The director's recent work may have revitalized the concept of African American undead, but the origins of this subgenre trace back to the 1970s cultural movement. Among the most memorable early examples was the seminal 1972 movie Blacula. In that motion picture, the actor's character is bitten by Dracula and cursed with the insulting name “Blacula.” Originally written as a stereotype, Marshall elevated the part into something majestic, providing his character an 18th-century backstory as Mamuwalde, a proud African prince.
Decades later, Eddie Murphy appeared to draw a cue from Marshall, enriching his own protagonist's lore in the director's interpretation on the African American horror niche: Vampire in Brooklyn. Murphy's Maximillian is a heir of Dracula whose ancestors fled 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, terrifying, and thought-provoking simultaneously, earning its place in the canon by balancing 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 little comedy with your scares this Halloween.
An Urban Vampire Story
Like the royal character in Coming to America (the actor's classic from 1988), 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 survival of his undead bloodline with an heir of his clan.
The character makes his entrance in New York on a ghost ship whose sailors has been inexplicably killed, a homage to Nosferatu. The ship is discovered by ship inspector Silas Green (John Witherspoon) and his nephew Julius Jones (the actor), two of the film's funniest characters. Silas then observes a dark creature jump from the ship, run into an alley, and morph into a human — reminiscent of Michael Jackson's Panther Dance from the extended Black or White video. Funky Blaxploitation-style music starts, establishing the tone for a movie that handily balances horror and humor.
Directorial Ambitions
Recently after his final entry in the Nightmare on Elm Street series, the director was keen to break from his horror reputation and make a more hybrid genre film (his next film after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which mined scary conventions for both laughs and real fear). At the same time, the star aimed to subvert expectations by venturing into a pure scary movie based on vampire mythology. The conflict of those artistic aims accounts for the story's detailed beginning of Max's origins and its somewhat slow commencement. But once the movie clicks into high gear, it opens up to its strengths — like its eclectic cast.
Angela Bassett, as the vampire's love interest, plays police officer Rita Veder, whose dynamic with her colleague and romantic lead, detective Justice (Allen Payne), brings a crime-drama edge to the story. Among African American film's most praised actresses, Bassett delivers a powerful acting with her co-star, a familiar face from the time. Meanwhile, Murphy spends the majority of the film with Kadeem Hardison, creating a uproarious Abbott-and-Costello-style duo as the actor's Julius Jones becomes Max’s undead lackey. (Seeing Julius descend further into his macabre part as his appearance deteriorates during the movie is a highlight of how Murphy’s usual bag of tricks elevates the comedy and horror, even when utilized by the cast).
Gothic Intrigue
When the two leads meet and Murphy and Bassett finally share the screen, the movie hits its stride — the tension heightens, the fear escalates, and their sinister attraction takes center stage. Max’s plan is to take away all Rita has in her life and then intervene. He kills her roommate, drives a wedge between her and her love interest, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque prosthetics to disguise himself as a preacher and weaken her faith.
As the story unfolds, it becomes more darkly romantic, including metamorphoses and discoveries of heritage. This results in a third act filled with temptation, as mortality and damnation hang in the balance. The movie concludes with a teaser suggesting a possible follow-up, one that might have materialized had the movie performed better. Vampire in Brooklyn made a modest box office return and got mostly negative reviews upon debut. Over time, it gained popularity as a cult favorite, with reviewers later praising the filmmaker's work, the electric chemistry Murphy and Bassett, and its sharp blend of frights and fun. The film flashes glimpses of genius that might have shone brighter had everyone involved been in agreement on a unified vision, rather than delivering the tonal hodgepodge viewers saw. Still, Vampire in Brooklyn has rightfully earned its spot in the canon of African American scary movies, an overlooked but influential entry characterized by its daring approach and memorable acting.
