Ryan Coogler's latest work may have breathed new life into the idea of Black vampires, but the origins of this cinematic category trace back to the Blaxploitation era. Among the most iconic pioneering films was the 1972 classic Blacula. In that film, the actor's character is turned by Dracula and burdened with the insulting name “Blacula.” Initially conceived as a caricature, the performer elevated the part into something majestic, providing his figure an 18th-century backstory as Mamuwalde, a proud African prince.
Years afterward, Eddie Murphy appeared to draw a cue from Marshall, enriching his own protagonist's lore in Wes Craven's interpretation on the Black vampire subgenre: Vampire in Brooklyn. The protagonist Maximillian is a descendant of Dracula whose ancestors escaped 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 humorous, frightening, and intellectually stimulating all at once, earning its place 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 currently streaming on Tubi, making it an must-see if you want a little comedy with your scares this Halloween.
From Zamunda to Brooklyn
Like the royal character in Coming to America (Murphy's classic from 1988), the vampire lead is pulled to New York City. But rather than traveling from Zamunda to Queens, he emerges from the Bermuda Triangle into Brooklyn, aiming to locate and ensure the survival of his undead bloodline with an offspring of his clan.
The character makes his entrance in New York on a ghost ship whose crew has been inexplicably killed, 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. Silas then witnesses a black wolf leap from the ship, dart into an alley, and morph into a human — like the iconic routine from the extended Black or White video. Groovy Blaxploitation-style music starts, setting the tone for a film that handily balances horror and humor.
Artistic Goals
Fresh off his last installment in the iconic horror series, Craven was eager 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 laughs and genuine scares). At the same time, Murphy aimed to subvert expectations by diving into a straight horror rooted in Dracula lore. The conflict of those artistic aims accounts for the film's exposition-heavy opening of the protagonist's backstory and its somewhat slow commencement. But when the movie 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 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 performers, Bassett delivers a powerful performance with her co-star, a well-known actor from the era. In the meantime, Murphy spends most of his screen time with Kadeem Hardison, forming a uproarious Abbott-and-Costello-style duo as the actor's Julius Jones becomes Max’s undead lackey. (Seeing Julius descend further into his ghoulish role as his skin decays during the movie is a highlight of how the star's comedic style enhances the comedy and horror, even when utilized by the cast).
Gothic Intrigue
When Max and Rita’s paths intertwine and the stars finally share the screen, the movie reaches its peak — the tension heightens, the scares intensify, and their sinister attraction becomes the focus. Max’s plan is to take away 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 make-up effects to disguise himself as a clergyman and undermine her beliefs.
As the plot progresses, it becomes increasingly Gothic, including metamorphoses and revelations of origins. This leads to a final section filled with seduction, as life and eternal punishment hang in the balance. The movie ends with a stinger hinting at a possible follow-up, one that could have happened had the movie performed better. Vampire in Brooklyn earned a moderate financial success and got largely critical reception upon debut. As years passed, it gained popularity as a cult favorite, with reviewers later praising Craven’s direction, the spark between the leads, and its clever mix of horror and comedy. The film flashes glimpses of genius that could have been more prominent had everyone involved been in agreement on a unified vision, rather than delivering the mixed-genre result audiences received. Nevertheless, Vampire in Brooklyn has deservedly secured its spot in the canon of Black horror, an underappreciated but influential entry characterized by its daring approach and unforgettable performances.
