The director's latest work may have revitalized the concept of African American undead, but the roots of this cinematic category trace back to the 1970s cultural movement. Among the most memorable early examples was the 1972 classic Blacula. In that film, the actor's character is turned by Dracula and burdened with the insulting name “Blacula.” Initially conceived as a stereotype, Marshall elevated the role into something regal, giving his figure an historical origin as Mamuwalde, a noble royal from Africa.
Decades later, the comedic star seemed to take a cue from his predecessor, enriching his own character's mythology in Wes Craven's interpretation on the Black vampire subgenre: Vampire in Brooklyn. Murphy's Maximillian is a heir of Dracula whose ancestors 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 funny, terrifying, and thought-provoking simultaneously, securing its place in the canon by balancing all three while honoring the subgenre's legacy.
Released 30 years ago on Oct. 27, 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 Halloween.
A Tale of Two Cities
Like the royal character in Coming to America (Murphy's classic from 1988), the vampire lead is drawn to New York City. But instead of journeying from Zamunda to Queens, he arrives from the mysterious region into Brooklyn, seeking to locate and ensure the survival of his vampire lineage with an heir of his tribe.
The character makes his entrance in New York aboard a ghost ship whose crew has been inexplicably killed, a nod to Nosferatu. The ship is found by harbor official Silas Green (the comedian) and his relative Julius Jones (the actor), two of the film's funniest characters. The inspector then witnesses a dark creature jump from the ship, dart into an alley, and morph into a human — like Michael Jackson's Panther Dance from the extended Black or White video. Groovy 1970s-inspired soundtrack starts, setting the mood for a film that handily balances horror and humor.
Artistic Goals
Recently after his last installment in the Nightmare on Elm Street series, Craven was eager to break from his scary movie image and make a more blended comedy (his subsequent project after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which exploited horror tropes for both comedy and genuine scares). At the same time, Murphy wanted to defy assumptions by diving into a pure scary movie rooted in vampire mythology. The clash of those creative goals explains the film's exposition-heavy opening of Max's origins and its generally sluggish start. But when the film hits its stride, it opens up to its assets — like its eclectic cast.
Angela Bassett, as the vampire's love interest, plays police officer Rita Veder, whose relationship with her colleague and romantic lead, detective Justice (Allen Payne), brings a procedural element to the story. One of Black cinema’s most acclaimed performers, Bassett delivers a powerful performance with her co-star, a well-known actor from the time. In the meantime, Murphy spends the majority of the film with Kadeem Hardison, creating a hilarious classic comedy pair as Hardison’s Julius Jones becomes Max’s undead lackey. (Seeing Julius descend further into his ghoulish role as his appearance deteriorates throughout the film is a highlight of how the star's comedic style elevates the comedy and horror, even when employed by other actors).
Dark Seduction
When Max and Rita’s paths intertwine and Murphy and Bassett finally share the screen, the movie reaches its peak — 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 masquerade as a clergyman and undermine her beliefs.
As the plot progresses, it becomes increasingly Gothic, featuring transformations and revelations of origins. This leads to a third act filled with temptation, as mortality and damnation hang in the balance. The movie concludes with a teaser suggesting a potential sequel, one that might have materialized had the film performed better. Vampire in Brooklyn made a moderate financial success and got largely critical reception upon debut. Over time, it found new life as a cult favorite, with critics later applauding Craven’s direction, the spark between Murphy and Bassett, and its clever mix of frights and fun. The movie shows moments of brilliance that might have shone brighter had all participants been in agreement on a unified vision, rather than delivering the mixed-genre result viewers saw. Still, Vampire in Brooklyn has rightfully earned its spot in the canon of Black horror, an overlooked but impactful entry defined by its bold style and unforgettable performances.
