The director's latest project may have breathed new life into the idea of African American undead, but the roots of this cinematic category date back to the Blaxploitation era. One of the most memorable early examples was the seminal 1972 movie Blacula. In that film, the actor's role is bitten by Dracula and burdened with the insulting name “Blacula.” Originally written as a stereotype, Marshall elevated 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 inspiration from Marshall, deepening his own protagonist's lore in the director's take on the Black vampire subgenre: Vampire in Brooklyn. Murphy's Maximillian is a descendant of Dracula whose ancestors escaped to Egypt, and later to the Bermuda Triangle, after being persecuted to the edge of annihilation. Vampire in Brooklyn demonstrates that tales of African American undead can be humorous, frightening, and intellectually stimulating simultaneously, securing its place in the hall of fame by balancing all three while honoring the heritage of the category.
Released 30 years ago on October 27th, 1995, Vampire in Brooklyn is now available on Tubi, making it an essential watch if you need a little comedy with your scares this spooky season.
A Tale of Two Cities
Similar to the royal character in Coming to America (Murphy's classic from 1988), the vampire lead is drawn to New York City. But rather than journeying from Zamunda to Queens, he emerges from the mysterious region into Brooklyn, aiming to locate and ensure the survival of his undead bloodline with an heir of his clan.
The character makes his entrance in New York on a ghost ship whose sailors has been inexplicably killed, a homage to Nosferatu. The vessel is found 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 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 extended Black or White video. Groovy 1970s-inspired soundtrack starts, setting the tone for a film that expertly mixes scares and laughs.
Creative Visions
Fresh off his final entry in the iconic horror series, the director was eager to move beyond his horror reputation and make a more blended comedy (his subsequent project after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which exploited horror tropes for both laughs and real fear). At the same time, Murphy wanted to defy assumptions by venturing into a straight horror based on vampire mythology. The clash of those creative goals accounts for the film's exposition-heavy opening of Max's origins and its somewhat slow commencement. But when the film clicks into high gear, it opens up to its assets — like its eclectic cast.
The acclaimed actress, as the object of Maximillian’s affection, plays police officer Rita Veder, whose relationship with her partner and love interest, detective Justice (Allen Payne), brings a procedural element to the story. Among African American film's most praised performers, Bassett delivers a powerful performance with Payne, a well-known actor from the time. In the meantime, Murphy spends the majority of the film with his comedic partner, forming a uproarious Abbott-and-Costello-style duo as Hardison’s Julius Jones becomes Max’s undead lackey. (Seeing Julius descend further into his ghoulish role as his appearance deteriorates throughout the film is a highlight of how the star's comedic style elevates 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 film hits its stride — the tension heightens, the scares intensify, and their darkly seductive chemistry takes center stage. Max’s plan is to remove everything Rita has in her life and then swoop in. He murders her roommate, drives a wedge in between her and her love interest, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque prosthetics to disguise himself as a preacher and weaken her beliefs.
As the story unfolds, it becomes more darkly romantic, featuring metamorphoses and revelations of origins. This results in a third act packed with temptation, as mortality and damnation are at stake. The movie ends with a stinger suggesting a possible follow-up, one that could have happened had the movie performed better. Vampire in Brooklyn made a moderate financial success and got largely critical reception upon debut. Over time, it gained popularity as a beloved classic, with critics later praising Craven’s direction, the electric chemistry Murphy and Bassett, and its clever mix of frights and fun. The movie flashes glimpses of genius that could have been more prominent had all participants been aligned on a cohesive approach, rather than producing the mixed-genre result 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 unforgettable performances.
