Ryan Coogler's latest work may have revitalized the idea of Black vampires, but the origins of this cinematic category trace back to the Blaxploitation era. Among the most iconic early examples was the seminal 1972 movie Blacula. In that motion picture, the actor's character is bitten by Dracula and burdened with the demeaning name “Blacula.” Originally written as a caricature, Marshall elevated the role into something majestic, giving his figure an 18th-century backstory as Mamuwalde, a proud African prince.
Decades later, the comedic star seemed to take inspiration from Marshall, enriching his own character's mythology in Wes Craven's take on the African American horror niche: Vampire in Brooklyn. The protagonist Maximillian is a descendant of Dracula whose forebears escaped to Egypt, and later to the Bermuda Triangle, after being persecuted to the edge of annihilation. Vampire in Brooklyn proves that Black vampire stories can be funny, terrifying, and thought-provoking simultaneously, securing its position in the canon by juggling all three while honoring the heritage of the category.
Debuted 30 years ago on Oct. 27, 1995, Vampire in Brooklyn is now available on Tubi, making it an must-see if you want a dash of humor with your frights this Halloween.
An Urban Vampire Story
Similar to the royal character in Coming to America (the actor's classic from 1988), Maximillian is drawn to New York City. But rather than journeying from Zamunda to Queens, he emerges 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 nod to Nosferatu. The vessel is discovered by harbor official Silas Green (John Witherspoon) and his relative Julius Jones (the actor), two of the most humorous personalities in the movie. The inspector then observes a black wolf leap from the ship, dart into an alley, and transform into a human — reminiscent of Michael Jackson's Panther Dance from the longer Black or White video. Groovy Blaxploitation-style music starts, setting the mood for a film that expertly mixes scares and laughs.
Artistic Goals
Fresh off his final entry in the iconic horror series, the director was eager to break from his horror reputation and make a more blended comedy (his subsequent project after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which mined horror tropes for both comedy and real fear). At the same time, Murphy wanted to defy assumptions 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 Max's origins and its somewhat slow commencement. But when the film hits its stride, it unfolds to its strengths — like its eclectic cast.
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), brings a crime-drama edge to the story. Among Black cinema’s most acclaimed actresses, Bassett gives a commanding acting alongside her co-star, a familiar face from the era. Meanwhile, Murphy spends the majority of the film with his comedic partner, creating a hilarious Abbott-and-Costello-style duo as the actor's Julius Jones becomes the vampire's minion. (Seeing Julius descend further into his macabre part as his appearance deteriorates during the movie is a highlight of how the star's comedic style elevates the comedy and horror, even when utilized by the cast).
Supernatural Romance
When Max and Rita’s paths intertwine and Murphy and Bassett finally share the screen, the film hits its stride — the tension heightens, the fear escalates, and their darkly seductive chemistry becomes the focus. Max’s plan is to remove everything Rita has in her life and then swoop in. He kills her roommate, drives a wedge in between her and her love interest, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque make-up effects to disguise himself as a clergyman and weaken her faith.
As the story progresses, it becomes more darkly romantic, including transformations and discoveries of heritage. This results in a third act filled with seduction, as mortality and damnation are at stake. The movie concludes with a stinger suggesting a potential sequel, one that might have materialized had the movie performed better. Vampire in Brooklyn earned a moderate financial success and got mostly negative reviews upon debut. Over time, it found new life as a cult favorite, with reviewers later applauding Craven’s direction, the spark between Murphy and Bassett, and its sharp blend of horror and comedy. The film flashes moments of brilliance that could have been more prominent had all participants been aligned on a unified vision, rather than delivering the mixed-genre result audiences received. Still, Vampire in Brooklyn has deservedly secured its place in the history of African American scary movies, an underappreciated but impactful entry characterized by its daring approach and unforgettable performances.
