The director'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 1970s cultural movement. Among the most memorable early examples was the seminal 1972 movie Blacula. In that motion picture, William Marshall's role is bitten by Dracula and burdened with the demeaning name “Blacula.” Originally written as a stereotype, the performer elevated the role into something majestic, giving his character an historical origin as Mamuwalde, a proud African prince.
Years afterward, the comedic star seemed to take a cue from Marshall, enriching his own protagonist's lore in Wes Craven's interpretation on the African American horror niche: Vampire in Brooklyn. Murphy's Maximillian is a descendant of Dracula whose ancestors escaped to Egypt, and later to the Bermuda Triangle, after being persecuted to the edge of annihilation. Vampire in Brooklyn proves that Black vampire stories can be humorous, terrifying, and thought-provoking all at once, securing its place in the hall of fame 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 a popular platform, making it an must-see if you need a dash of humor with your scares this spooky season.
A Tale of Two Cities
Like Prince Akeem in Coming to America (the actor's 1988 masterpiece), the vampire lead is pulled to the Big Apple. But instead of journeying from Zamunda to Queens, he arrives from the mysterious region into Brooklyn, aiming to find and secure the survival of his undead bloodline with an offspring of his tribe.
The character makes his entrance in New York on a ghost ship whose crew has been inexplicably killed, a nod to Nosferatu. The vessel is discovered by ship inspector Silas Green (John Witherspoon) 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, dart into an alley, and morph into a human — reminiscent of the iconic routine from the extended Black or White video. Groovy 1970s-inspired soundtrack starts, setting the mood for a film that expertly mixes scares and laughs.
Directorial Ambitions
Fresh off his last installment in the iconic horror series, Craven was eager to move beyond his horror reputation and create a more blended comedy (his next film after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which mined horror tropes for both comedy and real fear). At the same time, the star aimed to subvert expectations by diving into a pure scary movie based on Dracula lore. The conflict of those artistic aims explains the film's exposition-heavy opening of Max's origins and its somewhat slow commencement. But once the movie clicks into high gear, it unfolds to its strengths — like its diverse ensemble.
The acclaimed actress, as the object of Maximillian’s affection, plays detective Rita Veder, whose relationship with her colleague and romantic lead, detective Justice (Allen Payne), adds a procedural element to the narrative. Among African American film's most acclaimed actresses, she gives a powerful performance with Payne, a familiar face from the time. In the meantime, the lead spends the majority of the film with Kadeem Hardison, forming a hilarious classic comedy pair as the actor's Julius Jones becomes Max’s undead lackey. (Seeing Julius descend further into his macabre part as his skin decays throughout the film is a highlight of how the star's comedic style elevates the humor and fear, even when utilized by the cast).
Gothic Intrigue
When the two leads meet and Murphy and Bassett appear together, the film hits its stride — the suspense builds, the scares intensify, and their darkly seductive chemistry becomes the focus. The vampire's scheme is to take away everything Rita has in her life and then swoop in. He kills her roommate, drives a wedge in 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 more darkly romantic, including metamorphoses and revelations of origins. This leads to a final section filled with temptation, as life and eternal punishment hang in the balance. The film concludes with a stinger hinting at a possible follow-up, one that could have happened had the film performed better. Vampire in Brooklyn made a moderate financial success and received largely critical reception upon release. Over time, it gained popularity 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 movie flashes moments of brilliance that could have been more prominent had all participants been in agreement on a cohesive approach, rather than delivering the tonal hodgepodge viewers saw. Nevertheless, Vampire in Brooklyn has rightfully earned its place in the canon of Black horror, an underappreciated but influential entry defined by its daring approach and memorable acting.
