The director's latest work may have revitalized the concept of African American undead, but the origins of this subgenre trace back to the Blaxploitation era. Among the most memorable pioneering films was the 1972 classic Blacula. In that film, William Marshall's character is bitten by Dracula and burdened with the insulting name “Blacula.” Initially conceived as a stereotype, the performer transformed the part into something regal, providing his figure an 18th-century backstory as Mamuwalde, a noble royal from Africa.
Decades later, the comedic star seemed to take inspiration from his predecessor, deepening his own protagonist's lore in Wes Craven's interpretation on the Black vampire subgenre: Vampire in Brooklyn. Murphy's Maximillian is a descendant of Dracula whose ancestors fled 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 humorous, frightening, and intellectually stimulating all at once, earning its position in the hall of fame by balancing all three while honoring the heritage of the category.
Debuted three decades back on Oct. 27, 1995, Vampire in Brooklyn is currently streaming on Tubi, making it an must-see if you need a little comedy with your frights this spooky season.
From Zamunda to Brooklyn
Similar to the royal character in Coming to America (Murphy's classic from 1988), the vampire lead is pulled to the Big Apple. But instead of journeying from Zamunda 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.
The character makes his entrance in New York on a phantom vessel whose crew has been inexplicably killed, a homage to Nosferatu. The ship is discovered by harbor official Silas Green (the comedian) and his nephew Julius Jones (the actor), two of the film's funniest characters. Silas then observes a black wolf jump from the ship, dart into an alley, and morph into a man — reminiscent of Michael Jackson's Panther Dance from the extended Black or White video. Groovy 1970s-inspired soundtrack kicks in, establishing the mood for a movie that expertly mixes horror and humor.
Directorial Ambitions
Fresh off his final entry in the Nightmare on Elm Street series, the director was eager to break from his scary movie image and make a more hybrid genre film (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 subvert expectations by diving into a pure scary movie based on Dracula lore. The conflict of those creative goals explains the story's detailed beginning of Max's origins and its somewhat slow commencement. But when the movie hits its stride, it opens up to its assets — like its diverse ensemble.
The acclaimed actress, as the object of Maximillian’s affection, 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 African American film's most praised actresses, she delivers a powerful performance alongside her co-star, a well-known actor from the time. In the meantime, Murphy spends most of his screen time with his comedic partner, creating a hilarious classic comedy pair as the actor's Julius Jones becomes Max’s undead lackey. (Watching Julius sink deeper and deeper into his macabre part as his appearance deteriorates throughout the film is a standout moment of how the star's comedic style enhances the humor and fear, even when utilized by the cast).
Supernatural Romance
When the two leads meet and Murphy and Bassett appear together, the film reaches its peak — the tension heightens, the fear escalates, and their darkly seductive chemistry becomes the focus. The vampire's scheme is to remove all Rita has in her life and then intervene. He kills her roommate, creates conflict between her and her love interest, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque prosthetics to disguise himself as a clergyman and undermine her beliefs.
As the plot progresses, it becomes more darkly romantic, featuring metamorphoses and discoveries of heritage. This leads to a final section filled with temptation, as mortality and damnation are at stake. The film ends with a stinger hinting at a possible follow-up, one that might have materialized had the movie been more successful. Vampire in Brooklyn earned a modest box office return and got mostly negative reviews upon release. As years passed, it found new life as a beloved classic, with reviewers later praising the filmmaker's work, the electric chemistry the leads, and its sharp blend of frights and fun. The film flashes glimpses of genius that might have shone brighter had everyone involved been in agreement on a cohesive approach, rather than delivering the tonal hodgepodge viewers saw. Nevertheless, Vampire in Brooklyn has rightfully earned its spot in the history of African American scary movies, an overlooked but impactful film defined by its bold style and unforgettable performances.
