Ryan Coogler's latest project may have revitalized the idea of African American undead, 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 film, the actor's character is bitten by Dracula and cursed with the insulting name “Blacula.” Originally written as a stereotype, Marshall elevated the part into something regal, giving his figure an 18th-century backstory as Mamuwalde, a proud African prince.
Decades later, the comedic star seemed to take a cue from his predecessor, deepening his own protagonist's lore in the director's interpretation on the African American horror niche: Vampire in Brooklyn. Murphy's Maximillian is a heir of Dracula whose forebears fled to Egypt, and later to the Bermuda Triangle, after being hunted to the brink of extinction. Vampire in Brooklyn demonstrates that tales of African American undead can be funny, terrifying, and intellectually stimulating all at once, earning its position in the hall of fame by balancing all three while honoring the heritage of the category.
Debuted 30 years ago on October 27th, 1995, Vampire in Brooklyn is currently streaming on Tubi, making it an essential watch if you want a little comedy with your scares this spooky season.
A Tale of Two Cities
Like 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 traveling from Zamunda to Queens, he arrives from the Bermuda Triangle into Brooklyn, aiming to locate and ensure the continuation of his vampire lineage with an offspring of his tribe.
The character makes his entrance in New York on a phantom vessel whose crew has been inexplicably killed, a homage to Nosferatu. The vessel is found by harbor official Silas Green (John Witherspoon) and his nephew Julius Jones (the actor), two of the most humorous personalities in the movie. Silas then witnesses a black wolf jump from the ship, dart into an alley, and transform into a man — like Michael Jackson's Panther Dance from the extended Black or White video. Groovy 1970s-inspired soundtrack starts, establishing the mood for a movie that expertly mixes horror and humor.
Artistic Goals
Fresh off his final entry in the iconic horror series, the director was keen 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 scary conventions for both laughs and real fear). At the same time, Murphy aimed to defy assumptions by diving into a pure scary movie based on vampire mythology. The clash of those artistic aims explains the film's exposition-heavy opening of Max's origins and its somewhat slow commencement. But when the movie clicks into high gear, it opens up to its strengths — like its eclectic cast.
Angela Bassett, 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 Black cinema’s most praised actresses, Bassett delivers a powerful acting alongside Payne, a well-known actor from the time. In the meantime, the lead spends most of his screen time with his comedic partner, forming a hilarious Abbott-and-Costello-style duo as the actor's Julius Jones becomes the vampire's minion. (Seeing Julius sink deeper and deeper into his macabre part as his appearance deteriorates throughout the film is a standout moment of how the star's comedic style elevates the comedy and horror, even when employed by the cast).
Gothic Intrigue
When Max and Rita’s paths intertwine and the stars appear together, the movie reaches its peak — the suspense builds, the scares intensify, and their darkly seductive chemistry becomes the focus. The vampire's scheme is to take away all Rita has in her life and then swoop in. He kills her roommate, creates conflict between her and her partner, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque prosthetics to disguise himself as a preacher and undermine her faith.
As the plot unfolds, it becomes more darkly romantic, featuring transformations and discoveries of heritage. This leads to a final section filled with temptation, as mortality and damnation are at stake. The film ends with a stinger suggesting a possible follow-up, one that might have materialized had the film been more successful. Vampire in Brooklyn made a modest box office return and received largely critical reception upon debut. As years passed, it found new life as a beloved classic, with critics later applauding the filmmaker's work, the spark between Murphy and Bassett, and its clever mix of frights and fun. The movie shows moments of brilliance that could have been more prominent had all participants been aligned on a unified vision, rather than producing the mixed-genre result viewers saw. Still, Vampire in Brooklyn has rightfully earned its place in the history of African American scary movies, an underappreciated but influential film characterized by its bold style and unforgettable performances.
