Ryan Coogler's recent work may have revitalized the idea of Black vampires, but the roots 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 character is turned by Dracula and burdened with the insulting name “Blacula.” Originally written as a stereotype, the performer transformed the role into something majestic, providing his character an 18th-century backstory as Mamuwalde, a proud African prince.
Decades later, the comedic star appeared to draw a cue from Marshall, deepening his own protagonist's lore in the director's interpretation on the African American horror niche: Vampire in Brooklyn. The protagonist Maximillian is a heir of Dracula whose ancestors escaped to Egypt, and later to the Bermuda Triangle, after being hunted to the brink of extinction. Vampire in Brooklyn demonstrates that tales of African American undead can be humorous, terrifying, and thought-provoking simultaneously, securing its place in the canon by balancing all three while respecting the heritage of the category.
Released 30 years ago on Oct. 27, 1995, Vampire in Brooklyn is now available on Tubi, making it an must-see if you need a dash of humor with your frights this spooky season.
From Zamunda to Brooklyn
Similar to Prince Akeem in Coming to America (Murphy's classic from 1988), the vampire lead is pulled to the Big Apple. But instead of journeying from a fictional kingdom to Queens, he arrives from the Bermuda Triangle into Brooklyn, seeking to find and secure the continuation of his undead bloodline with an heir of his tribe.
The character makes his entrance in New York aboard a phantom vessel whose crew 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. Silas then witnesses a dark creature leap from the ship, dart into an alley, and morph into a human — like Michael Jackson's Panther Dance from the longer Black or White video. Groovy 1970s-inspired soundtrack kicks in, setting the tone for a movie that expertly mixes horror and humor.
Artistic Goals
Recently after his last installment in the Nightmare on Elm Street series, the director was keen to move beyond his horror reputation and create a more blended comedy (his subsequent project after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which mined horror tropes for both comedy and genuine scares). At the same time, Murphy wanted to defy assumptions by diving into a pure scary movie rooted in vampire mythology. The clash of those creative goals explains the story's detailed beginning of Max's origins and its somewhat slow commencement. But once the film hits its stride, it unfolds to its assets — like its eclectic cast.
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 story. Among African American film's most praised performers, Bassett gives a commanding performance alongside her co-star, a well-known actor from the time. Meanwhile, the lead spends the majority of the film with his comedic partner, creating a uproarious Abbott-and-Costello-style duo as Hardison’s Julius Jones becomes Max’s undead lackey. (Watching Julius descend further 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 employed by other actors).
Supernatural Romance
When Max and Rita’s paths intertwine and Murphy and Bassett appear together, the movie hits its stride — the suspense builds, the scares intensify, and their sinister attraction becomes the focus. The vampire's scheme is to remove all Rita has in her life and then swoop in. He murders her roommate, drives a wedge between her and her partner, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque make-up effects to masquerade as a clergyman and undermine her faith.
As the story unfolds, it becomes increasingly Gothic, featuring transformations and revelations of origins. This leads to a final section filled with seduction, as life and eternal punishment are at stake. The movie ends 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 received largely critical reception upon release. Over time, it gained popularity as a cult favorite, with reviewers later applauding Craven’s direction, the electric chemistry Murphy and Bassett, and its clever mix of frights and fun. The film shows 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 spot in the canon of Black horror, an underappreciated but influential entry defined by its daring approach and unforgettable performances.
