The director's recent project may have breathed new life into the idea of African American undead, but the roots of this subgenre trace back to the 1970s cultural movement. One of the most iconic pioneering films was the seminal 1972 movie Blacula. In that motion picture, the actor's character is bitten by Dracula and cursed with the demeaning name “Blacula.” Originally written as a stereotype, Marshall elevated the part into something majestic, giving his figure an historical origin as Mamuwalde, a noble royal from Africa.
Decades later, the comedic star seemed to take a cue from Marshall, deepening his own character's mythology in Wes Craven's take on the African American horror niche: Vampire in Brooklyn. The protagonist Maximillian is a descendant of Dracula whose ancestors escaped to Egypt, and later to the Bermuda Triangle, after being hunted to the brink of extinction. Vampire in Brooklyn proves that Black vampire stories can be humorous, frightening, and thought-provoking simultaneously, securing its position in the canon by balancing all three while honoring the subgenre's legacy.
Debuted 30 years ago on Oct. 27, 1995, Vampire in Brooklyn is currently streaming on a popular platform, making it an essential watch if you want a dash of humor with your scares this spooky season.
An Urban Vampire Story
Similar to Prince Akeem in Coming to America (the actor's classic from 1988), Maximillian is drawn to New York City. But rather than traveling from a fictional kingdom to Queens, he arrives from the Bermuda Triangle into Brooklyn, aiming to locate and ensure the continuation of his vampire lineage with an offspring of his clan.
The character makes his entrance in New York aboard a phantom vessel whose sailors has been inexplicably killed, a homage to Nosferatu. The vessel is found by ship inspector Silas Green (John Witherspoon) and his nephew Julius Jones (Kadeem Hardison), two of the most humorous personalities in the movie. Silas then observes a dark creature leap from the ship, dart into an alley, and transform into a man — like Michael Jackson's Panther Dance from the extended Black or White video. Funky Blaxploitation-style music kicks in, establishing the tone for a movie that expertly mixes horror and humor.
Artistic Goals
Fresh off his last installment in the iconic horror series, the director was keen to break from his horror reputation and create a more hybrid genre film (his next film after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which exploited scary conventions for both laughs and genuine scares). At the same time, the star wanted to subvert expectations by venturing into a pure scary movie rooted in Dracula lore. The conflict of those artistic aims explains the story's detailed beginning of Max's origins and its somewhat slow commencement. But when the film hits its stride, it opens up to its assets — like its eclectic cast.
The acclaimed actress, as the object of Maximillian’s affection, plays police officer Rita Veder, whose relationship with her partner and love interest, detective Justice (the actor), brings a procedural element to the narrative. Among African American film's most acclaimed performers, she gives a commanding performance with her co-star, a well-known actor from the time. In the meantime, Murphy spends most of his screen time 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 appearance deteriorates throughout the film is a standout moment of how Murphy’s usual bag of tricks enhances the humor and fear, even when utilized by the cast).
Supernatural Romance
When Max and Rita’s paths intertwine and Murphy and Bassett appear together, the film reaches its peak — the suspense builds, the scares intensify, and their sinister attraction takes center stage. Max’s plan is to take away everything Rita has in her life and then intervene. He kills her housemate, drives a wedge in between her and her partner, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque prosthetics to disguise himself as a preacher and weaken her faith.
As the story progresses, it becomes more darkly romantic, featuring metamorphoses and revelations of origins. This results in a third act filled with seduction, as life and eternal punishment are at stake. The movie concludes with a stinger suggesting a possible follow-up, one that could have happened had the film performed better. Vampire in Brooklyn earned a moderate financial success and received mostly negative reviews upon debut. Over time, it found new life as a beloved classic, with critics later praising Craven’s direction, the spark between Murphy and Bassett, and its sharp blend of horror and comedy. The movie shows glimpses of genius that might have shone brighter had all participants been in agreement on a unified vision, rather than delivering the mixed-genre result viewers saw. Still, Vampire in Brooklyn has deservedly secured its spot in the history of African American scary movies, an underappreciated but impactful film defined by its bold style and memorable acting.
