Ryan Coogler's latest project may have breathed new life into the concept of African American undead, but the origins of this subgenre date back to the 1970s cultural movement. One of the most iconic pioneering films was the seminal 1972 movie Blacula. In that film, the actor's role is turned by Dracula and cursed with the insulting name “Blacula.” Originally written as a stereotype, the performer transformed the role into something regal, giving his character an historical origin as Mamuwalde, a proud African prince.
Decades later, the comedic star appeared to draw inspiration from Marshall, enriching his own character's mythology in the director's interpretation on the Black vampire subgenre: Vampire in Brooklyn. Murphy's Maximillian is a heir of Dracula whose ancestors escaped to Egypt, and later to the Bermuda Triangle, after being persecuted to the edge of annihilation. Vampire in Brooklyn proves that tales of African American undead can be humorous, frightening, and thought-provoking simultaneously, earning its place in the canon by juggling all three while honoring the subgenre's legacy.
Debuted three decades back on Oct. 27, 1995, Vampire in Brooklyn is currently streaming on a popular platform, making it an essential watch if you need a little comedy with your frights this spooky season.
An Urban Vampire Story
Similar to the royal character in Coming to America (Murphy's 1988 masterpiece), the vampire lead is drawn to New York City. But instead of traveling from Zamunda to Queens, he arrives from the mysterious region into Brooklyn, seeking to locate and ensure the continuation of his vampire lineage with an heir of his tribe.
Maximillian arrives in New York on a phantom vessel whose crew has been inexplicably killed, a homage to Nosferatu. The vessel is found by ship inspector Silas Green (John Witherspoon) and his nephew Julius Jones (the actor), two of the most humorous personalities in the movie. The inspector then observes a dark creature jump from the ship, run into an alley, and transform into a man — like Michael Jackson's Panther Dance from the extended Black or White video. Groovy 1970s-inspired soundtrack kicks in, establishing the tone for a movie that expertly mixes horror and humor.
Creative Visions
Recently after his final entry in the Nightmare on Elm Street series, Craven was eager to move beyond his horror reputation and make a more blended comedy (his subsequent project after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which mined horror tropes for both laughs and real fear). At the same time, the star wanted to subvert expectations by venturing into a straight horror rooted in Dracula lore. The clash of those creative goals accounts for the film's exposition-heavy opening of the protagonist's backstory and its somewhat slow commencement. But once the movie hits its stride, it opens up to its strengths — like its diverse ensemble.
The acclaimed actress, as the object of Maximillian’s affection, plays detective Rita Veder, whose relationship with her partner and love interest, detective Justice (the actor), adds a procedural element to the story. Among African American film's most acclaimed performers, she delivers a commanding acting with her co-star, a well-known actor from the time. In the meantime, 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 the vampire's minion. (Watching Julius descend further into his ghoulish role as his skin decays during the movie is a highlight of how the star's comedic style elevates the humor and fear, even when utilized by the cast).
Gothic Intrigue
When Max and Rita’s paths intertwine and Murphy and Bassett appear together, the movie hits its stride — the suspense builds, the scares intensify, and their darkly seductive chemistry becomes the focus. 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 weaken her faith.
As the story unfolds, it becomes more darkly romantic, featuring metamorphoses and revelations of origins. This leads to a third act packed with temptation, as mortality and damnation hang in the balance. The film ends with a teaser hinting at a potential sequel, one that could have happened had the film been more successful. Vampire in Brooklyn earned 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 praising Craven’s direction, the electric chemistry Murphy and Bassett, and its sharp blend of horror and comedy. The film flashes 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. Nevertheless, Vampire in Brooklyn has rightfully earned its spot in the history of African American scary movies, an underappreciated but impactful film characterized by its daring approach and memorable acting.
