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Ryan Coogler's recent work may have revitalized the idea of Black vampires, but the origins of this subgenre date back to the 1970s cultural movement. One of the most iconic pioneering films was the 1972 classic Blacula. In that film, William Marshall's character is bitten by Dracula and cursed with the demeaning name “Blacula.” Originally written as a caricature, Marshall elevated the role into something majestic, providing his character an historical origin as Mamuwalde, a proud African prince.

Decades later, Eddie Murphy appeared to draw a cue from his predecessor, deepening his own character's mythology in the director's interpretation on the African American horror niche: Vampire in Brooklyn. Murphy's Maximillian is a descendant of Dracula whose ancestors escaped to Egypt, and later to the Bermuda Triangle, after being hunted to the brink of extinction. Vampire in Brooklyn demonstrates that Black vampire stories can be humorous, frightening, and thought-provoking simultaneously, earning its place in the hall of fame by juggling all three while respecting the heritage of the category.

Released three decades back on October 27th, 1995, Vampire in Brooklyn is now available on a popular platform, making it an must-see if you want a dash of humor with your scares this spooky season.

A Tale of Two Cities

Like the royal character in Coming to America (Murphy's classic from 1988), Maximillian is drawn to the Big Apple. But rather than traveling from a fictional kingdom to Queens, he arrives from the mysterious region 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 on a phantom vessel whose sailors has been inexplicably killed, a homage to Nosferatu. The vessel is discovered by ship inspector Silas Green (the comedian) and his nephew Julius Jones (the actor), two of the most humorous personalities in the movie. The inspector then observes a black wolf jump from the ship, dart into an alley, and transform into a man — like the iconic routine from the extended Black or White video. Groovy 1970s-inspired soundtrack kicks in, setting the tone for a movie that expertly mixes horror and humor.

Directorial Ambitions

Recently after his final entry in the Nightmare on Elm Street series, the director was keen to move beyond his horror reputation and create a more hybrid genre film (his next film after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which exploited scary conventions for both laughs and real fear). At the same time, the star aimed to defy assumptions by venturing into a pure scary movie based on Dracula lore. The conflict of those creative goals accounts for the film's exposition-heavy opening of Max's origins and its somewhat slow commencement. But once the film clicks into high gear, it opens up to its strengths — like its eclectic cast.

The acclaimed actress, 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 narrative. One of African American film's most acclaimed actresses, Bassett delivers a commanding performance alongside her co-star, a well-known actor from the time. In the meantime, the lead spends the majority of the film with his comedic partner, creating a uproarious classic comedy pair as the actor's Julius Jones becomes Max’s undead lackey. (Seeing Julius descend further into his macabre part as his skin decays throughout the film is a standout moment of how the star's comedic style elevates the humor and fear, even when utilized by other actors).

Gothic Intrigue

When the two leads meet and Murphy and Bassett appear together, the movie hits its stride — the suspense builds, 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 housemate, drives a wedge between her and her partner, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque make-up effects to disguise himself as a clergyman and weaken her faith.

As the story unfolds, it becomes more darkly romantic, featuring metamorphoses and revelations of origins. This leads to a third act filled with temptation, as life and eternal punishment hang in the balance. The film ends with a teaser suggesting a possible follow-up, one that might have materialized had the film performed better. Vampire in Brooklyn made a modest box office return and received mostly negative reviews upon release. As years passed, it found new life as a cult favorite, with critics later praising Craven’s direction, the spark between the leads, and its clever mix of frights and fun. The movie shows moments of brilliance that might have shone brighter had all participants been aligned on a unified vision, rather than delivering the tonal hodgepodge audiences received. Still, Vampire in Brooklyn has rightfully earned its spot in the canon of African American scary movies, an underappreciated but influential entry characterized by its daring approach and unforgettable performances.