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Ryan Coogler's latest project may have revitalized the concept of Black vampires, but the origins of this subgenre date back to the Blaxploitation era. Among the most memorable pioneering films was the seminal 1972 movie Blacula. In that motion picture, William Marshall's role is bitten by Dracula and burdened with the insulting name “Blacula.” Originally written as a stereotype, Marshall elevated the part into something majestic, giving his character an historical origin as Mamuwalde, a noble royal from Africa.

Years afterward, the comedic star appeared to draw a cue from his predecessor, deepening his own character's mythology in the director's take on the Black vampire subgenre: Vampire in Brooklyn. The protagonist Maximillian is a descendant of Dracula whose ancestors fled 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 funny, terrifying, and thought-provoking all at once, earning its position in the hall of fame by balancing all three while respecting the subgenre's legacy.

Debuted 30 years ago on October 27th, 1995, Vampire in Brooklyn is now available on a popular platform, making it an essential watch if you need a little comedy with your frights this spooky season.

A Tale of Two Cities

Like the royal character in Coming to America (Murphy's 1988 masterpiece), Maximillian is drawn to New York City. But rather than traveling from a fictional kingdom to Queens, he emerges from the Bermuda Triangle into Brooklyn, seeking to find and secure the continuation of his undead bloodline with an heir of his clan.

The character makes his entrance in New York on a phantom vessel whose sailors 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 observes a black wolf jump from the ship, run into an alley, and transform into a man — like Michael Jackson's Panther Dance from the extended Black or White video. Groovy 1970s-inspired soundtrack starts, setting the mood for a movie that handily balances horror and humor.

Artistic Goals

Fresh off his last installment in the Nightmare on Elm Street series, the director was eager to break from his scary movie image and create a more hybrid genre film (his subsequent project after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which mined horror tropes for both comedy and real fear). Meanwhile, the star aimed to defy assumptions by diving into a straight horror based on vampire mythology. The conflict of those creative goals explains the story's detailed beginning of Max's origins and its somewhat slow commencement. But when the film 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 dynamic with her partner and love interest, detective Justice (the actor), adds a procedural element to the narrative. One of Black cinema’s most praised performers, Bassett gives a powerful acting with Payne, a familiar face from the era. Meanwhile, the lead spends the majority of the film with his comedic partner, forming a uproarious classic comedy pair as Hardison’s Julius Jones becomes Max’s undead lackey. (Seeing Julius descend further into his ghoulish role as his skin decays throughout the film is a highlight of how the star's comedic style elevates the humor and fear, even when employed by the cast).

Gothic Intrigue

When the two leads meet and Murphy and Bassett finally share the screen, the film 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 kills her housemate, creates conflict between her and her love interest, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque make-up effects to masquerade as a preacher and undermine her faith.

As the plot unfolds, it becomes more darkly romantic, including metamorphoses and revelations of origins. This leads to a final section packed with temptation, as mortality and damnation hang in the balance. The film concludes with a teaser hinting at a potential sequel, one that might have materialized had the movie been more successful. Vampire in Brooklyn earned a modest box office return and got largely critical reception upon release. As years passed, it gained popularity as a cult favorite, with reviewers 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 everyone involved been in agreement on a unified vision, rather than producing the tonal hodgepodge audiences received. Still, Vampire in Brooklyn has rightfully earned its place in the canon of Black horror, an underappreciated but impactful film defined by its daring approach and unforgettable performances.