The director's latest project may have revitalized the concept of African American undead, but the origins of this subgenre trace 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 burdened with the demeaning name “Blacula.” Initially conceived as a stereotype, Marshall transformed the part into something regal, providing his character an 18th-century backstory as Mamuwalde, a noble royal from Africa.
Decades later, the comedic star appeared to draw inspiration from his predecessor, enriching his own protagonist's lore in Wes Craven's interpretation on the African American horror niche: Vampire in Brooklyn. The protagonist Maximillian is a heir of Dracula whose ancestors fled to Egypt, and later to the Bermuda Triangle, after being persecuted to the edge of annihilation. Vampire in Brooklyn proves that Black vampire stories can be funny, frightening, and thought-provoking simultaneously, securing its place in the hall of fame by balancing all three while honoring the subgenre's legacy.
Released 30 years ago on Oct. 27, 1995, Vampire in Brooklyn is now available on a popular platform, making it an must-see if you want a little comedy with your frights this spooky season.
From Zamunda to Brooklyn
Similar to Prince Akeem in Coming to America (Murphy's classic from 1988), Maximillian is pulled to the Big Apple. But rather than 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 offspring of his tribe.
The character makes his entrance in New York aboard a phantom vessel whose crew has been inexplicably killed, a nod to Nosferatu. The vessel is found by harbor official Silas Green (the comedian) and his nephew Julius Jones (Kadeem Hardison), two of the most humorous personalities in the movie. Silas then witnesses a dark creature leap from the ship, dart into an alley, and morph into a human — like the iconic routine from the extended Black or White video. Groovy Blaxploitation-style music starts, setting the mood for a film that expertly mixes scares and laughs.
Creative Visions
Recently after his last installment in the iconic horror series, Craven was eager to break from his scary movie image and make a more blended comedy (his subsequent project after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which mined horror tropes for both comedy and genuine scares). Meanwhile, the star wanted to defy assumptions by diving into a pure scary movie based on Dracula lore. 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 film clicks into high gear, it opens up 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 (Allen Payne), brings a procedural element to the narrative. One of Black cinema’s most praised actresses, she gives a powerful acting alongside Payne, a well-known actor from the time. In the meantime, Murphy spends most of his screen time with his comedic partner, creating a hilarious classic comedy pair as Hardison’s Julius Jones becomes Max’s undead lackey. (Watching Julius descend further into his macabre part as his appearance deteriorates throughout the film is a highlight of how Murphy’s usual bag of tricks elevates the comedy and horror, even when employed by other actors).
Gothic Intrigue
When the two leads meet and Murphy and Bassett finally share the screen, the movie reaches its peak — the tension heightens, the scares intensify, and their darkly seductive chemistry becomes the focus. The vampire's scheme is to take away everything Rita has in her life and then intervene. He kills her housemate, creates conflict between her and her partner, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque prosthetics to disguise himself as a preacher and weaken her beliefs.
As the plot progresses, it becomes more darkly romantic, featuring transformations and revelations of origins. This leads to a final section packed with temptation, as life and eternal punishment hang in the balance. The film ends with a stinger suggesting a potential sequel, one that might have materialized had the film been more successful. Vampire in Brooklyn made a modest box office return and got mostly negative reviews upon debut. Over time, it found new life as a beloved classic, with critics later applauding Craven’s direction, the electric chemistry Murphy and Bassett, and its clever mix of horror and comedy. The movie flashes glimpses of genius that might have shone brighter had all participants been aligned on a unified vision, rather than producing the tonal hodgepodge viewers saw. Still, Vampire in Brooklyn has deservedly secured its place in the canon of Black horror, an overlooked but influential entry characterized by its daring approach and memorable acting.
