The director's recent project may have breathed new life into the idea of African American undead, but the origins of this subgenre trace back to the 1970s cultural movement. Among the most memorable pioneering films was the 1972 classic Blacula. In that film, the actor's role is bitten by Dracula and cursed with the demeaning name “Blacula.” Originally written as a stereotype, Marshall transformed the part into something regal, providing his figure an 18th-century backstory as Mamuwalde, a proud African prince.
Years afterward, the comedic star seemed to take a cue from his predecessor, deepening his own character's mythology in Wes Craven's interpretation on the Black vampire subgenre: Vampire in Brooklyn. Murphy's Maximillian is a descendant of Dracula whose forebears fled to Egypt, and later to the Bermuda Triangle, after being persecuted to the brink of extinction. Vampire in Brooklyn demonstrates that tales of African American undead can be funny, terrifying, and intellectually stimulating simultaneously, earning 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 essential watch if you need a dash of humor with your frights this Halloween.
A Tale of Two Cities
Similar to the royal character in Coming to America (the actor's classic from 1988), the vampire lead is drawn to New York City. But rather than traveling from Zamunda to Queens, he arrives 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 ghost ship whose crew has been mysteriously slaughtered, a nod to Nosferatu. The ship is found by harbor official Silas Green (the comedian) and his nephew 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, setting the tone for a movie that handily balances horror and humor.
Directorial Ambitions
Fresh off his last installment in the iconic horror series, the director was eager 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 comedy and real fear). Meanwhile, the star aimed to subvert expectations by diving into a pure scary movie rooted in 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 film hits its stride, it opens up to its assets — like its diverse ensemble.
Angela Bassett, 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 narrative. Among African American film's most acclaimed actresses, she gives a powerful performance with Payne, a familiar face from the time. Meanwhile, Murphy spends most of his screen time with Kadeem Hardison, forming a uproarious Abbott-and-Costello-style duo as Hardison’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 Murphy’s usual bag of tricks enhances the comedy and horror, even when utilized by the cast).
Gothic Intrigue
When the two leads meet and Murphy and Bassett finally share the screen, the movie hits its stride — the tension heightens, the fear escalates, and their sinister attraction becomes the focus. The vampire's scheme is to remove everything Rita has in her life and then intervene. He kills her housemate, drives a wedge in between her and her love interest, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque prosthetics to masquerade as a preacher and weaken her beliefs.
As the plot unfolds, it becomes increasingly Gothic, including transformations and discoveries of heritage. This leads to a final section packed with temptation, as mortality and damnation hang in the balance. The film concludes with a stinger hinting at a possible follow-up, one that could have happened had the movie been more successful. Vampire in Brooklyn made a moderate financial success and got largely critical reception upon debut. As years passed, it found new life as a cult favorite, with critics later applauding Craven’s direction, the electric chemistry Murphy and Bassett, and its clever mix of frights and fun. The movie flashes moments of brilliance that might have shone brighter had all participants been in agreement on a unified vision, rather than producing the tonal hodgepodge audiences received. Still, Vampire in Brooklyn has rightfully earned its spot in the canon of African American scary movies, an overlooked but impactful entry characterized by its bold style and memorable acting.
