The director's latest work may have revitalized the concept of African American undead, but the origins of this cinematic category date back to the Blaxploitation era. 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 burdened with the insulting name “Blacula.” Initially conceived as a stereotype, Marshall elevated the part into something majestic, providing his figure an 18th-century backstory as Mamuwalde, a proud African prince.
Years afterward, the comedic star appeared to draw a cue from his predecessor, deepening his own protagonist's lore in Wes Craven's take on the Black vampire subgenre: Vampire in Brooklyn. The protagonist Maximillian is a heir of Dracula whose ancestors fled to Egypt, and later to the Bermuda Triangle, after being persecuted to the brink of extinction. Vampire in Brooklyn proves that tales of African American undead can be funny, terrifying, and intellectually stimulating simultaneously, securing its place in the hall of fame by juggling all three while respecting the heritage of the category.
Debuted three decades back on Oct. 27, 1995, Vampire in Brooklyn is currently streaming on Tubi, 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 (Murphy's classic from 1988), the vampire lead is drawn to New York City. But instead of traveling from Zamunda to Queens, he arrives from the Bermuda Triangle into Brooklyn, aiming to locate and ensure the continuation of his undead bloodline with an offspring of his tribe.
The character makes his entrance in New York aboard a phantom vessel whose crew has been inexplicably killed, a nod to Nosferatu. The vessel is discovered by harbor official Silas Green (the comedian) and his nephew Julius Jones (the actor), two of the film's funniest characters. Silas then observes a dark creature leap from the ship, run into an alley, and morph into a human — like Michael Jackson's Panther Dance from the extended Black or White video. Funky 1970s-inspired soundtrack starts, setting the tone for a film that expertly mixes scares and laughs.
Artistic Goals
Fresh off his last installment in the Nightmare on Elm Street series, Craven was eager to break from his scary movie image and make a more blended comedy (his subsequent project after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which exploited scary conventions for both laughs and real fear). Meanwhile, Murphy wanted to subvert expectations by diving into a pure scary movie based on vampire mythology. The clash of those artistic aims accounts for the story's detailed beginning of Max's origins and its generally sluggish start. But when the movie hits its stride, it unfolds to its strengths — like its eclectic cast.
Angela Bassett, as the object of Maximillian’s affection, plays police officer Rita Veder, whose relationship with her colleague and romantic lead, detective Justice (the actor), adds a procedural element to the story. One of Black cinema’s most praised performers, Bassett gives a powerful acting with Payne, a well-known actor from the era. In the meantime, the lead spends the majority of the film with his comedic partner, forming a hilarious Abbott-and-Costello-style duo as the actor's Julius Jones becomes the vampire's minion. (Watching Julius descend further into his ghoulish role as his skin decays throughout the film is a highlight of how the star's comedic style elevates the comedy and horror, even when utilized by other actors).
Dark Seduction
When the two leads meet and Murphy and Bassett appear together, the movie hits its stride — the tension heightens, the fear escalates, and their darkly seductive chemistry takes center stage. The vampire's scheme is to take away everything Rita has in her life and then swoop in. He kills her roommate, creates conflict between her and her partner, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque make-up effects to disguise himself as a clergyman and undermine her faith.
As the plot progresses, it becomes more darkly romantic, including metamorphoses and discoveries of heritage. This results in a third act filled with temptation, as life and eternal punishment hang in the balance. The movie ends with a teaser suggesting a possible follow-up, one that could have happened had the movie been more successful. Vampire in Brooklyn earned a moderate financial success and got largely critical reception upon debut. Over time, it gained popularity as a cult favorite, with critics later praising Craven’s direction, the electric chemistry Murphy and Bassett, and its clever mix of horror and comedy. The movie flashes glimpses of genius that might have shone brighter had all participants been aligned on a cohesive approach, rather than producing the mixed-genre result audiences received. Nevertheless, Vampire in Brooklyn has deservedly secured its place in the history of African American scary movies, an underappreciated but impactful entry defined by its daring approach and unforgettable performances.
