The director's latest project may have breathed new life into the concept of Black vampires, but the origins of this subgenre trace back to the Blaxploitation era. One of the most memorable pioneering films was the seminal 1972 movie Blacula. In that motion picture, the actor's character is bitten by Dracula and cursed with the demeaning name “Blacula.” Initially conceived as a caricature, Marshall transformed the role into something majestic, providing his figure an historical origin as Mamuwalde, a proud African prince.
Years afterward, the comedic star seemed to take inspiration from Marshall, deepening his own character's mythology in Wes Craven's interpretation on the African American horror niche: Vampire in Brooklyn. Murphy's Maximillian is a heir of Dracula whose ancestors escaped to Egypt, and later to the Bermuda Triangle, after being hunted to the edge of annihilation. Vampire in Brooklyn proves that Black vampire stories can be humorous, frightening, and thought-provoking all at once, earning its place in the canon by juggling all three while respecting the subgenre's legacy.
Released three decades back on October 27th, 1995, Vampire in Brooklyn is currently streaming on a popular platform, making it an must-see if you want a little comedy with your scares this spooky season.
An Urban Vampire Story
Like Prince Akeem in Coming to America (Murphy's classic from 1988), the vampire lead is pulled to the Big Apple. But rather than journeying from a fictional kingdom to Queens, he arrives from the mysterious region into Brooklyn, seeking to find and secure the continuation of his undead bloodline with an heir of his tribe.
Maximillian arrives in New York aboard a phantom vessel whose crew has been inexplicably killed, a homage to Nosferatu. The vessel is discovered by harbor official Silas Green (the comedian) and his relative Julius Jones (the actor), two of the film's funniest characters. Silas then observes a dark creature leap from the ship, dart into an alley, and transform 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 movie that handily balances scares and laughs.
Directorial Ambitions
Fresh off his final entry in the iconic horror series, the director was eager to move beyond his horror reputation and make a more hybrid genre film (his subsequent project after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which exploited horror tropes for both laughs and genuine scares). At the same time, Murphy aimed to subvert expectations by venturing into a straight horror rooted in vampire mythology. The clash of those artistic aims 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 strengths — like its diverse ensemble.
The acclaimed actress, as the vampire's love interest, plays police officer Rita Veder, whose relationship with her colleague and romantic lead, detective Justice (Allen Payne), brings a procedural element to the story. One of African American film's most acclaimed performers, she gives a commanding performance alongside her co-star, a familiar face from the time. In the meantime, the lead spends most of his screen time with his comedic partner, forming a uproarious classic comedy pair as the actor's Julius Jones becomes the vampire's minion. (Seeing Julius sink deeper and deeper into his macabre part as his skin decays throughout the film is a highlight of how Murphy’s usual bag of tricks elevates the humor and fear, even when employed by the cast).
Supernatural Romance
When the two leads meet and Murphy and Bassett finally share the screen, the film reaches its peak — 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 kills her housemate, drives a wedge between her and her partner, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque make-up effects to masquerade as a preacher and weaken her beliefs.
As the plot unfolds, it becomes increasingly Gothic, featuring metamorphoses and revelations of origins. This leads to a third act packed with seduction, as mortality and damnation are at stake. The film concludes with a teaser hinting at a potential sequel, one that could have happened had the film been more successful. Vampire in Brooklyn earned a modest box office return and got mostly negative reviews upon debut. Over time, it gained popularity as a cult favorite, with critics later praising Craven’s direction, the electric chemistry Murphy and Bassett, and its sharp blend of frights and fun. The film shows moments of brilliance that could have been more prominent had everyone involved been aligned on a unified vision, rather than delivering the mixed-genre result viewers saw. Nevertheless, Vampire in Brooklyn has deservedly secured its place in the canon of African American scary movies, an underappreciated but influential entry defined by its daring approach and memorable acting.
