Ryan Coogler's latest project may have breathed new life into the concept of Black vampires, but the roots of this subgenre trace back to the Blaxploitation era. One of the most memorable pioneering films was the seminal 1972 movie Blacula. In that film, William Marshall's role is turned by Dracula and cursed with the demeaning name “Blacula.” Initially conceived as a stereotype, the performer transformed the part into something majestic, giving his figure an historical origin as Mamuwalde, a noble royal from Africa.
Decades later, Eddie Murphy appeared to draw inspiration from Marshall, deepening his own protagonist's lore in Wes Craven's interpretation on the Black vampire subgenre: Vampire in Brooklyn. Murphy's Maximillian is a descendant of Dracula whose ancestors fled to Egypt, and later to the Bermuda Triangle, after being hunted 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 hall of fame by juggling all three while respecting the subgenre's legacy.
Released 30 years ago on Oct. 27, 1995, Vampire in Brooklyn is now available on a popular platform, making it an essential watch if you need a dash of humor with your frights this spooky season.
From Zamunda to Brooklyn
Similar to the royal character in Coming to America (the actor's 1988 masterpiece), the vampire lead is pulled to New York City. But rather than traveling from a fictional kingdom to Queens, he emerges from the Bermuda Triangle into Brooklyn, seeking to locate and ensure the continuation of his undead bloodline with an heir of his tribe.
The character makes his entrance in New York on a ghost ship whose sailors has been inexplicably killed, a homage to Nosferatu. The vessel is found by ship inspector Silas Green (John Witherspoon) and his relative Julius Jones (Kadeem Hardison), two of the film's funniest characters. Silas then witnesses a black wolf leap from the ship, run into an alley, and morph into a human — like the iconic routine from the longer Black or White video. Groovy 1970s-inspired soundtrack starts, establishing the tone for a film that expertly mixes scares and laughs.
Directorial Ambitions
Fresh off his final entry in the Nightmare on Elm Street series, Craven was keen to move beyond his horror reputation and make a more hybrid genre film (his subsequent project after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which mined scary conventions for both laughs and real fear). Meanwhile, Murphy wanted to subvert expectations by diving into a pure scary movie rooted in vampire mythology. The clash of those artistic aims accounts for the film's exposition-heavy opening of Max's origins and its generally sluggish start. But once the film clicks into high gear, it unfolds to its strengths — like its diverse ensemble.
The acclaimed actress, as the vampire's love interest, plays police officer Rita Veder, whose dynamic with her colleague and romantic lead, detective Justice (Allen Payne), adds a procedural element to the story. One of Black cinema’s most acclaimed actresses, Bassett gives a powerful acting alongside her co-star, a well-known actor from the era. Meanwhile, the lead spends the majority of the film with his comedic partner, creating a uproarious Abbott-and-Costello-style duo as the actor's Julius Jones becomes the vampire's minion. (Seeing Julius descend further into his macabre part as his skin decays throughout the film is a highlight of how Murphy’s usual bag of tricks elevates the humor and fear, even when employed by the cast).
Gothic Intrigue
When Max and Rita’s paths intertwine and Murphy and Bassett finally share the screen, the film reaches its peak — the tension heightens, the fear escalates, and their sinister attraction becomes the focus. Max’s plan is to take away all Rita has in her life and then intervene. He kills her roommate, creates conflict between her and her partner, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque make-up effects to disguise himself as a preacher and undermine her beliefs.
As the plot progresses, it becomes increasingly Gothic, featuring transformations and discoveries of heritage. This leads to a third act filled with temptation, as mortality and damnation hang in the balance. The film ends with a stinger suggesting a possible follow-up, one that might have materialized had the film performed better. Vampire in Brooklyn made a moderate financial success and got mostly negative reviews upon release. Over time, it gained popularity as a beloved classic, with critics later applauding Craven’s direction, the electric chemistry Murphy and Bassett, and its clever mix of horror and comedy. The film flashes glimpses of genius that might have shone brighter had everyone involved been in agreement on a cohesive approach, rather than delivering the tonal hodgepodge audiences received. Still, Vampire in Brooklyn has deservedly secured its place in the canon of African American scary movies, an overlooked but influential film defined by its daring approach and memorable acting.
