The director's recent work may have revitalized the idea of Black vampires, but the origins of this subgenre date back to the 1970s cultural movement. Among the most memorable pioneering films was the seminal 1972 movie Blacula. In that film, William Marshall's character is turned by Dracula and cursed with the demeaning name “Blacula.” Originally written as a stereotype, the performer transformed the role into something regal, providing his figure an historical origin as Mamuwalde, a proud African prince.
Decades later, Eddie Murphy seemed to take a cue from his predecessor, deepening his own character's mythology in Wes Craven's interpretation on the African American horror niche: Vampire in Brooklyn. Murphy's Maximillian is a heir of Dracula whose forebears 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 humorous, frightening, and intellectually stimulating all at once, securing its position in the canon by juggling all three while honoring the heritage of the category.
Released three decades back on October 27th, 1995, Vampire in Brooklyn is currently streaming on Tubi, making it an must-see if you need a little comedy with your frights this Halloween.
A Tale of Two Cities
Like the royal character in Coming to America (the actor's 1988 masterpiece), Maximillian is pulled to the Big Apple. But rather than journeying from a fictional kingdom 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 clan.
Maximillian arrives in New York on a ghost ship whose crew has been mysteriously slaughtered, a homage to Nosferatu. The ship is found by harbor official Silas Green (the comedian) and his relative Julius Jones (the actor), two of the most humorous personalities in the movie. The inspector then witnesses a black wolf leap from the ship, run into an alley, and transform into a man — like the iconic routine from the longer Black or White video. Funky 1970s-inspired soundtrack kicks in, setting the mood for a movie that handily balances scares and laughs.
Artistic Goals
Fresh off his last installment in the iconic horror series, Craven was eager to move beyond his horror reputation and create a more blended comedy (his subsequent project after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which exploited horror tropes for both laughs and genuine scares). At the same time, Murphy wanted to defy assumptions by venturing into a straight horror rooted in Dracula lore. The clash of those artistic aims accounts for the film's exposition-heavy opening of Max's origins 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 object of Maximillian’s affection, plays police officer Rita Veder, whose relationship with her colleague and romantic lead, detective Justice (Allen Payne), adds a crime-drama edge to the story. Among Black cinema’s most praised actresses, she delivers a powerful acting with her co-star, a well-known actor from the time. In the meantime, Murphy spends the majority of the film with his comedic partner, forming a hilarious Abbott-and-Costello-style duo as Hardison’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 humor and fear, even when employed by the cast).
Dark Seduction
When the two leads meet and the stars appear together, the movie reaches its peak — the suspense builds, the fear escalates, and their sinister attraction becomes the focus. The vampire's scheme is to take away everything Rita has in her life and then intervene. He kills her roommate, creates conflict in between her and her partner, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque prosthetics to masquerade as a clergyman and weaken her beliefs.
As the plot unfolds, it becomes increasingly Gothic, including metamorphoses and discoveries of heritage. This leads to a third act packed with seduction, as mortality and damnation hang in the balance. The film concludes with a stinger hinting at a potential sequel, one that might have materialized had the movie been more successful. Vampire in Brooklyn made a modest box office return and received largely critical reception upon debut. As years passed, it gained popularity as a cult favorite, with reviewers later applauding Craven’s direction, the electric chemistry the leads, and its sharp blend of frights and fun. The movie shows glimpses of genius that could have been more prominent had all participants been in agreement on a cohesive approach, rather than delivering the tonal hodgepodge viewers saw. Nevertheless, Vampire in Brooklyn has rightfully earned its spot in the canon of African American scary movies, an underappreciated but influential film defined by its daring approach and memorable acting.
