The director's latest work may have revitalized the idea of Black vampires, but the origins of this cinematic category date back to the Blaxploitation era. One of the most memorable early examples was the seminal 1972 movie Blacula. In that motion picture, the actor's role is turned by Dracula and burdened with the demeaning name “Blacula.” Initially conceived as a stereotype, the performer transformed the part into something majestic, giving his character an 18th-century backstory as Mamuwalde, a noble royal from Africa.
Years afterward, the comedic star appeared to draw a cue from his predecessor, deepening 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 persecuted to the brink of extinction. Vampire in Brooklyn proves 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 three decades back on Oct. 27, 1995, Vampire in Brooklyn is currently streaming on Tubi, making it an must-see if you need a little comedy with your frights this spooky season.
An Urban Vampire Story
Like Prince Akeem in Coming to America (the actor's 1988 masterpiece), Maximillian is pulled to the Big Apple. But rather than traveling from Zamunda to Queens, he emerges from the Bermuda Triangle into Brooklyn, seeking to find and secure the survival of his vampire lineage with an offspring of his tribe.
Maximillian arrives in New York on a phantom vessel whose crew has been inexplicably killed, a nod to Nosferatu. The vessel is discovered by harbor official Silas Green (the comedian) and his relative Julius Jones (the actor), two of the film's funniest characters. Silas then witnesses a dark creature leap from the ship, run into an alley, and morph into a human — reminiscent of Michael Jackson's Panther Dance from the extended Black or White video. Groovy 1970s-inspired soundtrack kicks in, establishing the mood for a movie that expertly mixes horror and humor.
Creative Visions
Fresh off his final entry in the iconic horror series, the director was eager to break from his scary movie image and make a more hybrid genre film (his next film after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which mined horror tropes for both comedy and real fear). Meanwhile, Murphy wanted to defy assumptions by venturing into a straight horror rooted in vampire mythology. The clash of those creative goals accounts for the film's exposition-heavy opening of the protagonist's backstory and its generally sluggish start. But when the film hits its stride, it unfolds to its strengths — like its eclectic cast.
The acclaimed actress, as the vampire's love interest, plays detective Rita Veder, whose dynamic with her colleague and romantic lead, detective Justice (Allen Payne), adds a procedural element to the story. Among African American film's most acclaimed performers, she delivers a commanding performance with her co-star, a well-known actor from the time. Meanwhile, the lead spends most of his screen time with his comedic partner, forming a hilarious Abbott-and-Costello-style duo 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 comedy and horror, even when utilized by the cast).
Gothic Intrigue
When the two leads meet and Murphy and Bassett finally share the screen, the movie reaches its peak — the suspense builds, the scares intensify, and their sinister attraction becomes the focus. The vampire's scheme is to remove everything Rita has in her life and then swoop in. He murders her roommate, drives a wedge between her and her love interest, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque make-up effects to masquerade as a clergyman and weaken her faith.
As the plot progresses, it becomes increasingly Gothic, featuring transformations and discoveries of heritage. This results in a final section packed with temptation, as life and eternal punishment are at stake. The film concludes with a stinger hinting at a possible follow-up, one that could have happened had the film been more successful. Vampire in Brooklyn earned a moderate financial success and got mostly negative reviews upon debut. As years passed, it found new life as a cult favorite, with reviewers later applauding Craven’s direction, the electric chemistry Murphy and Bassett, and its sharp blend of horror and comedy. The movie flashes glimpses of genius that could have been more prominent had all participants been in agreement on a cohesive approach, rather than delivering the mixed-genre result viewers saw. Still, Vampire in Brooklyn has deservedly secured its spot in the history of African American scary movies, an underappreciated but influential film defined by its bold style and memorable acting.
