The director's latest work may have revitalized the idea of African American undead, but the origins of this cinematic category date back to the Blaxploitation era. Among the most memorable early examples was the seminal 1972 movie Blacula. In that motion picture, the actor's role is turned by Dracula and cursed with the insulting name “Blacula.” Initially conceived as a stereotype, the performer transformed the role 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 Marshall, deepening his own protagonist's lore in Wes Craven's interpretation on the Black vampire subgenre: Vampire in Brooklyn. The protagonist 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 proves that tales of African American undead can be humorous, terrifying, and intellectually stimulating simultaneously, securing its position in the hall of fame by juggling all three while honoring the subgenre's legacy.
Debuted 30 years ago on Oct. 27, 1995, Vampire in Brooklyn is now available on a popular platform, making it an essential watch if you want a little comedy with your scares this Halloween.
A Tale of Two Cities
Like the royal character in Coming to America (the actor's 1988 masterpiece), the vampire lead is pulled to New York City. But instead of journeying from Zamunda to Queens, he emerges from the mysterious region into Brooklyn, seeking to locate and ensure the survival of his undead bloodline with an offspring of his clan.
The character makes his entrance in New York on a phantom vessel whose crew has been mysteriously slaughtered, a homage to Nosferatu. The ship is found by ship inspector Silas Green (the comedian) and his relative Julius Jones (Kadeem Hardison), two of the film's funniest characters. The inspector then witnesses a dark creature leap from the ship, dart into an alley, and transform into a human — like 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
Recently after his last installment in the iconic horror series, Craven was eager to move beyond his horror reputation and create a more hybrid genre film (his next film after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which mined horror tropes for both laughs and genuine scares). At the same time, Murphy wanted to defy assumptions by venturing into a straight horror based on vampire mythology. The clash of those creative goals explains the film's exposition-heavy opening of the protagonist's backstory and its generally sluggish start. But when the movie hits its stride, it opens up to its assets — like its eclectic cast.
Angela Bassett, as the vampire's love interest, plays police officer Rita Veder, whose relationship with her partner and love interest, detective Justice (the actor), brings a crime-drama edge to the story. One of African American film's most praised performers, she gives a commanding acting with Payne, a familiar face from the time. Meanwhile, the lead spends most of his screen time with his comedic partner, forming a uproarious classic comedy pair as Hardison’s Julius Jones becomes the vampire's minion. (Watching Julius descend further into his macabre part as his skin decays during the movie is a highlight of how Murphy’s usual bag of tricks elevates the humor and fear, even when employed by other actors).
Gothic Intrigue
When Max and Rita’s paths intertwine and Murphy and Bassett appear together, the film reaches its peak — the suspense builds, the fear escalates, and their sinister attraction takes center stage. The vampire's scheme is to remove all Rita has in her life and then intervene. He kills her housemate, drives a wedge in between her and her love interest, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque prosthetics to masquerade as a preacher and undermine her faith.
As the story progresses, it becomes more darkly romantic, including metamorphoses and discoveries of heritage. This leads to a third act packed with temptation, as life and eternal punishment hang in the balance. The film ends with a teaser suggesting a potential sequel, one that might have materialized had the film performed better. Vampire in Brooklyn earned a modest box office return and received largely critical reception upon release. As years passed, it found new life as a beloved classic, with critics later applauding the filmmaker's work, the spark between Murphy and Bassett, and its clever mix of horror and comedy. The movie shows moments of brilliance that could have been more prominent had all participants been aligned on a unified vision, rather than producing the tonal hodgepodge audiences received. Nevertheless, Vampire in Brooklyn has deservedly secured its spot in the canon of African American scary movies, an underappreciated but influential entry characterized by its daring approach and unforgettable performances.
