Ryan Coogler's recent work may have breathed new life into the idea of African American undead, but the origins of this cinematic category trace back to the 1970s cultural movement. Among the most memorable early examples was the 1972 classic Blacula. In that film, the actor's character is bitten by Dracula and cursed with the demeaning name “Blacula.” Originally written as a caricature, the performer transformed the part into something regal, giving his character an historical origin as Mamuwalde, a noble royal from Africa.
Decades later, the comedic star appeared to draw inspiration from Marshall, deepening his own character's mythology in Wes Craven's take on the African American horror niche: Vampire in Brooklyn. Murphy's Maximillian is a descendant of Dracula whose ancestors fled to Egypt, and later to the Bermuda Triangle, after being persecuted to the edge of annihilation. Vampire in Brooklyn demonstrates that Black vampire stories can be funny, terrifying, and intellectually stimulating simultaneously, earning its position in the canon by balancing all three while honoring the subgenre's legacy.
Debuted three decades back on Oct. 27, 1995, Vampire in Brooklyn is now available on Tubi, making it an must-see if you want a dash of humor with your scares this Halloween.
From Zamunda to Brooklyn
Similar to the royal character in Coming to America (Murphy's 1988 masterpiece), Maximillian is drawn to New York City. But rather than traveling from Zamunda to Queens, he arrives from the mysterious region into Brooklyn, aiming to find and secure the survival of his vampire lineage with an offspring of his clan.
Maximillian arrives in New York on a ghost ship whose sailors has been inexplicably killed, a nod to Nosferatu. The ship is found by harbor official Silas Green (John Witherspoon) and his relative Julius Jones (the actor), two of the film's funniest characters. The inspector then witnesses a black wolf leap from the ship, dart into an alley, and transform into a human — like Michael Jackson's Panther Dance from the longer Black or White video. Groovy Blaxploitation-style music kicks in, setting the tone for a film that handily balances horror and humor.
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 real fear). At the same time, the star aimed to subvert expectations by venturing into a straight horror based on Dracula lore. The conflict of those creative goals explains the film's exposition-heavy opening of Max's origins and its generally sluggish start. But once the film hits its stride, it unfolds to its strengths — like its diverse ensemble.
Angela Bassett, as the vampire's love interest, plays police officer Rita Veder, whose relationship with her colleague and romantic lead, detective Justice (Allen Payne), brings a procedural element to the narrative. Among Black cinema’s most acclaimed actresses, Bassett gives a powerful performance with her co-star, a familiar face from the time. Meanwhile, Murphy spends the majority of the film with his comedic partner, forming a hilarious classic comedy pair as the actor's Julius Jones becomes Max’s undead lackey. (Watching Julius sink deeper and deeper into his ghoulish role as his skin decays during the movie is a highlight of how the star's comedic style enhances the comedy and horror, even when utilized by the cast).
Gothic Intrigue
When Max and Rita’s paths intertwine and the stars appear together, the movie hits its stride — the suspense builds, the scares intensify, and their darkly seductive chemistry becomes the focus. Max’s plan is to remove all Rita has in her life and then swoop in. He murders her housemate, creates conflict in between her and her love interest, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque make-up effects to masquerade as a preacher and undermine her beliefs.
As the plot progresses, it becomes more darkly romantic, featuring metamorphoses and discoveries of heritage. This leads to a final section packed with temptation, as life and eternal punishment hang in the balance. The movie ends with a stinger suggesting a potential sequel, one that could have happened had the movie been more successful. Vampire in Brooklyn earned a moderate financial success and got largely critical reception upon release. Over time, it found new life as a beloved classic, with critics later applauding Craven’s direction, the spark between Murphy and Bassett, and its sharp blend of horror and comedy. The film flashes moments of brilliance that might have shone brighter had all participants been in agreement on a unified vision, rather than delivering the tonal hodgepodge audiences received. Nevertheless, Vampire in Brooklyn has deservedly secured its spot in the history of African American scary movies, an underappreciated but influential entry characterized by its daring approach and unforgettable performances.
