The director's recent project may have revitalized the idea of African American undead, but the origins of this subgenre date back to the Blaxploitation era. One of the most memorable pioneering films was the 1972 classic Blacula. In that motion picture, the actor's character is bitten by Dracula and cursed with the demeaning name “Blacula.” Originally written as a stereotype, the performer transformed the part into something majestic, providing his figure an 18th-century backstory as Mamuwalde, a proud African prince.
Years afterward, Eddie Murphy seemed to take inspiration from Marshall, enriching his own character's mythology in Wes Craven's take on the Black vampire subgenre: Vampire in Brooklyn. Murphy's Maximillian is a heir of Dracula whose ancestors escaped to Egypt, and later to the Bermuda Triangle, after being persecuted to the brink of extinction. Vampire in Brooklyn proves that tales of African American undead can be funny, frightening, and thought-provoking simultaneously, earning its position in the hall of fame by balancing all three while honoring the heritage of the category.
Released three decades back on October 27th, 1995, Vampire in Brooklyn is currently streaming on a popular platform, making it an must-see if you need a dash of humor with your scares this spooky season.
An Urban Vampire Story
Similar to Prince Akeem 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 continuation of his vampire lineage with an offspring of his clan.
Maximillian arrives in New York on a phantom vessel whose sailors has been inexplicably killed, a homage to Nosferatu. The vessel is discovered by harbor official Silas Green (the comedian) and his relative Julius Jones (the actor), two of the most humorous personalities in the movie. Silas then observes a black wolf 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. Funky 1970s-inspired soundtrack starts, establishing the tone for a film that handily balances scares and laughs.
Directorial Ambitions
Fresh off his final entry in the Nightmare on Elm Street series, Craven was eager to break from his scary movie image and create a more blended comedy (his next film 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 venturing into a straight horror rooted in vampire mythology. The conflict of those artistic aims explains the story's detailed beginning of Max's origins and its somewhat slow commencement. But once the film clicks into high gear, it unfolds to its assets — like its eclectic cast.
Angela Bassett, as the vampire's love interest, plays detective Rita Veder, whose dynamic with her partner and love interest, detective Justice (the actor), adds a procedural element to the narrative. Among Black cinema’s most acclaimed actresses, she delivers a commanding performance with her co-star, a familiar face from the era. In the meantime, Murphy spends most of his screen time with Kadeem Hardison, forming a hilarious classic comedy pair as the actor's Julius Jones becomes Max’s undead lackey. (Watching Julius sink deeper and deeper into his ghoulish role as his skin decays during the movie is a standout moment of how Murphy’s usual bag of tricks elevates the humor and fear, even when employed by the cast).
Supernatural Romance
When Max and Rita’s paths intertwine and Murphy and Bassett appear together, the film hits its stride — the tension heightens, the fear escalates, and their sinister attraction becomes the focus. Max’s plan is to take away all Rita has in her life and then swoop in. He kills 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 weaken her beliefs.
As the story progresses, it becomes increasingly Gothic, including transformations and discoveries of heritage. This leads to a final section packed with seduction, as life and eternal punishment are at stake. The film concludes with a stinger suggesting a possible follow-up, one that might have materialized had the movie performed better. Vampire in Brooklyn made a moderate financial success and received largely critical reception upon release. Over time, it found new life as a beloved classic, with critics later applauding Craven’s direction, the electric chemistry Murphy and Bassett, and its clever mix of frights and fun. The film flashes glimpses of genius that might have shone brighter had all participants been aligned on a unified vision, rather than delivering the tonal hodgepodge audiences received. Still, Vampire in Brooklyn has deservedly secured its spot in the history of Black horror, an underappreciated but influential entry characterized by its bold style and unforgettable performances.
