The director's recent work may have revitalized the idea of Black vampires, but the roots of this subgenre date back to the 1970s cultural movement. Among the most iconic early examples was the 1972 classic Blacula. In that film, the actor's character is bitten by Dracula and burdened with the demeaning name “Blacula.” Originally written as a caricature, the performer transformed the role into something majestic, giving his character an historical origin as Mamuwalde, a noble royal from Africa.
Decades later, the comedic star appeared to draw a cue from Marshall, deepening his own character's mythology in the director's interpretation on the African American horror niche: Vampire in Brooklyn. Murphy's Maximillian is a descendant of Dracula whose forebears fled to Egypt, and later to the Bermuda Triangle, after being hunted to the edge of annihilation. Vampire in Brooklyn demonstrates that tales of African American undead can be humorous, terrifying, and intellectually stimulating all at once, securing its place in the hall of fame by balancing all three while respecting the subgenre's legacy.
Released 30 years ago on October 27th, 1995, Vampire in Brooklyn is currently streaming on Tubi, making it an must-see if you want a dash of humor with your scares this spooky season.
A Tale of Two Cities
Like the royal character in Coming to America (the actor's 1988 masterpiece), the vampire lead is pulled to New York City. But instead of traveling from a fictional kingdom to Queens, he emerges from the mysterious region into Brooklyn, seeking to find and secure the survival of his vampire lineage with an heir of his tribe.
Maximillian arrives in New York on a phantom vessel whose sailors has been mysteriously slaughtered, a nod to Nosferatu. The ship is found by ship inspector Silas Green (the comedian) and his relative Julius Jones (Kadeem Hardison), two of the film's funniest characters. The inspector then witnesses a dark creature jump from the ship, dart into an alley, and transform into a man — reminiscent of Michael Jackson's Panther Dance from the extended Black or White video. Groovy 1970s-inspired soundtrack kicks in, setting the mood for a movie that handily balances scares and laughs.
Directorial Ambitions
Fresh off his last installment in the iconic horror series, the director was keen to move beyond his scary movie image and make a more hybrid genre film (his subsequent project after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which exploited scary conventions for both laughs and genuine scares). Meanwhile, the star wanted to defy assumptions by diving into a straight horror rooted in vampire mythology. The conflict of those creative goals 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 assets — like its diverse ensemble.
The acclaimed actress, as the object of Maximillian’s affection, plays police officer Rita Veder, whose relationship with her colleague and romantic lead, detective Justice (the actor), brings a procedural element to the narrative. One of African American film's most praised performers, she gives a powerful performance with Payne, a well-known actor from the era. Meanwhile, Murphy spends most of his screen time with his comedic partner, forming a uproarious classic comedy pair as Hardison’s Julius Jones becomes Max’s undead lackey. (Watching Julius sink deeper and deeper into his macabre part as his appearance deteriorates throughout the film is a standout moment of how Murphy’s usual bag of tricks elevates the comedy and horror, even when utilized by the cast).
Gothic Intrigue
When Max and Rita’s paths intertwine and Murphy and Bassett finally share the screen, the movie hits its stride — the suspense builds, the fear escalates, and their sinister attraction takes center stage. Max’s plan is to remove all Rita has in her life and then swoop in. He kills her housemate, drives a wedge between her and her partner, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque make-up effects to disguise himself as a preacher and weaken her beliefs.
As the plot unfolds, it becomes more darkly romantic, including metamorphoses and revelations of origins. This results in a third act packed with seduction, as life and eternal punishment hang in the balance. 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 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 praising the filmmaker's work, the spark between Murphy and Bassett, and its clever mix of frights and fun. The film shows glimpses of genius that might have shone brighter had all participants been aligned on a cohesive approach, rather than producing the mixed-genre result audiences received. Still, Vampire in Brooklyn has rightfully earned its spot in the canon of African American scary movies, an underappreciated but influential entry defined by its daring approach and unforgettable performances.
