The director's recent work may have breathed new life into the concept of African American undead, but the origins of this cinematic category trace back to the 1970s cultural movement. Among the most iconic pioneering films was the 1972 classic Blacula. In that film, William Marshall's role is turned by Dracula and cursed with the demeaning name “Blacula.” Initially conceived as a stereotype, Marshall elevated the part into something majestic, providing his character an 18th-century backstory as Mamuwalde, a proud African prince.
Years afterward, the comedic star seemed to take inspiration from his predecessor, enriching his own character's mythology in the director's interpretation on the African American horror niche: 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 edge of annihilation. Vampire in Brooklyn proves that Black vampire stories can be funny, frightening, and intellectually stimulating simultaneously, earning its place in the hall of fame by juggling all three while respecting the heritage of the category.
Debuted 30 years ago on Oct. 27, 1995, Vampire in Brooklyn is now available on a popular platform, making it an must-see if you need a little comedy with your frights this Halloween.
A Tale of Two Cities
Similar to the royal character in Coming to America (Murphy's classic from 1988), the vampire lead is pulled to the Big Apple. But instead of journeying from Zamunda to Queens, he arrives from the mysterious region into Brooklyn, seeking to find and secure the continuation of his vampire lineage with an offspring of his tribe.
Maximillian arrives in New York aboard a phantom vessel whose crew has been mysteriously slaughtered, a homage to Nosferatu. The vessel is discovered by ship inspector Silas Green (the comedian) and his nephew Julius Jones (the actor), two of the film's funniest characters. The inspector then witnesses a black wolf jump from the ship, dart into an alley, and morph into a man — like Michael Jackson's Panther Dance from the longer Black or White video. Groovy 1970s-inspired soundtrack starts, establishing the mood for a film that expertly mixes scares and laughs.
Directorial Ambitions
Fresh off his last installment in the Nightmare on Elm Street series, the director was eager to break from his scary movie image and make a more hybrid genre film (his subsequent project after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which mined horror tropes for both comedy and genuine scares). At the same time, the star aimed to subvert expectations by venturing into a straight horror based on Dracula lore. The clash of those artistic aims explains the story's detailed beginning of the protagonist's backstory and its generally sluggish start. But when 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 detective Rita Veder, whose dynamic with her partner and love interest, detective Justice (the actor), brings a procedural element to the story. One of Black cinema’s most acclaimed actresses, she delivers a commanding acting with her co-star, a familiar face from the era. In the meantime, the lead spends the majority of the film with his comedic partner, creating a uproarious 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 enhances the comedy and horror, even when utilized by the cast).
Gothic Intrigue
When the two leads meet and the stars appear together, the film hits its stride — the suspense builds, the fear escalates, and their darkly seductive chemistry takes center stage. Max’s plan is to take away all Rita has in her life and then swoop in. He kills her roommate, creates conflict between her and her partner, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque make-up effects to masquerade as a clergyman and weaken her beliefs.
As the plot progresses, it becomes more darkly romantic, featuring metamorphoses and discoveries of heritage. This results in a third act filled with seduction, as mortality and damnation are at stake. The film concludes with a stinger hinting at a potential sequel, one that might have materialized had the film performed better. Vampire in Brooklyn earned a moderate financial success and got mostly negative reviews upon release. As years passed, it found new life as a beloved classic, with critics later praising Craven’s direction, the spark between Murphy and Bassett, and its sharp blend of frights and fun. The film shows glimpses of genius that could have been more prominent had all participants been in agreement on a unified vision, rather than delivering the mixed-genre result viewers saw. Still, Vampire in Brooklyn has rightfully earned its spot in the canon of Black horror, an overlooked but influential entry defined by its bold style and memorable acting.
