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Ryan Coogler's recent work may have revitalized the idea of Black vampires, but the origins of this cinematic category date back to the 1970s cultural movement. Among the most memorable pioneering films was the 1972 classic Blacula. In that motion picture, William Marshall's character is bitten by Dracula and cursed with the demeaning name “Blacula.” Originally written as a caricature, the performer transformed the part into something regal, giving his character an historical origin as Mamuwalde, a noble royal from Africa.

Decades later, Eddie Murphy appeared to draw a cue from his predecessor, enriching his own character's mythology in Wes Craven's take on the Black vampire subgenre: Vampire in Brooklyn. The protagonist Maximillian is a descendant of Dracula whose forebears fled to Egypt, and later to the Bermuda Triangle, after being hunted to the edge of annihilation. Vampire in Brooklyn proves that Black vampire stories can be humorous, terrifying, and thought-provoking simultaneously, securing its place in the canon by juggling all three while honoring the heritage of the category.

Released 30 years ago on Oct. 27, 1995, Vampire in Brooklyn is now available on Tubi, making it an must-see if you want a little comedy with your frights this Halloween.

A Tale of Two Cities

Like the royal character in Coming to America (the actor's classic from 1988), Maximillian is drawn to New York City. But instead of journeying from a fictional kingdom to Queens, he arrives from the mysterious region into Brooklyn, aiming to locate and ensure the survival of his undead bloodline with an heir of his tribe.

Maximillian arrives in New York on a ghost ship whose crew has been inexplicably killed, a homage to Nosferatu. The vessel is discovered by harbor official Silas Green (the comedian) and his nephew Julius Jones (Kadeem Hardison), two of the film's funniest characters. The inspector then observes a dark creature jump from the ship, run into an alley, and morph into a human — like Michael Jackson's Panther Dance from the extended Black or White video. Funky 1970s-inspired soundtrack kicks in, setting the tone for a film that expertly mixes scares and laughs.

Directorial Ambitions

Fresh off his final entry in the Nightmare on Elm Street series, Craven was keen to break from his horror reputation and create a more blended comedy (his subsequent project after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which mined horror tropes for both comedy and genuine scares). At the same time, Murphy wanted to defy assumptions by diving into a straight horror rooted in vampire mythology. The clash of those artistic aims explains the story's detailed beginning of Max's origins and its generally sluggish start. But when the movie clicks into high gear, it unfolds to its strengths — like its diverse ensemble.

Angela Bassett, as the vampire's love interest, plays detective Rita Veder, whose relationship with her partner and love interest, detective Justice (the actor), brings a crime-drama edge to the story. One of Black cinema’s most acclaimed actresses, she delivers a powerful acting with her co-star, a familiar face from the era. Meanwhile, the lead spends the majority of the film with his comedic partner, forming a uproarious Abbott-and-Costello-style duo as Hardison’s Julius Jones becomes Max’s undead lackey. (Watching Julius descend further into his ghoulish role as his appearance deteriorates throughout the film is a standout moment 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 film reaches its peak — the suspense builds, the fear escalates, and their darkly seductive chemistry takes center stage. The vampire's scheme is to remove all Rita has in her life and then intervene. He kills her housemate, drives a wedge between her and her love interest, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque make-up effects to masquerade as a clergyman and undermine her faith.

As the story progresses, it becomes increasingly Gothic, including transformations and discoveries of heritage. This results in a final section filled with seduction, as life and eternal punishment hang in the balance. The film concludes with a stinger suggesting a possible follow-up, one that could have happened had the film performed better. Vampire in Brooklyn made a moderate financial success and received mostly negative reviews upon release. Over time, it gained popularity as a cult favorite, with reviewers later applauding Craven’s direction, the spark between the leads, and its sharp blend of horror and comedy. The movie 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 audiences received. Still, Vampire in Brooklyn has deservedly secured its place in the canon of African American scary movies, an underappreciated but influential entry defined by its bold style and unforgettable performances.