The director's recent project may have revitalized the concept of Black vampires, but the origins of this subgenre trace back to the Blaxploitation era. Among the most iconic pioneering films was the seminal 1972 movie Blacula. In that film, William Marshall's role is bitten by Dracula and cursed with the demeaning name “Blacula.” Originally written as a caricature, the performer elevated the part into something regal, giving his character an 18th-century backstory as Mamuwalde, a noble royal from Africa.
Years afterward, Eddie Murphy seemed to take a cue from his predecessor, deepening his own protagonist's lore in Wes Craven'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 hunted to the edge of annihilation. Vampire in Brooklyn demonstrates that Black vampire stories can be humorous, terrifying, and intellectually stimulating all at once, securing its position in the hall of fame by juggling all three while honoring the heritage of the category.
Released 30 years ago on October 27th, 1995, Vampire in Brooklyn is now available on a popular platform, making it an must-see if you want a little comedy with your frights this spooky season.
From Zamunda to Brooklyn
Like the royal character in Coming to America (Murphy's classic from 1988), Maximillian is drawn to New York City. But rather than journeying from Zamunda to Queens, he emerges from the mysterious region into Brooklyn, aiming to locate and ensure the survival of his vampire lineage with an heir of his clan.
Maximillian arrives in New York on a phantom vessel whose crew has been mysteriously slaughtered, a homage to Nosferatu. The vessel is discovered by ship inspector Silas Green (John Witherspoon) and his nephew Julius Jones (Kadeem Hardison), two of the film's funniest characters. The inspector then observes a dark creature 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 kicks in, setting the tone for a film that expertly mixes horror and humor.
Directorial Ambitions
Recently after his last installment in the Nightmare on Elm Street series, the director was eager to break from his horror reputation and create a more blended comedy (his next film after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which mined scary conventions for both laughs and genuine scares). At the same time, the star wanted to defy assumptions by venturing into a pure scary movie rooted in vampire mythology. The conflict of those artistic aims accounts for the story's detailed beginning of Max's origins and its generally sluggish start. But when the film hits its stride, it opens up to its strengths — like its eclectic cast.
The acclaimed actress, as the vampire's love interest, plays police officer Rita Veder, whose relationship with her colleague and romantic lead, detective Justice (Allen Payne), brings a procedural element to the story. Among Black cinema’s most praised performers, she gives a commanding performance alongside her co-star, a well-known actor from the time. Meanwhile, the lead spends the majority of the film with his comedic partner, forming a hilarious classic comedy pair as Hardison’s Julius Jones becomes Max’s undead lackey. (Watching Julius sink deeper and deeper into his ghoulish role as his appearance deteriorates throughout the film is a standout moment of how the star's comedic style elevates the humor and fear, even when employed by the cast).
Gothic Intrigue
When Max and Rita’s paths intertwine and Murphy and Bassett appear together, the movie reaches its peak — the suspense builds, the scares intensify, and their darkly seductive chemistry takes center stage. The vampire's scheme is to take away everything Rita has in her life and then intervene. He murders her housemate, drives a wedge between her and her partner, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque make-up effects to masquerade as a preacher and undermine her faith.
As the story unfolds, it becomes increasingly Gothic, featuring transformations and discoveries of heritage. This leads to a third act packed with temptation, as mortality and damnation are at stake. The movie concludes with a stinger hinting at a possible follow-up, one that might have materialized had the movie performed better. Vampire in Brooklyn earned a modest box office return and received largely critical reception upon debut. Over time, it found new life as a cult favorite, with critics later praising the filmmaker's work, the electric chemistry the leads, and its sharp blend of horror and comedy. The movie shows moments of brilliance that might have shone brighter had everyone involved been in agreement on a unified vision, rather than delivering the tonal hodgepodge audiences received. Still, Vampire in Brooklyn has rightfully earned its spot in the history of African American scary movies, an overlooked but influential entry characterized by its daring approach and memorable acting.