Ryan Coogler's latest work may have revitalized the concept 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 film, the actor's role is turned by Dracula and burdened with the demeaning name “Blacula.” Initially conceived as a caricature, Marshall elevated the part into something regal, providing his character an historical origin as Mamuwalde, a noble royal from Africa.
Years afterward, the comedic star appeared to draw a cue from his predecessor, deepening his own protagonist's lore in Wes Craven's interpretation on the African American horror niche: Vampire in Brooklyn. Murphy's Maximillian is a descendant of Dracula whose forebears escaped 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 canon by balancing all three while honoring the heritage of the category.
Debuted 30 years ago on October 27th, 1995, Vampire in Brooklyn is now available on a popular platform, making it an must-see if you need a dash of humor with your frights this spooky season.
From Zamunda to Brooklyn
Like the royal character in Coming to America (the actor's classic from 1988), the vampire lead is drawn to New York City. But rather than traveling from a fictional kingdom to Queens, he emerges from the Bermuda Triangle into Brooklyn, aiming to find and secure the continuation of his undead bloodline with an heir of his tribe.
The character makes his entrance in New York aboard a phantom vessel whose sailors has been mysteriously slaughtered, a homage to Nosferatu. The vessel is discovered by ship inspector Silas Green (John Witherspoon) and his relative Julius Jones (the actor), two of the most humorous personalities in the movie. The inspector then witnesses a dark creature jump from the ship, run into an alley, and morph into a human — reminiscent of Michael Jackson's Panther Dance from the extended Black or White video. Groovy Blaxploitation-style music starts, establishing the mood for a movie that handily balances scares and laughs.
Creative Visions
Fresh off his last installment in the iconic horror series, the director was eager to break from his scary movie image and make a more blended comedy (his next film after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which exploited scary conventions for both laughs and real fear). Meanwhile, Murphy aimed to defy assumptions by venturing into a straight horror rooted in vampire mythology. The clash of those artistic aims accounts for the film's exposition-heavy opening of Max's origins and its somewhat slow commencement. But when the movie hits its stride, it unfolds to its assets — like its eclectic cast.
Angela Bassett, as the object of Maximillian’s affection, plays police officer Rita Veder, whose relationship with her partner and love interest, detective Justice (Allen Payne), adds a procedural element to the narrative. Among Black cinema’s most praised actresses, Bassett delivers a powerful performance with Payne, a well-known actor from the time. In the meantime, Murphy spends most of his screen time with Kadeem Hardison, creating a hilarious classic comedy pair as Hardison’s Julius Jones becomes the vampire's minion. (Seeing Julius sink deeper and deeper into his macabre part as his appearance deteriorates throughout the film is a highlight of how Murphy’s usual bag of tricks elevates the comedy and horror, 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 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 murders her housemate, creates conflict in 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 plot unfolds, it becomes increasingly Gothic, including metamorphoses and discoveries of heritage. This results in a final section filled with temptation, as mortality and damnation hang in the balance. The film concludes with a stinger hinting at a potential sequel, one that might have materialized had the movie been more successful. Vampire in Brooklyn made a modest box office return and received largely critical reception upon release. 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 clever mix of horror and comedy. The film flashes moments of brilliance that could have been more prominent had all participants been in agreement on a cohesive approach, rather than producing the mixed-genre result viewers saw. Still, Vampire in Brooklyn has deservedly secured its spot in the canon of African American scary movies, an overlooked but impactful film characterized by its daring approach and memorable acting.
