Ryan Coogler's recent work may have breathed new life into the idea of African American undead, but the origins of this subgenre date back to the 1970s cultural movement. 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 cursed with the demeaning name “Blacula.” Originally written as a stereotype, Marshall elevated the role into something majestic, providing his figure an historical origin as Mamuwalde, a noble royal from Africa.
Decades later, Eddie Murphy seemed to take inspiration from his predecessor, enriching his own character's mythology in Wes Craven's take on the African American horror niche: Vampire in Brooklyn. Murphy's Maximillian is a heir of Dracula whose forebears escaped to Egypt, and later to the Bermuda Triangle, after being hunted to the edge of annihilation. Vampire in Brooklyn demonstrates that tales of African American undead can be humorous, frightening, and thought-provoking 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 must-see if you want a little comedy with your scares this Halloween.
A Tale of Two Cities
Similar to the royal character in Coming to America (Murphy's 1988 masterpiece), Maximillian is pulled to the Big Apple. But instead of traveling from Zamunda to Queens, he arrives from the mysterious region into Brooklyn, seeking to locate and ensure the continuation of his vampire lineage with an heir of his tribe.
The character makes his entrance in New York on a ghost ship whose crew has been inexplicably killed, a nod to Nosferatu. The ship is discovered by ship inspector Silas Green (the comedian) and his relative Julius Jones (Kadeem Hardison), two of the film's funniest characters. Silas then observes a black wolf leap from the ship, run into an alley, and morph into a human — reminiscent of Michael Jackson's Panther Dance from the longer Black or White video. Funky Blaxploitation-style music starts, setting the mood for a film that handily balances scares and laughs.
Directorial Ambitions
Recently after 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 next film after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which exploited horror tropes for both comedy and real fear). Meanwhile, Murphy aimed to subvert expectations by diving into a pure scary movie rooted in Dracula lore. The clash of those artistic aims explains the story's detailed beginning of Max's origins and its generally sluggish start. But when the film clicks into high gear, it opens up to its strengths — 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), adds a procedural element to the narrative. One of African American film's most acclaimed actresses, Bassett gives a commanding acting alongside Payne, a well-known actor from the time. Meanwhile, the lead spends the majority of the film with his comedic partner, forming a hilarious classic comedy pair as Hardison’s Julius Jones becomes the vampire's minion. (Seeing Julius descend further into his ghoulish role as his skin decays during the movie is a standout moment of how Murphy’s usual bag of tricks elevates the comedy and horror, even when employed by the cast).
Dark Seduction
When the two leads meet and the stars finally share the screen, the movie reaches its peak — the suspense builds, the fear escalates, and their darkly seductive chemistry becomes the focus. Max’s plan is to remove all Rita has in her life and then intervene. He murders her housemate, drives a wedge between her and her partner, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque prosthetics to disguise himself as a clergyman and weaken her beliefs.
As the story progresses, it becomes more darkly romantic, including transformations and revelations of origins. This leads to a third act packed with seduction, as mortality and damnation are at stake. The film ends with a stinger hinting at a possible follow-up, one that might have materialized had the film performed better. Vampire in Brooklyn earned a moderate financial success and got largely critical reception upon release. Over time, it found new life as a beloved classic, with reviewers later praising the filmmaker's work, the spark between the leads, and its clever mix of horror and comedy. The film flashes glimpses of genius that could have been more prominent had everyone involved been aligned on a cohesive approach, rather than producing the tonal hodgepodge viewers saw. Nevertheless, Vampire in Brooklyn has rightfully earned its spot in the canon of Black horror, an overlooked but impactful entry characterized by its daring approach and unforgettable performances.
