The director's latest project may have revitalized the idea of African American undead, but the origins of this subgenre date back to the 1970s cultural movement. Among the most memorable pioneering films was the 1972 classic Blacula. In that motion picture, the actor's role is turned by Dracula and burdened with the demeaning name “Blacula.” Initially conceived as a caricature, Marshall elevated the role into something majestic, giving his character an 18th-century backstory as Mamuwalde, a proud African prince.
Years afterward, the comedic star seemed to take a cue from his predecessor, 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 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 thought-provoking simultaneously, earning its position in the canon by juggling all three while honoring the heritage of the category.
Debuted three decades back 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 Halloween.
A Tale of Two Cities
Similar to the royal character in Coming to America (the actor'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 Bermuda Triangle into Brooklyn, seeking to find and secure the continuation of his vampire lineage with an heir of his tribe.
Maximillian arrives 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 (the actor), two of the film's funniest characters. The inspector then witnesses a black wolf leap from the ship, run into an alley, and morph into a man — like the iconic routine from the longer Black or White video. Groovy Blaxploitation-style music starts, setting the mood for a film that handily balances scares and laughs.
Artistic Goals
Recently after his final entry in the Nightmare on Elm Street series, the director was keen to move beyond his horror reputation and create a more hybrid genre film (his subsequent project after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which exploited scary conventions for both comedy and genuine scares). Meanwhile, the star wanted to defy assumptions by venturing into a pure scary movie based on Dracula lore. The clash of those artistic aims explains the film's exposition-heavy opening of Max's origins and its generally sluggish start. But once the film clicks into high gear, it opens up to its assets — 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 (Allen Payne), brings a procedural element to the story. Among Black cinema’s most acclaimed actresses, Bassett delivers a commanding performance alongside Payne, a familiar face from the time. In the meantime, Murphy spends the majority of the film with Kadeem Hardison, forming a hilarious classic comedy pair as Hardison’s Julius Jones becomes the vampire's minion. (Seeing Julius descend further into his macabre part as his skin decays throughout the film is a highlight of how Murphy’s usual bag of tricks elevates the humor and fear, even when employed by other actors).
Gothic Intrigue
When Max and Rita’s paths intertwine and the stars finally share the screen, the film reaches its peak — the tension heightens, the scares intensify, and their sinister attraction becomes the focus. The vampire's scheme is to take away everything Rita has in her life and then intervene. He murders her housemate, creates conflict in between her and her love interest, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque prosthetics to masquerade as a preacher and weaken her beliefs.
As the story progresses, it becomes increasingly Gothic, including transformations and discoveries of heritage. This results in a final section filled with temptation, as mortality and damnation hang in the balance. The movie ends with a stinger suggesting a possible follow-up, one that could have happened had the film 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 reviewers later applauding Craven’s direction, the spark between Murphy and Bassett, and its clever mix of horror and comedy. The film shows moments of brilliance that could have been more prominent had everyone involved been aligned on a cohesive approach, rather than producing the tonal hodgepodge viewers saw. Still, Vampire in Brooklyn has deservedly secured its spot in the history of African American scary movies, an underappreciated but impactful film defined by its daring approach and unforgettable performances.
