Ryan Coogler's latest project may have revitalized the idea of African American undead, but the origins of this subgenre trace back to the Blaxploitation era. Among the most memorable pioneering films was the seminal 1972 movie Blacula. In that film, the actor's role is turned by Dracula and cursed with the insulting name “Blacula.” Initially conceived as a caricature, the performer transformed the role into something regal, providing his figure an 18th-century backstory as Mamuwalde, a proud African prince.
Decades later, the comedic star seemed to take a cue from his predecessor, enriching his own character's mythology in Wes Craven's interpretation on the Black vampire subgenre: Vampire in Brooklyn. Murphy's Maximillian is a heir 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 tales of African American undead can be funny, frightening, and intellectually stimulating simultaneously, securing its place in the canon by balancing all three while honoring the heritage of the category.
Released three decades back on Oct. 27, 1995, Vampire in Brooklyn is now available on a popular platform, making it an must-see if you want a little comedy with your scares this spooky season.
From Zamunda to Brooklyn
Similar to 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 Zamunda to Queens, he arrives from the mysterious region into Brooklyn, aiming to find and secure the continuation of his undead bloodline with an offspring of his clan.
Maximillian arrives in New York on a phantom vessel whose sailors has been mysteriously slaughtered, a homage to Nosferatu. The vessel is discovered by harbor official Silas Green (the comedian) and his relative Julius Jones (Kadeem Hardison), two of the most humorous personalities in the movie. The inspector then observes a black wolf jump from the ship, run into an alley, and morph into a man — reminiscent of the iconic routine from the extended Black or White video. Groovy 1970s-inspired soundtrack kicks in, setting the tone for a film that handily balances scares and laughs.
Creative Visions
Fresh off his final entry in the Nightmare on Elm Street series, the director was keen to move beyond his scary movie image and make a more hybrid genre film (his subsequent project after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which mined scary conventions for both comedy and real fear). At the same time, Murphy aimed to subvert expectations by venturing into a straight horror based on Dracula lore. The conflict of those creative goals explains the film's exposition-heavy opening of Max's origins and its somewhat slow commencement. But when the movie clicks into high gear, it unfolds to its strengths — like its diverse ensemble.
Angela Bassett, as the vampire's love interest, plays detective Rita Veder, whose relationship with her partner and love interest, detective Justice (Allen Payne), adds a crime-drama edge to the narrative. One of African American film's most acclaimed actresses, Bassett delivers 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 descend further into his macabre part as his appearance deteriorates during the movie is a standout moment of how Murphy’s usual bag of tricks enhances the humor and fear, even when utilized by other actors).
Gothic Intrigue
When Max and Rita’s paths intertwine and the stars finally share the screen, the movie reaches its peak — the tension heightens, 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 swoop in. He murders her housemate, drives a wedge between her and her love interest, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque prosthetics to disguise himself as a clergyman and weaken her beliefs.
As the plot progresses, it becomes more darkly romantic, featuring metamorphoses and revelations of origins. This leads to a third act packed with temptation, as mortality and damnation are at stake. The film concludes with a teaser 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 got mostly negative reviews upon release. Over time, it gained popularity as a beloved classic, with critics later praising Craven’s direction, the spark between the leads, and its clever mix of frights and fun. The movie shows moments of brilliance that might have shone brighter had all participants been aligned on a cohesive approach, rather than delivering the mixed-genre result viewers saw. Still, Vampire in Brooklyn has deservedly secured its spot in the history of Black horror, an underappreciated but impactful entry defined by its bold style and unforgettable performances.
