Ryan Coogler's recent work may have breathed new life into the concept of African American undead, but the roots of this subgenre trace back to the Blaxploitation era. One of the most memorable pioneering films was the 1972 classic Blacula. In that motion picture, William Marshall's character is turned by Dracula and cursed with the insulting name “Blacula.” Initially conceived as a stereotype, Marshall transformed the role into something regal, providing his character an historical origin as Mamuwalde, a noble royal from Africa.
Years afterward, Eddie Murphy appeared to draw a cue from his predecessor, deepening his own character's mythology in Wes Craven's take on the Black vampire subgenre: Vampire in Brooklyn. Murphy's Maximillian is a heir of Dracula whose forebears fled to Egypt, and later to the Bermuda Triangle, after being hunted to the edge of annihilation. Vampire in Brooklyn demonstrates that Black vampire stories can be funny, frightening, and intellectually stimulating all at once, earning its position in the hall of fame by balancing all three while respecting the heritage of the category.
Debuted three decades back on Oct. 27, 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 Halloween.
A Tale of Two Cities
Like the royal character in Coming to America (Murphy's 1988 masterpiece), Maximillian is pulled to New York City. But instead of traveling from Zamunda to Queens, he arrives from the Bermuda Triangle into Brooklyn, aiming to find and secure the continuation of his undead bloodline with an offspring of his clan.
Maximillian arrives in New York aboard a ghost ship whose crew has been mysteriously slaughtered, a nod to Nosferatu. The vessel is found by harbor official Silas Green (the comedian) and his relative Julius Jones (the actor), two of the most humorous personalities in the movie. The inspector then witnesses a dark creature leap from the ship, dart into an alley, and morph into a human — reminiscent of the iconic routine from the longer Black or White video. Groovy 1970s-inspired soundtrack starts, setting the tone for a film that expertly mixes scares and laughs.
Directorial Ambitions
Recently after his final entry in the iconic horror series, Craven was eager to move beyond his horror reputation and make a more blended comedy (his subsequent project after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which exploited scary conventions for both comedy and real fear). At the same time, Murphy aimed to defy assumptions by venturing into a straight horror rooted in Dracula lore. The conflict of those creative goals explains the story's detailed beginning of Max's origins and its generally sluggish start. But when the film clicks into high gear, it opens up to its strengths — like its diverse ensemble.
Angela Bassett, as the vampire's love interest, plays police officer Rita Veder, whose dynamic with her colleague and romantic lead, detective Justice (the actor), adds a crime-drama edge to the narrative. Among African American film's most praised performers, Bassett gives a commanding acting alongside Payne, a familiar face from the era. 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 Max’s undead lackey. (Seeing Julius sink deeper and deeper into his macabre part as his appearance deteriorates throughout the film is a highlight of how the star's comedic style elevates the comedy and horror, even when employed by the cast).
Supernatural Romance
When Max and Rita’s paths intertwine and Murphy and Bassett appear together, the film hits its stride — the tension heightens, the fear escalates, and their sinister attraction becomes the focus. Max’s plan is to take away all Rita has in her life and then intervene. He kills 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 faith.
As the plot unfolds, it becomes increasingly Gothic, including transformations and revelations of origins. This leads to a third act filled with temptation, as life and eternal punishment are at stake. The movie ends with a stinger suggesting a potential sequel, one that might have materialized had the film performed better. Vampire in Brooklyn earned a modest box office return and got largely critical reception upon release. As years passed, it gained popularity as a cult favorite, with reviewers later applauding the filmmaker's work, the spark between Murphy and Bassett, and its clever mix of frights and fun. The film flashes 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. Still, Vampire in Brooklyn has rightfully earned its spot in the history of African American scary movies, an underappreciated but impactful entry defined by its daring approach and memorable acting.
