The director's latest work may have breathed new life into the concept of African American undead, but the roots of this cinematic category trace back to the Blaxploitation era. One of the most iconic pioneering films was the seminal 1972 movie Blacula. In that motion picture, William Marshall's role is turned by Dracula and cursed with the insulting name “Blacula.” Initially conceived as a stereotype, the performer transformed the role into something majestic, providing his character an historical origin as Mamuwalde, a noble royal from Africa.
Years afterward, the comedic star appeared to draw a cue from Marshall, enriching his own character's mythology in Wes Craven's interpretation on the Black vampire subgenre: 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 demonstrates that tales of African American undead can be humorous, terrifying, and intellectually stimulating all at once, earning its position in the canon by juggling all three while respecting the subgenre's legacy.
Released 30 years ago on Oct. 27, 1995, Vampire in Brooklyn is currently streaming on a popular platform, making it an essential watch if you want a dash of humor with your scares this spooky season.
An Urban Vampire Story
Similar to the royal character in Coming to America (Murphy's 1988 masterpiece), the vampire lead is drawn to New York City. But rather than journeying from Zamunda to Queens, he arrives from the Bermuda Triangle into Brooklyn, seeking to find and secure the survival of his undead bloodline with an offspring of his clan.
The character makes his entrance in New York aboard a ghost ship whose crew has been inexplicably killed, a homage to Nosferatu. The ship is discovered by harbor official Silas Green (John Witherspoon) and his nephew Julius Jones (the actor), two of the most humorous personalities in the movie. The inspector then observes a black wolf jump from the ship, dart into an alley, and morph into a human — reminiscent of the iconic routine from the longer Black or White video. Funky 1970s-inspired soundtrack kicks in, establishing the tone for a movie that expertly mixes scares and laughs.
Creative Visions
Recently after his final entry in the Nightmare on Elm Street series, the director was eager to move beyond his scary movie image and create a more hybrid genre film (his subsequent project after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which exploited horror tropes for both comedy and genuine scares). Meanwhile, the star wanted to subvert expectations by venturing into a pure scary movie 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 once the movie hits its stride, it unfolds to its assets — 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), adds a crime-drama edge to the narrative. Among Black cinema’s most praised performers, she delivers a commanding acting alongside Payne, a familiar face from the time. Meanwhile, 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. (Watching Julius sink deeper and deeper into his ghoulish role as his skin decays throughout the film is a highlight of how Murphy’s usual bag of tricks enhances the comedy and horror, even when utilized by other actors).
Gothic Intrigue
When Max and Rita’s paths intertwine and the stars finally share the screen, the film hits its stride — the tension heightens, the fear escalates, 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 roommate, creates conflict between her and her partner, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque prosthetics to disguise himself as a clergyman and undermine her beliefs.
As the story progresses, it becomes more darkly romantic, featuring transformations and discoveries of heritage. This leads to a final section filled with seduction, as mortality and damnation hang in the balance. The film concludes with a stinger hinting at a potential sequel, one that might have materialized had the film performed better. Vampire in Brooklyn made a moderate financial success and received largely critical reception upon release. As years passed, it gained popularity as a cult favorite, with critics later applauding Craven’s direction, the electric chemistry Murphy and Bassett, and its clever mix of frights and fun. The movie shows glimpses of genius that might have shone brighter had all participants been aligned on a cohesive approach, rather than delivering the tonal hodgepodge viewers saw. Still, Vampire in Brooklyn has deservedly secured its place in the history of Black horror, an underappreciated but impactful film characterized by its bold style and memorable acting.
