Ryan Coogler's recent work may have revitalized the idea of African American undead, but the roots of this cinematic category trace back to the 1970s cultural movement. One of the most memorable pioneering films was the seminal 1972 movie Blacula. In that motion picture, the actor's role is bitten by Dracula and cursed with the demeaning name “Blacula.” Originally written as a stereotype, the performer elevated the part into something majestic, giving his figure an 18th-century backstory as Mamuwalde, a proud African prince.
Decades later, Eddie Murphy seemed to take a cue from Marshall, deepening his own protagonist's lore in the director's take on the African American horror niche: Vampire in Brooklyn. Murphy's Maximillian is a descendant of Dracula whose ancestors escaped to Egypt, and later to the Bermuda Triangle, after being hunted to the brink of extinction. Vampire in Brooklyn proves that tales of African American undead can be funny, frightening, and intellectually stimulating simultaneously, earning its place in the canon by juggling all three while respecting the heritage of the category.
Released three decades back on Oct. 27, 1995, Vampire in Brooklyn is now available on a popular platform, making it an must-see if you want a little comedy with your scares this Halloween.
From Zamunda to Brooklyn
Similar to the royal character in Coming to America (the actor's classic from 1988), the vampire lead is pulled to New York City. But rather than traveling from a fictional kingdom to Queens, he arrives from the Bermuda Triangle into Brooklyn, aiming to locate and ensure the survival of his undead bloodline with an offspring of his tribe.
The character makes his entrance in New York on a ghost ship whose sailors has been inexplicably killed, a homage to Nosferatu. The vessel is discovered by harbor official Silas Green (John Witherspoon) and his relative Julius Jones (the actor), two of the most humorous personalities in the movie. Silas then observes a dark creature jump from the ship, run 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 starts, establishing the tone for a film that expertly mixes scares and laughs.
Creative Visions
Fresh off his final entry in the iconic horror series, the director was eager to move beyond his scary movie image and make a more hybrid genre film (his next film after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which exploited scary conventions for both laughs and genuine scares). At the same time, the star aimed to defy assumptions by diving into a straight horror rooted in vampire mythology. The clash of those artistic aims accounts for the story's detailed beginning of Max's origins and its generally sluggish start. But once the film hits its stride, it unfolds to its strengths — 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 crime-drama edge to the narrative. One of African American film's most praised actresses, Bassett gives a commanding acting alongside Payne, a familiar face from the era. In the meantime, the lead spends most of his screen time with his comedic partner, forming a uproarious Abbott-and-Costello-style duo as the actor's Julius Jones becomes the vampire's minion. (Seeing Julius sink deeper and deeper into his ghoulish role as his skin decays during the movie is a standout moment of how Murphy’s usual bag of tricks enhances the humor and fear, even when employed by the cast).
Supernatural Romance
When the two leads meet and Murphy and Bassett finally share the screen, the film reaches its peak — the tension heightens, the scares intensify, and their sinister attraction becomes the focus. Max’s plan is to take away everything Rita has in her life and then intervene. He murders her roommate, drives a wedge between her and her partner, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque prosthetics to disguise himself as a clergyman and weaken her beliefs.
As the story progresses, it becomes more darkly romantic, including transformations and discoveries of heritage. This leads to a third act packed with temptation, as life and eternal punishment hang in the balance. The movie concludes with a teaser suggesting a potential sequel, one that could have happened had the film been more successful. Vampire in Brooklyn earned a modest box office return and got mostly negative reviews upon release. Over time, it gained popularity as a beloved classic, with reviewers later praising Craven’s direction, the spark between the leads, and its sharp blend of horror and comedy. The film shows glimpses of genius that could have been more prominent had all participants been in agreement on a unified vision, rather than delivering the tonal hodgepodge viewers saw. Nevertheless, Vampire in Brooklyn has deservedly secured its place in the canon of African American scary movies, an overlooked but influential entry characterized by its daring approach and memorable acting.
