The director's recent project may have revitalized the concept of African American undead, but the roots of this subgenre date back to the Blaxploitation era. Among the most memorable early examples was the seminal 1972 movie Blacula. In that motion picture, William Marshall's role is bitten by Dracula and cursed with the demeaning name “Blacula.” Originally written as a caricature, Marshall transformed the role into something regal, giving his character an historical origin as Mamuwalde, a proud African prince.
Years afterward, the comedic star seemed to take inspiration from his predecessor, deepening his own character's mythology in Wes Craven's interpretation on the African American horror niche: Vampire in Brooklyn. Murphy's Maximillian is a heir of Dracula whose forebears fled to Egypt, and later to the Bermuda Triangle, after being persecuted to the edge of annihilation. Vampire in Brooklyn proves that tales of African American undead can be humorous, terrifying, and intellectually stimulating simultaneously, earning its place in the hall of fame by juggling all three while honoring the subgenre's legacy.
Released 30 years ago on Oct. 27, 1995, Vampire in Brooklyn is currently streaming on Tubi, making it an essential watch if you need a little comedy with your frights this spooky season.
An Urban Vampire Story
Like the royal character in Coming to America (Murphy's 1988 masterpiece), the vampire lead is pulled to the Big Apple. 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 tribe.
Maximillian arrives in New York on a phantom vessel whose crew has been mysteriously slaughtered, a homage to Nosferatu. The vessel is found by ship inspector Silas Green (the comedian) and his nephew Julius Jones (Kadeem Hardison), two of the film's funniest characters. Silas then observes a black wolf leap 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. Groovy Blaxploitation-style music kicks in, setting the mood for a movie that expertly mixes horror and humor.
Creative Visions
Recently after his final entry in the iconic horror series, the director was keen to move beyond his horror reputation and create a more blended comedy (his next film after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which mined scary conventions for both laughs and genuine scares). At the same time, Murphy aimed to defy assumptions by venturing into a pure scary movie based on Dracula lore. The clash of those creative goals accounts for the film's exposition-heavy opening of Max's origins and its generally sluggish start. But once the film clicks into high gear, it opens up to its assets — like its eclectic cast.
Angela Bassett, as the vampire's love interest, plays detective Rita Veder, whose dynamic with her colleague and romantic lead, detective Justice (Allen Payne), adds a procedural element to the story. One of Black cinema’s most acclaimed performers, she delivers a commanding performance alongside Payne, a familiar face from the time. Meanwhile, the lead spends the majority of the film with his comedic partner, forming a hilarious Abbott-and-Costello-style duo as Hardison’s Julius Jones becomes Max’s undead lackey. (Watching Julius descend further into his macabre part as his skin decays during the movie is a highlight of how Murphy’s usual bag of tricks enhances the comedy and horror, even when utilized by the cast).
Gothic Intrigue
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 darkly seductive chemistry takes center stage. Max’s plan is to remove all Rita has in her life and then swoop in. He murders her roommate, creates conflict in between her and her love interest, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque prosthetics to disguise himself as a clergyman and weaken her beliefs.
As the story progresses, it becomes increasingly Gothic, including metamorphoses and discoveries of heritage. This results in a third act packed with temptation, as mortality and damnation hang in the balance. The movie concludes with a stinger suggesting a potential sequel, one that might have materialized had the film performed better. Vampire in Brooklyn earned a moderate financial success and got mostly negative reviews upon release. Over time, it gained popularity as a cult favorite, with critics later applauding Craven’s direction, the electric chemistry the leads, and its clever mix of frights and fun. The movie flashes moments of brilliance 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 spot in the canon of African American scary movies, an overlooked but impactful entry defined by its daring approach and unforgettable performances.
