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 iconic early examples was the seminal 1972 movie Blacula. In that motion picture, the actor's character is turned by Dracula and cursed with the insulting name “Blacula.” Originally written as a stereotype, the performer elevated the role into something majestic, giving his figure an historical origin as Mamuwalde, a proud African prince.
Decades later, the comedic star appeared to draw a cue from Marshall, enriching his own protagonist's lore in Wes Craven's take 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 persecuted to the brink of extinction. Vampire in Brooklyn demonstrates that tales of African American undead can be funny, frightening, and thought-provoking simultaneously, earning its position in the canon by juggling all three while respecting the heritage of the category.
Debuted three decades back on October 27th, 1995, Vampire in Brooklyn is currently streaming on a popular platform, making it an must-see if you want a little comedy with your frights this Halloween.
A Tale of Two Cities
Like the royal character in Coming to America (the actor's classic from 1988), the vampire lead is drawn to New York City. But instead of traveling from Zamunda to Queens, he emerges from the mysterious region into Brooklyn, aiming to locate and ensure the continuation of his undead bloodline with an offspring of his clan.
The character makes his entrance in New York on a ghost ship whose crew has been mysteriously slaughtered, a homage to Nosferatu. The ship is discovered by ship inspector Silas Green (John Witherspoon) and his nephew Julius Jones (the actor), two of the film's funniest characters. Silas then observes a dark creature leap from the ship, run into an alley, and morph into a man — reminiscent of Michael Jackson's Panther Dance from the extended Black or White video. Groovy 1970s-inspired soundtrack starts, establishing the tone for a film that handily balances scares and laughs.
Artistic Goals
Fresh off his last installment in the Nightmare on Elm Street series, the director was eager to move beyond his horror reputation and make a more hybrid genre film (his subsequent project after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which exploited horror tropes for both comedy and genuine scares). At the same time, the star aimed to defy assumptions by diving into a pure scary movie based on vampire mythology. The conflict 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 unfolds to its assets — like its eclectic cast.
The acclaimed actress, as the vampire's love interest, plays police officer Rita Veder, whose dynamic with her partner and love interest, detective Justice (the actor), adds a crime-drama edge to the narrative. One of Black cinema’s most praised performers, she delivers a commanding performance with her co-star, a familiar face from the time. In the meantime, the lead spends the majority of the film with his comedic partner, forming a hilarious classic comedy pair as Hardison’s Julius Jones becomes the vampire's minion. (Seeing Julius sink deeper and deeper into his macabre part as his skin decays throughout the film is a highlight of how Murphy’s usual bag of tricks elevates the humor and fear, even when employed by other actors).
Supernatural Romance
When the two leads meet and the stars appear together, the movie hits its stride — the suspense builds, the fear escalates, and their darkly seductive chemistry becomes the focus. The vampire's scheme is to take away all Rita has in her life and then intervene. He kills her roommate, drives a wedge in between her and her partner, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque make-up effects to disguise himself as a clergyman and undermine her faith.
As the plot progresses, it becomes increasingly Gothic, featuring transformations and revelations of origins. This leads to a final section filled with seduction, as mortality and damnation are at stake. The movie ends with a stinger suggesting a possible follow-up, one that might have materialized had the film performed better. Vampire in Brooklyn made a moderate financial success and received largely critical reception upon debut. Over time, it found new life as a cult favorite, with reviewers later praising the filmmaker's work, the spark between Murphy and Bassett, and its sharp blend of horror and comedy. The film flashes glimpses of genius that might have shone brighter had everyone involved been aligned on a unified vision, rather than delivering the mixed-genre result audiences received. Nevertheless, Vampire in Brooklyn has rightfully earned its spot in the canon of Black horror, an overlooked but influential film characterized by its daring approach and memorable acting.
