Ryan Coogler's latest project may have revitalized the concept of Black vampires, but the origins of this cinematic category trace back to the Blaxploitation era. One of the most iconic pioneering films was the 1972 classic Blacula. In that film, William Marshall's character is turned by Dracula and cursed with the demeaning name “Blacula.” Initially conceived as a caricature, Marshall elevated the role into something majestic, giving his figure an 18th-century backstory as Mamuwalde, a proud African prince.
Decades later, the comedic star appeared to draw a cue from Marshall, deepening his own character's mythology in Wes Craven's take on the Black vampire subgenre: 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 brink of extinction. Vampire in Brooklyn demonstrates that tales of African American undead can be funny, frightening, and thought-provoking all at once, securing its place in the canon by juggling all three while respecting the subgenre's legacy.
Debuted 30 years ago on Oct. 27, 1995, Vampire in Brooklyn is now available on a popular platform, making it an must-see if you need a dash of humor with your frights this Halloween.
A Tale of Two Cities
Like Prince Akeem in Coming to America (the actor's classic from 1988), the vampire lead is drawn to New York City. But rather than journeying from a fictional kingdom to Queens, he arrives from the Bermuda Triangle into Brooklyn, aiming to find and secure the survival of his vampire lineage with an heir of his clan.
Maximillian arrives in New York on a ghost ship whose crew has been mysteriously slaughtered, a nod to Nosferatu. The ship is discovered by harbor official Silas Green (John Witherspoon) and his nephew Julius Jones (Kadeem Hardison), two of the most humorous personalities in the movie. Silas then observes a black wolf jump from the ship, dart into an alley, and morph into a human — like the iconic routine from the longer Black or White video. Groovy 1970s-inspired soundtrack kicks in, establishing the mood for a movie that handily balances horror and humor.
Artistic Goals
Recently after his final entry in the iconic horror series, Craven was keen to break from his scary movie image and make a more blended comedy (his subsequent project after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which mined scary conventions for both laughs and genuine scares). At the same time, Murphy wanted to subvert expectations by venturing into a straight horror rooted in vampire mythology. The conflict of those artistic aims explains the film's exposition-heavy opening of the protagonist's backstory and its generally sluggish start. But once the film hits its stride, it unfolds to its assets — like its diverse ensemble.
The acclaimed actress, as the vampire's love interest, plays police officer Rita Veder, whose relationship with her colleague and romantic lead, detective Justice (the actor), adds a crime-drama edge to the story. Among African American film's most praised actresses, Bassett delivers a commanding performance with her co-star, a familiar face from the era. Meanwhile, the lead spends most of his screen time with Kadeem Hardison, creating a uproarious 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 during the movie is a highlight of how the star's comedic style enhances the comedy and horror, even when employed by other actors).
Gothic Intrigue
When Max and Rita’s paths intertwine and the stars appear together, the film hits its stride — the tension heightens, the scares intensify, and their darkly seductive chemistry becomes the focus. The vampire's scheme is to remove all Rita has in her life and then swoop in. He murders her roommate, drives a wedge in between her and her love interest, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque make-up effects to masquerade as a clergyman and undermine her faith.
As the story progresses, it becomes increasingly Gothic, including transformations and discoveries of heritage. This results in a third act filled with temptation, as life and eternal punishment are at stake. The film ends with a stinger hinting at a potential sequel, one that might have materialized had the movie performed better. Vampire in Brooklyn made a modest box office return and got largely critical reception upon debut. As years passed, it gained popularity as a cult favorite, with reviewers later applauding Craven’s direction, the spark between the leads, and its sharp blend of frights and fun. The movie flashes glimpses of genius that could have been more prominent had all participants been aligned on a cohesive approach, rather than producing the tonal hodgepodge audiences received. Nevertheless, Vampire in Brooklyn has deservedly secured its place in the canon of Black horror, an overlooked but influential entry characterized by its daring approach and unforgettable performances.
