The director's latest work may have revitalized the idea of Black vampires, but the roots of this cinematic category trace back to the 1970s cultural movement. One of the most memorable pioneering films was the seminal 1972 movie Blacula. In that film, the actor's role is turned by Dracula and burdened with the insulting name “Blacula.” Initially conceived as a stereotype, Marshall elevated the part into something regal, giving his figure an historical origin as Mamuwalde, a noble royal from Africa.
Years afterward, the comedic star appeared to draw a cue from his predecessor, enriching his own character's mythology in the director'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 demonstrates that Black vampire stories can be humorous, frightening, and thought-provoking all at once, 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 now available on Tubi, making it an must-see if you need a dash of humor with your frights this Halloween.
From Zamunda to Brooklyn
Like Prince Akeem in Coming to America (the actor's 1988 masterpiece), Maximillian is pulled to New York City. But instead of traveling from a fictional kingdom to Queens, he emerges from the Bermuda Triangle into Brooklyn, seeking to locate and ensure the continuation of his undead bloodline with an offspring of his clan.
The character makes his entrance in New York aboard a phantom vessel whose sailors has been mysteriously slaughtered, a homage to Nosferatu. The vessel is discovered by ship inspector Silas Green (the comedian) and his relative Julius Jones (the actor), two of the film's funniest characters. Silas then observes a black wolf leap from the ship, dart into an alley, and transform into a man — reminiscent of Michael Jackson's Panther Dance from the extended Black or White video. Funky 1970s-inspired soundtrack starts, establishing the mood for a movie that expertly mixes horror and humor.
Directorial Ambitions
Recently after his last installment in the iconic horror series, the director was eager to move beyond his scary movie image and make a more hybrid genre film (his subsequent project after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which exploited horror tropes for both laughs and genuine scares). Meanwhile, the star wanted to defy assumptions 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 assets — like its diverse ensemble.
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), adds a crime-drama edge to the story. One of Black cinema’s most acclaimed actresses, Bassett delivers a powerful performance with Payne, a well-known actor from the era. Meanwhile, Murphy spends most of his screen time with his comedic partner, creating a uproarious Abbott-and-Costello-style duo as Hardison’s Julius Jones becomes Max’s undead lackey. (Seeing Julius descend further into his ghoulish role as his skin decays during the movie is a highlight of how Murphy’s usual bag of tricks elevates the comedy and horror, even when utilized by other actors).
Dark Seduction
When Max and Rita’s paths intertwine and the stars finally share the screen, the movie hits its stride — the suspense builds, the scares intensify, and their sinister attraction takes center stage. Max’s plan is to take away all Rita has in her life and then swoop in. He murders her roommate, drives a wedge in between her and her love interest, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque prosthetics to disguise himself as a preacher and undermine her beliefs.
As the plot unfolds, it becomes more darkly romantic, including metamorphoses and discoveries of heritage. This leads to a third act packed with seduction, as life and eternal punishment hang in the balance. The film concludes with a teaser hinting at a possible follow-up, one that might have materialized had the film performed better. Vampire in Brooklyn made a moderate financial success and received mostly negative reviews upon release. Over time, it found new life as a cult favorite, with critics later applauding Craven’s direction, the spark between the leads, and its clever mix of horror and comedy. The movie flashes moments of brilliance that could have been more prominent had all participants been in agreement on a unified vision, rather than delivering the tonal hodgepodge viewers saw. Still, Vampire in Brooklyn has rightfully earned its place in the history of African American scary movies, an overlooked but impactful entry characterized by its daring approach and memorable acting.
