Ryan Coogler's recent work may have breathed new life into the idea of Black vampires, but the roots of this subgenre date back to the Blaxploitation era. One of the most iconic pioneering films was the seminal 1972 movie Blacula. In that motion picture, William Marshall's role is turned by Dracula and cursed with the demeaning name “Blacula.” Initially conceived as a stereotype, Marshall transformed the role into something majestic, giving his figure an 18th-century backstory as Mamuwalde, a noble royal from Africa.
Years afterward, the comedic star seemed to take a cue from his predecessor, enriching his own character's mythology in Wes Craven's take on the African American horror niche: Vampire in Brooklyn. Murphy's Maximillian is a descendant of Dracula whose ancestors escaped to Egypt, and later to the Bermuda Triangle, after being hunted to the edge of annihilation. Vampire in Brooklyn proves that Black vampire stories can be funny, frightening, and intellectually stimulating simultaneously, securing its position in the hall of fame by balancing all three while honoring the subgenre's legacy.
Debuted three decades back on October 27th, 1995, Vampire in Brooklyn is currently streaming on Tubi, making it an must-see if you want a dash of humor with your scares this Halloween.
From Zamunda to Brooklyn
Similar to Prince Akeem in Coming to America (Murphy's 1988 masterpiece), Maximillian is drawn to New York City. But rather than journeying from Zamunda to Queens, he emerges from the mysterious region into Brooklyn, aiming to find and secure the survival of his vampire lineage with an offspring of his tribe.
Maximillian arrives in New York on a phantom vessel whose crew has been mysteriously slaughtered, a homage to Nosferatu. The vessel 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 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 extended Black or White video. Groovy 1970s-inspired soundtrack starts, setting the tone for a movie that handily balances scares and laughs.
Artistic Goals
Recently after his final entry in the Nightmare on Elm Street series, the director 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 mined scary conventions for both laughs and real fear). Meanwhile, Murphy wanted to subvert expectations by diving into a pure scary movie based on Dracula lore. The conflict of those creative goals explains the story's detailed beginning of the protagonist's backstory and its generally sluggish start. But when the movie hits its stride, it unfolds to its strengths — like its eclectic cast.
Angela Bassett, as the vampire's love interest, plays police officer Rita Veder, whose dynamic with her colleague and romantic lead, detective Justice (the actor), adds a procedural element to the story. One of Black cinema’s most praised performers, Bassett delivers a commanding acting with Payne, a well-known actor from the time. Meanwhile, the lead spends the majority of the film with his comedic partner, forming a uproarious Abbott-and-Costello-style duo as Hardison’s Julius Jones becomes Max’s undead lackey. (Watching Julius sink deeper and deeper into his macabre part as his skin decays throughout the film is a highlight of how Murphy’s usual bag of tricks elevates 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 reaches its peak — the tension heightens, the fear escalates, and their darkly seductive chemistry takes center stage. The vampire's scheme is to take away all Rita has in her life and then intervene. He kills her housemate, drives a wedge 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 unfolds, it becomes increasingly Gothic, featuring metamorphoses and revelations of origins. This results in a third act packed with seduction, as life and eternal punishment hang in the balance. The movie concludes with a stinger hinting at a potential sequel, one that might have materialized had the film been more successful. 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 the leads, and its clever mix of horror and comedy. The film shows glimpses of genius that could have been more prominent had everyone involved been aligned on a cohesive approach, rather than delivering the mixed-genre result audiences received. Still, Vampire in Brooklyn has deservedly secured its place in the history of Black horror, an underappreciated but impactful entry defined by its bold style and memorable acting.
