Ryan Coogler's recent work may have revitalized the concept of African American undead, but the origins of this subgenre date back to the Blaxploitation era. Among the most memorable pioneering films was the seminal 1972 movie Blacula. In that motion picture, William Marshall's character is bitten by Dracula and burdened with the demeaning name “Blacula.” Originally written as a stereotype, Marshall elevated the role into something majestic, providing his character an historical origin as Mamuwalde, a proud African prince.
Years afterward, the comedic star appeared to draw inspiration from his predecessor, enriching his own protagonist's lore in Wes Craven's interpretation 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 persecuted to the brink of extinction. Vampire in Brooklyn demonstrates that tales of African American undead can be funny, terrifying, and thought-provoking simultaneously, securing its position in the canon by juggling all three while honoring the subgenre's legacy.
Released three decades back on Oct. 27, 1995, Vampire in Brooklyn is currently streaming on a popular platform, making it an must-see if you need a little comedy with your scares this Halloween.
From Zamunda to Brooklyn
Like Prince Akeem in Coming to America (the actor's 1988 masterpiece), Maximillian is drawn to New York City. But rather than journeying from Zamunda to Queens, he arrives from the Bermuda Triangle into Brooklyn, seeking to locate and ensure the continuation of his undead bloodline with an heir of his clan.
The character makes his entrance in New York aboard a ghost ship whose crew has been inexplicably killed, a nod to Nosferatu. The vessel is discovered by ship inspector Silas Green (the comedian) and his relative Julius Jones (the actor), two of the film's funniest characters. The inspector then observes a black wolf jump from the ship, dart into an alley, and transform into a man — reminiscent of Michael Jackson's Panther Dance from the extended Black or White video. Funky Blaxploitation-style music starts, establishing the tone for a film that handily balances horror and humor.
Directorial Ambitions
Fresh off his final entry in the Nightmare on Elm Street series, the director was keen to break from his horror reputation and create a more blended comedy (his next film after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which mined scary conventions for both comedy and real fear). At the same time, the star aimed to subvert expectations by venturing into a straight horror rooted in Dracula lore. The clash of those artistic aims explains the story's detailed beginning of Max's origins and its somewhat slow commencement. But when the film clicks into high gear, it unfolds to its assets — like its eclectic cast.
Angela Bassett, as the vampire's love interest, plays detective Rita Veder, whose relationship with her colleague and romantic lead, detective Justice (Allen Payne), brings a crime-drama edge to the narrative. One of Black cinema’s most acclaimed actresses, Bassett gives a powerful acting with her co-star, a well-known actor from the time. In the meantime, Murphy spends most of his screen time with Kadeem Hardison, creating a uproarious classic comedy pair as Hardison’s Julius Jones becomes Max’s undead lackey. (Watching Julius descend further into his macabre part as his skin decays during the movie is a standout moment of how the star's comedic style enhances the comedy and horror, even when utilized by the cast).
Dark Seduction
When Max and Rita’s paths intertwine and Murphy and Bassett finally share the screen, the movie reaches its peak — the suspense builds, the fear escalates, and their sinister attraction takes center stage. The vampire's scheme is to take away everything Rita has in her life and then intervene. He murders her housemate, creates conflict between her and her love interest, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque prosthetics to masquerade as a clergyman and undermine her faith.
As the story progresses, it becomes increasingly Gothic, featuring metamorphoses and discoveries of heritage. This leads to a third act filled with seduction, as mortality and damnation are at stake. The movie ends with a stinger suggesting a potential sequel, one that could have happened had the film been more successful. Vampire in Brooklyn earned a moderate financial success and got largely critical reception upon debut. As years passed, it found new life as a cult favorite, with critics later applauding Craven’s direction, the spark between the leads, and its sharp blend of frights and fun. The film flashes glimpses of genius that could have been more prominent had all participants been aligned on a cohesive approach, rather than producing the mixed-genre result viewers saw. Still, Vampire in Brooklyn has rightfully earned its spot in the canon of African American scary movies, an underappreciated but influential entry defined by its bold style and unforgettable performances.
