The director's recent work may have revitalized the idea of African American undead, but the roots of this subgenre trace back to the Blaxploitation era. One of the most memorable early examples was the 1972 classic Blacula. In that film, William Marshall's role is bitten by Dracula and burdened with the demeaning name “Blacula.” Originally written as a stereotype, the performer transformed the role into something majestic, providing his figure an historical origin as Mamuwalde, a noble royal from Africa.
Years afterward, Eddie Murphy seemed to take inspiration from Marshall, enriching his own protagonist's lore in Wes Craven's take on the African American horror niche: Vampire in Brooklyn. Murphy's Maximillian is a heir of Dracula whose forebears fled to Egypt, and later to the Bermuda Triangle, after being persecuted to the brink of extinction. Vampire in Brooklyn proves that tales of African American undead can be funny, terrifying, and thought-provoking all at once, earning its place in the canon by balancing all three while respecting the heritage of the category.
Debuted 30 years ago 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 scares this Halloween.
From Zamunda to Brooklyn
Similar to the royal character in Coming to America (Murphy's 1988 masterpiece), Maximillian is pulled to New York City. But instead of traveling from Zamunda to Queens, he emerges from the Bermuda Triangle into Brooklyn, aiming to find and secure the survival of his vampire lineage with an offspring of his clan.
Maximillian arrives in New York aboard a ghost ship whose sailors has been inexplicably killed, a homage to Nosferatu. The ship is found by harbor official Silas Green (John Witherspoon) and his nephew Julius Jones (the actor), two of the film's funniest characters. The inspector then observes a black wolf leap from the ship, run into an alley, and morph into a man — reminiscent of the iconic routine from the extended Black or White video. Funky Blaxploitation-style music starts, establishing the tone for a film that handily balances scares and laughs.
Directorial Ambitions
Recently after his final entry in the iconic horror series, Craven was eager to break from his horror reputation and create a more blended comedy (his subsequent project after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which mined scary conventions for both laughs and real fear). At the same time, the star aimed to subvert expectations by diving into a pure scary movie rooted in 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 when the film hits its stride, it opens up to its assets — like its diverse ensemble.
Angela Bassett, as the vampire's love interest, plays police officer Rita Veder, whose dynamic with her colleague and romantic lead, detective Justice (the actor), brings a procedural element to the narrative. One of African American film's most praised actresses, Bassett delivers a commanding performance alongside Payne, a familiar face from the time. Meanwhile, Murphy spends most of his screen time with his comedic partner, creating a uproarious classic comedy pair as the actor's Julius Jones becomes the vampire's minion. (Seeing Julius sink deeper and deeper into his ghoulish role as his appearance deteriorates during the movie 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 film reaches its peak — the tension heightens, the fear escalates, and their darkly seductive chemistry takes center stage. Max’s plan is to remove everything Rita has in her life and then intervene. He murders her roommate, creates conflict in between her and her partner, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque make-up effects to masquerade as a clergyman and weaken her faith.
As the plot progresses, it becomes more darkly romantic, featuring transformations and discoveries of heritage. This leads to a third act packed with seduction, as mortality and damnation hang in the balance. The film concludes with a teaser hinting at a potential sequel, one that could have happened had the movie been more successful. Vampire in Brooklyn earned a moderate financial success and got largely critical reception upon debut. Over time, it found new life as a cult favorite, with reviewers later applauding Craven’s direction, the electric chemistry Murphy and Bassett, and its sharp blend of horror and comedy. The movie shows glimpses of genius that might have shone brighter had all participants been aligned on a unified vision, rather than delivering the tonal hodgepodge audiences received. Nevertheless, Vampire in Brooklyn has rightfully earned its spot in the canon of Black horror, an underappreciated but impactful entry defined by its bold style and memorable acting.
