The director's recent project may have revitalized the idea of Black vampires, but the origins of this subgenre trace back to the Blaxploitation era. Among the most memorable pioneering films was the seminal 1972 movie Blacula. In that motion picture, William Marshall's character is bitten by Dracula and cursed with the insulting name “Blacula.” Originally written as a caricature, the performer transformed the part into something regal, giving his character an 18th-century backstory as Mamuwalde, a proud African prince.
Decades later, the comedic star appeared to draw inspiration from Marshall, deepening his own protagonist's lore in the director's take on the African American horror niche: Vampire in Brooklyn. The protagonist Maximillian is a heir of Dracula whose forebears fled to Egypt, and later to the Bermuda Triangle, after being hunted to the brink of extinction. Vampire in Brooklyn demonstrates that tales of African American undead can be funny, terrifying, and thought-provoking all at once, securing its place in the hall of fame by juggling all three while respecting the heritage of the category.
Debuted three decades back on October 27th, 1995, Vampire in Brooklyn is now available on a popular platform, making it an essential watch if you need a little comedy with your frights this Halloween.
From Zamunda to Brooklyn
Similar to Prince Akeem in Coming to America (Murphy's 1988 masterpiece), Maximillian is pulled to the Big Apple. But instead of 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.
Maximillian arrives in New York on a ghost ship 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 (Kadeem Hardison), two of the film's funniest characters. Silas then witnesses a black wolf jump 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 kicks in, establishing the mood for a film that expertly mixes horror and humor.
Directorial Ambitions
Fresh off his final entry in the Nightmare on Elm Street series, the director was eager to move beyond his scary movie image and make a more blended comedy (his next film 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 conflict of those creative goals explains the film's exposition-heavy opening of Max's origins and its somewhat slow commencement. But once the movie clicks into high gear, it opens up to its strengths — like its eclectic cast.
The acclaimed actress, as the vampire's love interest, plays police officer Rita Veder, whose relationship with her partner and love interest, detective Justice (Allen Payne), adds a procedural element to the story. Among Black cinema’s most acclaimed actresses, she gives a powerful acting with Payne, a familiar face from the time. In the meantime, the lead spends most of his screen time with his comedic partner, creating a uproarious classic comedy pair as the actor's Julius Jones becomes Max’s undead lackey. (Watching Julius descend further 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 humor and fear, even when employed by the cast).
Dark Seduction
When the two leads meet and Murphy and Bassett finally share the screen, the film hits its stride — the suspense builds, the fear escalates, and their sinister attraction takes center stage. Max’s plan is to remove all Rita has in her life and then intervene. He murders her roommate, creates conflict between her and her love interest, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque make-up effects to disguise himself as a clergyman and weaken her beliefs.
As the plot progresses, it becomes increasingly Gothic, including transformations and revelations of origins. This results in a final section packed with temptation, as mortality and damnation hang in the balance. The film ends with a teaser hinting at a potential sequel, one that might have materialized had the movie performed better. Vampire in Brooklyn earned a modest box office return and got largely critical reception upon release. Over time, it found new life as a cult favorite, with critics later praising Craven’s direction, the electric chemistry the leads, and its sharp blend of frights and fun. The film shows moments of brilliance that could have been more prominent had all participants been in agreement on a cohesive approach, rather than producing the mixed-genre result audiences received. Nevertheless, Vampire in Brooklyn has rightfully earned its spot in the history of African American scary movies, an overlooked but impactful film defined by its bold style and memorable acting.
