Ryan Coogler's recent work may have breathed new life into the idea 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 1972 classic Blacula. In that motion picture, the actor's character is bitten by Dracula and burdened with the insulting name “Blacula.” Initially conceived as a stereotype, the performer transformed the role into something majestic, giving his character an 18th-century backstory as Mamuwalde, a proud African prince.
Decades later, the comedic star appeared to draw inspiration from Marshall, deepening his own protagonist's lore in the director's interpretation on the Black vampire subgenre: Vampire in Brooklyn. Murphy's 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 Black vampire stories can be funny, terrifying, and thought-provoking all at once, earning its position in the canon by juggling all three while respecting 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 must-see if you need a little comedy with your scares this Halloween.
From Zamunda to Brooklyn
Similar to Prince Akeem in Coming to America (the actor's 1988 masterpiece), the vampire lead is drawn to New York City. But rather than journeying from Zamunda to Queens, he arrives from the mysterious region into Brooklyn, aiming to find and secure the continuation of his vampire lineage with an heir of his tribe.
The character makes his entrance in New York aboard a ghost ship whose crew has been inexplicably killed, a homage to Nosferatu. The ship is found by ship inspector Silas Green (John Witherspoon) and his nephew 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 the iconic routine from the longer Black or White video. Funky 1970s-inspired soundtrack kicks in, setting the tone for a movie that expertly mixes horror and humor.
Creative Visions
Recently after his last installment in the Nightmare on Elm Street series, the director was eager to break from his scary movie image 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). Meanwhile, the star aimed to subvert expectations by venturing into a pure scary movie based on vampire mythology. The conflict of those creative goals accounts for the film's exposition-heavy opening of Max's origins and its somewhat slow commencement. But when the film hits its stride, it unfolds 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 (Allen Payne), adds a crime-drama edge to the narrative. One of African American film's most praised performers, she delivers a commanding acting with Payne, a familiar face from the time. Meanwhile, the lead spends the majority of the film with Kadeem Hardison, forming a hilarious classic comedy pair as the actor's Julius Jones becomes Max’s undead lackey. (Watching Julius descend further into his ghoulish role as his skin decays during the movie is a highlight of how Murphy’s usual bag of tricks enhances the comedy and horror, even when employed by other actors).
Gothic Intrigue
When Max and Rita’s paths intertwine and the stars finally share the screen, the film hits its stride — the tension heightens, the scares intensify, and their sinister attraction takes center stage. Max’s plan is to remove everything Rita has in her life and then swoop in. He kills her roommate, creates conflict between her and her love interest, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque prosthetics to disguise himself as a preacher and undermine her beliefs.
As the story unfolds, it becomes increasingly Gothic, featuring transformations and revelations of origins. This leads to a third act packed with seduction, as mortality and damnation hang in the balance. The film ends with a teaser hinting at a possible follow-up, one that could have happened had the movie performed better. Vampire in Brooklyn earned a moderate financial success and received largely critical reception upon release. As years passed, it gained popularity as a cult favorite, with reviewers later applauding Craven’s direction, the spark between Murphy and Bassett, and its sharp blend of frights and fun. The film flashes moments of brilliance that could have been more prominent had everyone involved been in agreement on a unified vision, rather than delivering the tonal hodgepodge audiences received. Nevertheless, Vampire in Brooklyn has rightfully earned its place in the history of African American scary movies, an underappreciated but impactful entry defined by its daring approach and unforgettable performances.