The director's recent project may have breathed new life into the concept of African American undead, but the origins of this cinematic category trace back to the Blaxploitation era. One of the most iconic early examples was the seminal 1972 movie Blacula. In that film, William Marshall's character is bitten by Dracula and burdened with the insulting name “Blacula.” Initially conceived as a caricature, the performer elevated the role into something regal, giving his character an historical origin as Mamuwalde, a noble royal from Africa.
Years afterward, the comedic star seemed to take a cue from his predecessor, enriching his own character's mythology in Wes Craven's take on the Black vampire subgenre: Vampire in Brooklyn. The protagonist Maximillian is a heir of Dracula whose forebears 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 humorous, frightening, and intellectually stimulating simultaneously, earning its position in the hall of fame by juggling all three while respecting 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 need a little comedy with your frights this Halloween.
From Zamunda to Brooklyn
Like Prince Akeem in Coming to America (the actor's 1988 masterpiece), Maximillian is pulled to New York City. But rather than traveling from a fictional kingdom to Queens, he arrives from the mysterious region into Brooklyn, seeking to locate and ensure the survival of his vampire lineage with an heir of his tribe.
The character makes his entrance in New York aboard a phantom vessel whose crew has been inexplicably killed, a homage to Nosferatu. The ship is discovered by harbor official Silas Green (John Witherspoon) and his relative Julius Jones (Kadeem Hardison), two of the most humorous personalities in the movie. Silas then witnesses a black wolf leap from the ship, dart into an alley, and morph into a man — reminiscent of Michael Jackson's Panther Dance from the extended Black or White video. Funky 1970s-inspired soundtrack starts, establishing the mood for a film that expertly mixes scares and laughs.
Creative Visions
Fresh off his last installment in the Nightmare on Elm Street series, Craven was eager to move beyond his horror reputation and make a more blended comedy (his subsequent project after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which mined horror tropes for both laughs and genuine scares). At the same time, Murphy aimed to subvert expectations by diving into a pure scary movie rooted in vampire mythology. The clash of those artistic aims explains the story's detailed beginning of Max's origins and its generally sluggish start. But when the movie clicks into high gear, it opens up to its assets — like its diverse ensemble.
Angela Bassett, as the object of Maximillian’s affection, plays police officer Rita Veder, whose relationship with her partner and love interest, detective Justice (the actor), adds a crime-drama edge to the narrative. Among Black cinema’s most acclaimed performers, she delivers a commanding acting alongside her co-star, a familiar face from the time. Meanwhile, Murphy spends most of his screen time with Kadeem Hardison, forming a uproarious Abbott-and-Costello-style duo as the actor's Julius Jones becomes the vampire's minion. (Watching Julius descend further into his ghoulish role as his skin decays throughout the film is a highlight of how the star's comedic style elevates the comedy and horror, even when employed 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 fear escalates, and their darkly seductive chemistry becomes the focus. Max’s plan is to remove all Rita has in her life and then intervene. He murders her roommate, drives a wedge between her and her love interest, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque prosthetics to disguise himself as a preacher and weaken her faith.
As the story unfolds, it becomes more darkly romantic, featuring metamorphoses and discoveries of heritage. This leads to a third act packed with temptation, as mortality and damnation hang in the balance. The film ends with a teaser hinting at a possible follow-up, one that might have materialized had the film been more successful. Vampire in Brooklyn earned a modest box office return and got largely critical reception upon debut. As years passed, it found new life as a cult favorite, with critics later praising Craven’s direction, the electric chemistry Murphy and Bassett, and its clever mix of horror and comedy. The film shows moments of brilliance that might have shone brighter had all participants been in agreement on a cohesive approach, rather than producing the tonal hodgepodge audiences received. Still, Vampire in Brooklyn has deservedly secured its spot in the history of African American scary movies, an overlooked but impactful entry defined by its daring approach and unforgettable performances.
