Ryan Coogler's latest work may have revitalized the idea of African American undead, but the roots of this cinematic category date back to the Blaxploitation era. Among 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 caricature, Marshall transformed the role into something regal, giving his character an historical origin as Mamuwalde, a proud African prince.
Decades later, the comedic star seemed to take a cue from his predecessor, deepening his own protagonist's lore in the director's interpretation on the Black vampire subgenre: Vampire in Brooklyn. Murphy's Maximillian is a descendant of Dracula whose ancestors fled to Egypt, and later to the Bermuda Triangle, after being hunted to the brink of extinction. Vampire in Brooklyn proves that tales of African American undead can be humorous, frightening, and thought-provoking all at once, earning its place in the hall of fame by balancing all three while honoring the subgenre's legacy.
Released three decades back on October 27th, 1995, Vampire in Brooklyn is currently streaming on Tubi, making it an must-see if you need a dash of humor with your scares this spooky season.
From Zamunda to Brooklyn
Similar to the royal character in Coming to America (the actor's 1988 masterpiece), the vampire lead is pulled to New York City. But rather than traveling from Zamunda to Queens, he arrives from the Bermuda Triangle into Brooklyn, aiming to find and secure the survival of his undead bloodline with an offspring of his tribe.
Maximillian arrives in New York on a phantom vessel whose crew has been inexplicably killed, a nod to Nosferatu. The vessel is found by ship inspector Silas Green (the comedian) and his relative Julius Jones (the actor), two of the most humorous personalities in the movie. The inspector then observes a dark creature jump from the ship, dart into an alley, and morph into a man — reminiscent of the iconic routine from the extended Black or White video. Groovy Blaxploitation-style music kicks in, establishing the tone for a movie that expertly mixes horror and humor.
Creative Visions
Recently after his final entry in the iconic horror series, Craven was eager 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 laughs and genuine scares). At the same time, Murphy wanted to subvert expectations by venturing into a pure scary movie rooted in Dracula lore. The clash of those artistic aims explains the film's exposition-heavy opening of the protagonist's backstory and its generally sluggish start. But once the movie hits its stride, it unfolds to its strengths — like its eclectic cast.
Angela Bassett, as the vampire's love interest, plays police officer Rita Veder, whose relationship with her partner and love interest, detective Justice (the actor), adds a procedural element to the story. One of Black cinema’s most praised actresses, Bassett gives a powerful acting with Payne, a familiar face from the era. Meanwhile, Murphy spends most of his screen time with his comedic partner, forming a hilarious classic comedy pair as the actor's Julius Jones becomes the vampire's minion. (Watching Julius descend further into his macabre part as his appearance deteriorates during the movie is a highlight of how the star's comedic style enhances the humor and fear, even when utilized by the cast).
Gothic Intrigue
When the two leads meet and Murphy and Bassett finally share the screen, the movie hits its stride — the tension heightens, the fear escalates, and their sinister attraction takes center stage. Max’s plan is to take away everything Rita has in her life and then intervene. He kills her housemate, drives a wedge 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 story progresses, it becomes increasingly Gothic, including transformations and revelations of origins. This results in a third act packed with temptation, as mortality and damnation are at stake. The movie concludes with a stinger hinting at a potential sequel, one that might have materialized had the movie performed better. Vampire in Brooklyn made a modest box office return and got largely critical reception upon debut. Over time, it found new life as a beloved classic, with critics later praising Craven’s direction, the spark between the leads, and its clever mix of horror and comedy. The movie shows moments of brilliance that might have shone brighter had everyone involved been aligned on a unified vision, rather than producing the tonal hodgepodge viewers saw. Nevertheless, Vampire in Brooklyn has deservedly secured its place in the canon of African American scary movies, an underappreciated but impactful entry defined by its daring approach and memorable acting.
