The director's latest project may have revitalized the idea of African American undead, but the roots of this subgenre date back to the 1970s cultural movement. Among the most iconic pioneering films was the 1972 classic Blacula. In that film, the actor's character is bitten by Dracula and burdened with the demeaning name “Blacula.” Initially conceived as a caricature, the performer elevated the role into something majestic, giving his figure an 18th-century backstory as Mamuwalde, a noble royal from Africa.
Years afterward, Eddie Murphy seemed to take inspiration from his predecessor, deepening 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 ancestors fled to Egypt, and later to the Bermuda Triangle, after being persecuted to the edge of annihilation. Vampire in Brooklyn proves that tales of African American undead can be funny, terrifying, and intellectually stimulating simultaneously, securing its place in the hall of fame by juggling all three while honoring 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 essential watch if you want a little comedy with your frights this spooky season.
Like Prince Akeem in Coming to America (Murphy's classic from 1988), the vampire lead is pulled to New York City. But instead of traveling from Zamunda to Queens, he emerges from the Bermuda Triangle into Brooklyn, seeking to locate and ensure the continuation of his vampire lineage with an offspring of his tribe.
The character makes his entrance in New York aboard a ghost ship whose crew has been inexplicably killed, a homage to Nosferatu. The ship is discovered by harbor official Silas Green (the comedian) and his nephew Julius Jones (the actor), two of the film's funniest characters. Silas then observes a black wolf jump from the ship, dart into an alley, and morph into a human — reminiscent of the iconic routine from the extended Black or White video. Funky Blaxploitation-style music starts, setting the tone for a film that handily balances scares and laughs.
Recently after his last installment in the iconic horror series, the director was eager to break from his scary movie image and create a more blended comedy (his subsequent project after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which mined scary conventions for both laughs and real fear). At the same time, Murphy wanted to subvert expectations by diving into a straight horror rooted in vampire mythology. The clash of those artistic aims accounts for the film's exposition-heavy opening of Max's origins and its generally sluggish start. But when the film clicks into high gear, it unfolds to its assets — like its eclectic cast.
Angela Bassett, 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 narrative. Among African American film's most praised performers, Bassett gives a commanding acting with her co-star, a well-known actor from the era. In the meantime, Murphy spends the majority of the film with Kadeem Hardison, forming a hilarious Abbott-and-Costello-style duo as Hardison’s Julius Jones becomes the vampire's minion. (Seeing Julius descend further into his ghoulish role as his appearance deteriorates throughout the film is a standout moment of how the star's comedic style enhances the comedy and horror, even when utilized by the cast).
When Max and Rita’s paths intertwine and the stars appear together, the movie hits its stride — the tension heightens, the fear escalates, and their darkly seductive chemistry becomes the focus. The vampire's scheme is to remove all Rita has in her life and then swoop in. He kills her housemate, creates conflict in between her and her partner, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque prosthetics to masquerade as a clergyman and weaken her faith.
As the plot progresses, it becomes more darkly romantic, including transformations and discoveries of heritage. This results in a final section filled with seduction, as mortality and damnation hang in the balance. The film concludes with a teaser suggesting a potential sequel, one that might have materialized had the film been more successful. Vampire in Brooklyn made a modest box office return and received mostly negative reviews upon debut. Over time, it gained popularity as a beloved classic, with reviewers later praising Craven’s direction, the electric chemistry the leads, and its sharp blend of horror and comedy. The film shows glimpses of genius that might have shone brighter had all participants been aligned on a cohesive approach, rather than delivering the tonal hodgepodge viewers saw. Nevertheless, Vampire in Brooklyn has deservedly secured its place in the history of African American scary movies, an underappreciated but influential entry defined by its daring approach and memorable acting.
Elena Hartwell is a multidisciplinary artist and educator passionate about fostering creative communities in London.