the movie performed better. Vampire in Brooklyn made a moderate financial success and received mostly negative reviews upon release. As years passed, it gained popularity as a cult favorite, with critics later praising Craven’s direction, the spark between Murphy and Bassett, and its sharp blend of frights and fun. The film shows moments of brilliance that could have been more prominent had all participants 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 history of African American scary movies, an underappreciated but impactful film characterized by its bold style and unforgettable performances.
