The director's recent work may have revitalized the concept of African American undead, but the roots of this cinematic category trace back to the 1970s cultural movement. One of the most iconic pioneering films was the seminal 1972 movie Blacula. In that motion picture, William Marshall's role is turned by Dracula and burdened with the demeaning name “Blacula.” Originally written as a caricature, Marshall transformed the role into something majestic, giving his character an historical origin as Mamuwalde, a proud African prince.
Years afterward, Eddie Murphy seemed to take a cue from Marshall, deepening his own protagonist's lore in the director's interpretation on the African American horror niche: Vampire in Brooklyn. Murphy's Maximillian is a descendant of Dracula whose forebears escaped to Egypt, and later to the Bermuda Triangle, after being persecuted to the brink of extinction. Vampire in Brooklyn proves that Black vampire stories can be humorous, terrifying, and thought-provoking all at once, earning its position in the canon by balancing all three while respecting the subgenre's legacy.
Debuted 30 years ago on Oct. 27, 1995, Vampire in Brooklyn is now available on Tubi, making it an essential watch if you want a little comedy with your scares this spooky season.
A Tale of Two Cities
Like the royal character in Coming to America (Murphy's classic from 1988), Maximillian is pulled to the Big Apple. But rather than traveling from Zamunda to Queens, he emerges from the Bermuda Triangle into Brooklyn, seeking to locate and ensure the continuation of his undead bloodline with an heir of his tribe.
The character makes his entrance in New York on a phantom vessel whose sailors has been mysteriously slaughtered, a homage to Nosferatu. The ship is discovered by ship inspector 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 transform into a man — like Michael Jackson's Panther Dance from the longer Black or White video. Groovy 1970s-inspired soundtrack starts, establishing the mood for a film that handily balances scares and laughs.
Artistic Goals
Fresh off his final entry in the Nightmare on Elm Street series, Craven was keen to break from his horror reputation and create a more blended comedy (his subsequent project after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which exploited horror tropes for both laughs and genuine scares). Meanwhile, the star wanted to defy assumptions by diving into a pure scary movie based on 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 once the film clicks into high gear, it opens up to its assets — like its eclectic cast.
Angela Bassett, as the vampire's love interest, plays detective Rita Veder, whose dynamic with her colleague and romantic lead, detective Justice (Allen Payne), brings a procedural element to the story. Among African American film's most praised actresses, she gives a commanding acting with Payne, a familiar face from the time. In the meantime, the lead spends most of his screen time with his comedic partner, forming a hilarious Abbott-and-Costello-style duo as Hardison’s Julius Jones becomes the vampire's minion. (Watching Julius sink deeper and deeper into his macabre part as his skin decays during the movie is a highlight of how Murphy’s usual bag of tricks elevates the humor and fear, even when utilized by the cast).
Supernatural Romance
When the two leads meet and the stars appear together, the film reaches its peak — the tension heightens, the fear escalates, and their darkly seductive chemistry takes center stage. The vampire's scheme is to remove all Rita has in her life and then intervene. He murders her housemate, drives a wedge between her and her partner, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque prosthetics to masquerade as a clergyman and weaken her faith.
As the plot unfolds, it becomes increasingly Gothic, including transformations and revelations of origins. This results in a final section packed with seduction, as mortality and damnation hang in the balance. The film concludes with a stinger suggesting a potential sequel, one that could have happened had the film performed better. Vampire in Brooklyn earned a modest box office return and got mostly negative reviews upon release. Over time, it gained popularity as a cult favorite, with critics later praising Craven’s direction, the electric chemistry Murphy and Bassett, and its clever mix of horror and comedy. The film shows moments of brilliance that might have shone brighter had everyone involved been in agreement on a unified vision, rather than delivering the mixed-genre result viewers saw. Nevertheless, Vampire in Brooklyn has deservedly secured its place in the canon of Black horror, an overlooked but influential film characterized by its bold style and memorable acting.
