Ryan Coogler's recent project may have revitalized the concept of African American undead, but the origins of this subgenre trace back to the 1970s cultural movement. One of the most iconic early examples was the seminal 1972 movie Blacula. In that film, the actor's role is turned by Dracula and cursed with the demeaning name “Blacula.” Initially conceived as a stereotype, Marshall transformed the part into something regal, providing his character an historical origin as Mamuwalde, a noble royal from Africa.
Years afterward, Eddie Murphy appeared to draw inspiration from his predecessor, enriching his own character's mythology in Wes Craven's take on the Black vampire subgenre: Vampire in Brooklyn. Murphy's Maximillian is a heir of Dracula whose forebears fled to Egypt, and later to the Bermuda Triangle, after being hunted to the edge of annihilation. Vampire in Brooklyn demonstrates that tales of African American undead can be funny, terrifying, and thought-provoking all at once, securing its place in the hall of fame by balancing all three while honoring the subgenre's legacy.
Debuted three decades back on Oct. 27, 1995, Vampire in Brooklyn is currently streaming on Tubi, making it an essential watch if you want a dash of humor with your scares this spooky season.
From Zamunda to Brooklyn
Similar to Prince Akeem in Coming to America (the actor's classic from 1988), Maximillian is drawn to New York City. But instead of journeying 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.
Maximillian arrives in New York on a phantom vessel whose crew 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 film's funniest characters. Silas then witnesses a black wolf leap from the ship, dart into an alley, and transform into a human — like Michael Jackson's Panther Dance from the extended Black or White video. Groovy 1970s-inspired soundtrack starts, setting the tone for a film that handily balances scares and laughs.
Artistic Goals
Fresh off his last installment in the Nightmare on Elm Street series, Craven was eager to move beyond his horror reputation 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 vampire mythology. The clash of those creative goals explains the story's detailed beginning of Max's origins and its somewhat slow commencement. 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 (Allen Payne), brings a crime-drama edge to the story. Among Black cinema’s most praised performers, she delivers a commanding performance alongside Payne, a well-known actor from the era. In the meantime, Murphy spends the majority of the film with his comedic partner, forming a hilarious classic comedy pair as the actor's Julius Jones becomes Max’s undead lackey. (Seeing Julius sink deeper and deeper into his ghoulish role as his skin decays throughout the film is a standout moment of how the star's comedic style enhances the comedy and horror, even when employed by the cast).
Dark Seduction
When the two leads meet and Murphy and Bassett appear together, the movie reaches its peak — the suspense builds, the fear escalates, and their sinister attraction takes center stage. The vampire's scheme is to remove all Rita has in her life and then intervene. He murders her housemate, drives a wedge in between her and her partner, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque prosthetics to disguise himself as a clergyman and weaken her faith.
As the plot progresses, it becomes more darkly romantic, including transformations and revelations of origins. This leads to a third act filled with seduction, as life and eternal punishment hang in the balance. The film concludes with a stinger suggesting a possible follow-up, one that might have materialized had the film been more successful. Vampire in Brooklyn made a modest box office return and received 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 frights and fun. The film shows moments of brilliance that could have been more prominent had everyone involved been aligned on a cohesive approach, rather than delivering the tonal hodgepodge viewers saw. Nevertheless, Vampire in Brooklyn has deservedly secured its place in the canon of Black horror, an underappreciated but influential entry defined by its bold style and unforgettable performances.
