Ryan Coogler's recent work may have breathed new life into the idea of African American undead, but the origins of this cinematic category date back to the Blaxploitation era. Among the most memorable pioneering films was the seminal 1972 movie Blacula. In that film, William Marshall's role is bitten by Dracula and burdened with the demeaning name “Blacula.” Initially conceived as a stereotype, Marshall elevated the role into something majestic, giving his character an historical origin as Mamuwalde, a noble royal from Africa.
Decades later, Eddie Murphy appeared to draw a cue from Marshall, enriching his own character's mythology in the director's take on the African American horror niche: Vampire in Brooklyn. The protagonist Maximillian is a descendant of Dracula whose ancestors escaped to Egypt, and later to the Bermuda Triangle, after being persecuted to the edge of annihilation. Vampire in Brooklyn proves that Black vampire stories can be funny, terrifying, and thought-provoking simultaneously, securing its position in the hall of fame by juggling all three while respecting the heritage of the category.
Debuted 30 years ago on October 27th, 1995, Vampire in Brooklyn is currently streaming on Tubi, making it an must-see if you need a little comedy with your frights this Halloween.
A Tale of Two Cities
Like Prince Akeem in Coming to America (the actor's 1988 masterpiece), the vampire lead is drawn to the Big Apple. But rather than traveling from a fictional kingdom to Queens, he arrives from the Bermuda Triangle into Brooklyn, aiming to find and secure the continuation of his vampire lineage with an heir of his tribe.
The character makes his entrance in New York on a ghost ship whose crew has been inexplicably killed, a homage to Nosferatu. The vessel is found by harbor official Silas Green (John Witherspoon) and his nephew Julius Jones (the actor), two of the film's funniest characters. Silas then witnesses a black wolf leap from the ship, run into an alley, and morph into a human — like the iconic routine from the longer Black or White video. Groovy Blaxploitation-style music kicks in, setting the tone for a movie that handily balances horror and humor.
Creative Visions
Fresh off his last installment in the iconic horror series, Craven was keen to move beyond his horror reputation and make a more hybrid genre film (his subsequent project after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which exploited scary conventions for both laughs and genuine scares). Meanwhile, Murphy aimed to subvert expectations 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 when the movie hits its stride, it opens up to its assets — like its eclectic cast.
Angela Bassett, as the object of Maximillian’s affection, 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 Black cinema’s most praised performers, she gives a commanding acting alongside her co-star, a well-known actor from the time. Meanwhile, Murphy spends the majority of the film with his comedic partner, creating a hilarious Abbott-and-Costello-style duo as Hardison’s Julius Jones becomes the vampire's minion. (Seeing Julius sink deeper and deeper into his ghoulish role as his skin decays throughout the film is a highlight of how the star's comedic style elevates the humor and fear, even when employed by the cast).
Dark Seduction
When Max and Rita’s paths intertwine and Murphy and Bassett finally share the screen, the film hits its stride — the suspense builds, the scares intensify, and their darkly seductive chemistry becomes the focus. The vampire's scheme is to take away everything Rita has in her life and then intervene. 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 preacher and weaken her faith.
As the plot progresses, it becomes increasingly Gothic, featuring transformations and discoveries of heritage. This leads to a third act filled with seduction, as mortality and damnation are at stake. The film ends with a stinger hinting at a potential sequel, one that could have happened had the film been more successful. Vampire in Brooklyn made a moderate financial success and received largely critical reception upon release. Over time, it found new life as a cult favorite, with critics later applauding the filmmaker's work, the spark between Murphy and Bassett, and its sharp blend 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 producing the tonal hodgepodge audiences received. Still, Vampire in Brooklyn has rightfully earned its place in the history of African American scary movies, an underappreciated but influential entry defined by its daring approach and unforgettable performances.
