Ryan Coogler's latest project may have revitalized the concept of African American undead, but the origins of this cinematic category trace back to the 1970s cultural movement. Among the most memorable pioneering films was the 1972 classic Blacula. In that motion picture, the actor's character is bitten by Dracula and cursed with the insulting name “Blacula.” Originally written as a caricature, Marshall elevated the role into something majestic, giving his figure an 18th-century backstory as Mamuwalde, a proud African prince.
Decades later, Eddie Murphy appeared to draw 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 ancestors fled to Egypt, and later to the Bermuda Triangle, after being persecuted to the brink of extinction. Vampire in Brooklyn proves that tales of African American undead can be funny, frightening, 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.
Released 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 frights this spooky season.
An Urban Vampire Story
Like Prince Akeem in Coming to America (Murphy's classic from 1988), the vampire lead is drawn to the Big Apple. But rather than traveling from Zamunda to Queens, he emerges from the mysterious region into Brooklyn, seeking to find and secure the survival of his undead bloodline with an offspring of his clan.
The character makes his entrance in New York aboard a phantom vessel whose sailors has been inexplicably killed, a nod to Nosferatu. The ship is discovered by ship inspector Silas Green (the comedian) and his nephew Julius Jones (the actor), two of the most humorous personalities in the movie. The inspector then observes a dark creature leap from the ship, dart into an alley, and transform into a man — reminiscent of Michael Jackson's Panther Dance from the longer Black or White video. Funky Blaxploitation-style music kicks in, establishing the mood for a film that handily balances horror and humor.
Directorial Ambitions
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 hybrid genre film (his next film 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 venturing into a pure scary movie based on Dracula lore. The clash of those artistic aims explains the film's exposition-heavy opening of the protagonist's backstory and its generally sluggish start. But when the film hits its stride, it opens up to its strengths — like its diverse ensemble.
The acclaimed actress, as the vampire's love interest, plays detective Rita Veder, whose relationship with her colleague and romantic lead, detective Justice (the actor), adds a crime-drama edge to the story. One of African American film's most acclaimed performers, she delivers a commanding performance with Payne, a well-known actor from the era. Meanwhile, Murphy spends most of his screen time with his comedic partner, creating 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 appearance deteriorates during the movie is a standout moment of how the star's comedic style elevates the comedy and horror, even when utilized by other actors).
Dark Seduction
When the two leads meet and Murphy and Bassett finally share the screen, the movie hits its stride — the tension heightens, the scares intensify, and their sinister attraction takes center stage. The vampire's scheme is to take away 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 prosthetics to masquerade as a clergyman and undermine her faith.
As the story progresses, it becomes increasingly Gothic, featuring transformations and revelations of origins. This leads to a third act packed with temptation, as mortality and damnation hang in the balance. The film ends with a stinger hinting at a possible follow-up, one that could have happened had the movie been more successful. 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 electric chemistry Murphy and Bassett, and its clever mix of frights and fun. The film shows moments of brilliance that might have shone brighter had everyone involved been in agreement on a cohesive approach, rather than producing the mixed-genre result audiences received. 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 unforgettable performances.
