The director's recent project may have breathed new life into the concept of African American undead, but the roots of this cinematic category trace back to the 1970s cultural movement. Among the most iconic pioneering films was the seminal 1972 movie Blacula. In that motion picture, the actor's role is turned by Dracula and cursed with the demeaning name “Blacula.” Originally written as a caricature, the performer transformed the part into something regal, providing his character an historical origin as Mamuwalde, a noble royal from Africa.
Years afterward, the comedic star seemed to take a cue from his predecessor, deepening his own character's mythology in the director's take on the Black vampire subgenre: Vampire in Brooklyn. The protagonist Maximillian is a descendant of Dracula whose forebears fled to Egypt, and later to the Bermuda Triangle, after being hunted to the brink of extinction. Vampire in Brooklyn proves that Black vampire stories can be funny, frightening, and thought-provoking simultaneously, earning its position in the hall of fame by juggling all three while honoring the subgenre's legacy.
Debuted three decades back on Oct. 27, 1995, Vampire in Brooklyn is now available on Tubi, making it an essential watch if you need a dash of humor with your scares this Halloween.
A Tale of Two Cities
Similar to Prince Akeem in Coming to America (the actor's classic from 1988), Maximillian is drawn to New York City. But instead of traveling from Zamunda to Queens, he emerges from the mysterious region into Brooklyn, seeking to find and secure the continuation of his vampire lineage with an heir of his tribe.
The character makes his entrance in New York on a phantom vessel whose crew has been inexplicably killed, a nod to Nosferatu. The vessel is found by ship inspector Silas Green (the comedian) and his relative Julius Jones (Kadeem Hardison), two of the most humorous personalities in the movie. The inspector then witnesses a dark creature leap from the ship, run into an alley, and transform into a man — like the iconic routine from the longer Black or White video. Groovy Blaxploitation-style music starts, establishing the mood for a film that handily balances horror and humor.
Artistic Goals
Fresh off his last installment in the Nightmare on Elm Street series, the director was keen to break from his horror reputation and make a more hybrid genre film (his subsequent project after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which mined scary conventions for both laughs and genuine scares). Meanwhile, Murphy aimed to subvert expectations by diving into a straight horror based on vampire mythology. The conflict of those creative goals explains 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 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 crime-drama edge to the narrative. One of African American film's most praised performers, she delivers a powerful performance with Payne, a familiar face from the time. Meanwhile, the lead spends most of his screen time with his comedic partner, creating a hilarious Abbott-and-Costello-style duo as Hardison’s Julius Jones becomes Max’s undead lackey. (Watching Julius sink deeper and deeper into his ghoulish role as his skin decays throughout the film is a highlight of how the star's comedic style elevates the comedy and horror, even when utilized by other actors).
Dark Seduction
When Max and Rita’s paths intertwine and the stars appear together, the film reaches its peak — the suspense builds, the fear escalates, and their sinister attraction becomes the focus. Max’s plan is to remove everything Rita has in her life and then swoop in. He kills her roommate, creates conflict in between her and her partner, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque make-up effects to disguise himself as a clergyman and undermine her faith.
As the story progresses, it becomes increasingly Gothic, including metamorphoses and revelations of origins. This results in a third act filled with seduction, as life and eternal punishment are at stake. The movie ends with a stinger suggesting a potential sequel, one that might have materialized had the movie performed better. Vampire in Brooklyn earned a moderate financial success and got mostly negative reviews upon debut. Over time, it found new life as a cult favorite, with reviewers later praising Craven’s direction, the spark between Murphy and Bassett, and its clever mix of frights and fun. The film flashes glimpses of genius that might have shone brighter had everyone involved been aligned on a unified vision, rather than delivering the mixed-genre result viewers saw. Still, Vampire in Brooklyn has rightfully earned its place in the history of Black horror, an underappreciated but influential entry defined by its daring approach and unforgettable performances.
