The director's recent project may have breathed new life into the concept of African American undead, but the origins of this cinematic category trace back to the Blaxploitation era. One of the most memorable pioneering films was the seminal 1972 movie Blacula. In that film, William Marshall's character is turned by Dracula and cursed with the demeaning name “Blacula.” Originally written as a caricature, the performer transformed the part into something majestic, providing his character an historical origin as Mamuwalde, a noble royal from Africa.
Years afterward, Eddie Murphy appeared to draw inspiration from his predecessor, enriching his own character's mythology in the director's take on the Black vampire subgenre: Vampire in Brooklyn. Murphy's Maximillian is a heir 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, terrifying, and intellectually stimulating simultaneously, earning its place in the hall of fame by juggling all three while respecting the heritage of the category.
Debuted three decades back on Oct. 27, 1995, Vampire in Brooklyn is now available on a popular platform, making it an must-see if you need a dash of humor with your frights this Halloween.
From Zamunda to Brooklyn
Similar to Prince Akeem in Coming to America (Murphy's 1988 masterpiece), the vampire lead is pulled to the Big Apple. But rather than traveling from a fictional kingdom to Queens, he arrives from the Bermuda Triangle into Brooklyn, aiming to locate and ensure the continuation of his vampire lineage with an heir of his clan.
The character makes his entrance in New York on a phantom vessel whose crew has been mysteriously slaughtered, a homage to Nosferatu. The ship is found by ship inspector Silas Green (the comedian) and his nephew Julius Jones (Kadeem Hardison), two of the film's funniest characters. Silas then observes a dark creature jump from the ship, dart into an alley, and transform into a human — reminiscent of the iconic routine from the extended Black or White video. Funky 1970s-inspired soundtrack starts, establishing the tone for a film that expertly mixes scares and laughs.
Artistic Goals
Fresh off his final entry in the Nightmare on Elm Street series, the director was keen 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 comedy and genuine scares). Meanwhile, the star wanted to defy assumptions by venturing into a straight horror rooted in vampire mythology. The clash of those artistic aims explains the film's exposition-heavy opening of Max's origins and its somewhat slow commencement. But when the film hits its stride, it unfolds to its strengths — like its diverse ensemble.
The acclaimed actress, as the vampire's love interest, plays police officer Rita Veder, whose relationship with her partner and love interest, detective Justice (Allen Payne), adds a crime-drama edge to the narrative. Among African American film's most acclaimed actresses, she delivers a powerful acting with Payne, a well-known actor from the time. Meanwhile, the lead spends the majority of the film with Kadeem Hardison, forming a uproarious classic comedy pair as the actor's Julius Jones becomes Max’s undead lackey. (Seeing Julius sink deeper and deeper into his macabre part as his appearance deteriorates during the movie is a standout moment of how Murphy’s usual bag of tricks enhances the comedy and horror, even when utilized by the cast).
Gothic Intrigue
When Max and Rita’s paths intertwine and the stars finally share the screen, the movie reaches its peak — the suspense builds, the fear escalates, and their sinister attraction becomes the focus. The vampire's scheme is to take away all Rita has in her life and then swoop in. He kills her housemate, creates conflict between her and her partner, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque make-up effects to disguise himself as a preacher and undermine her faith.
As the plot progresses, it becomes increasingly Gothic, including transformations and discoveries of heritage. This results in a final section filled with temptation, as life and eternal punishment hang in the balance. The film ends with a stinger hinting at a possible follow-up, one that could have happened had the film performed better. Vampire in Brooklyn made a modest box office return and received mostly negative reviews upon debut. Over time, it found new life as a cult favorite, with reviewers later praising Craven’s direction, the electric chemistry Murphy and Bassett, and its clever mix of horror and comedy. The movie flashes moments of brilliance 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 rightfully earned its place in the canon of Black horror, an underappreciated but influential entry characterized by its bold style and memorable acting.
