Ryan Coogler's recent work may have revitalized the idea of African American undead, but the origins of this cinematic category trace back to the Blaxploitation era. Among the most memorable pioneering films was the 1972 classic Blacula. In that motion picture, William Marshall's role is turned by Dracula and burdened with the insulting name “Blacula.” Originally written as a stereotype, Marshall elevated the part into something regal, providing his figure an historical origin as Mamuwalde, a proud African prince.
Decades later, Eddie Murphy appeared to draw inspiration from his predecessor, deepening his own character's mythology in the director's interpretation on the Black vampire subgenre: Vampire in Brooklyn. The protagonist Maximillian is a descendant of Dracula whose ancestors fled 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 humorous, terrifying, and intellectually stimulating all at once, securing its position in the canon by juggling all three while respecting the heritage of the category.
Released three decades back on Oct. 27, 1995, Vampire in Brooklyn is now available on Tubi, making it an must-see if you want a dash of humor with your scares this Halloween.
A Tale of Two Cities
Similar to the royal character in Coming to America (Murphy's classic from 1988), Maximillian is pulled to the Big Apple. But rather than traveling from a fictional kingdom to Queens, he emerges from the Bermuda Triangle into Brooklyn, seeking to find and secure the continuation of his vampire lineage with an heir of his clan.
Maximillian arrives in New York on a ghost ship whose sailors has been inexplicably killed, a homage to Nosferatu. The vessel is found by harbor official Silas Green (the comedian) and his relative Julius Jones (Kadeem Hardison), two of the most humorous personalities in the movie. Silas then observes a black wolf leap from the ship, run into an alley, and transform into a human — reminiscent of Michael Jackson's Panther Dance from the longer Black or White video. Groovy Blaxploitation-style music kicks in, setting the mood for a movie that handily balances scares and laughs.
Creative Visions
Fresh off his final entry in the iconic horror series, the director was keen to break from his scary movie image and make a more hybrid genre film (his subsequent project after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which mined horror tropes for both comedy and genuine scares). Meanwhile, the star wanted to defy assumptions by venturing into a pure scary movie based on Dracula lore. The clash of those artistic aims accounts for the story's detailed beginning of Max's origins and its generally sluggish start. But when the movie hits its stride, it opens up to its strengths — like its eclectic cast.
The acclaimed actress, as the vampire's love interest, plays police officer Rita Veder, whose dynamic with her colleague and romantic lead, detective Justice (Allen Payne), adds a crime-drama edge to the narrative. Among African American film's most praised actresses, she gives a powerful performance alongside her co-star, a well-known actor from the era. In the meantime, the lead spends most of his screen time with his comedic partner, forming a uproarious classic comedy pair as the actor's Julius Jones becomes Max’s undead lackey. (Seeing Julius descend further into his macabre part as his skin decays during the movie is a standout moment of how Murphy’s usual bag of tricks elevates the comedy and horror, even when employed by other actors).
Dark Seduction
When the two leads meet and Murphy and Bassett finally share the screen, the film hits its stride — the suspense builds, the fear escalates, and their darkly seductive chemistry becomes the focus. The vampire's scheme is to remove everything Rita has in her life and then swoop in. He murders her roommate, drives a wedge in between her and her partner, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque prosthetics to disguise himself as a preacher and undermine her faith.
As the plot progresses, it becomes increasingly Gothic, including metamorphoses and discoveries of heritage. This leads to a third act packed with temptation, as life and eternal punishment hang in the balance. The film concludes with a stinger suggesting a possible follow-up, one that might have materialized had the film been more successful. Vampire in Brooklyn earned a moderate financial success and got largely critical reception upon release. As years passed, it found new life as a cult favorite, with critics later applauding Craven’s direction, the electric chemistry the leads, and its clever mix of horror and comedy. The movie flashes glimpses of genius that might have shone brighter had all participants been aligned on a cohesive approach, rather than producing the mixed-genre result viewers saw. Nevertheless, Vampire in Brooklyn has rightfully earned its place in the history of African American scary movies, an overlooked but impactful entry characterized by its bold style and unforgettable performances.
