30 Years Ago, the Horror Maestro and the Comedy Legend Collaborated for an Underrated Horror Masterpiece
Ryan Coogler's recent project may have breathed new life into the concept of Black vampires, but the roots of this cinematic category date back to the Blaxploitation era. Among the most memorable early examples was the seminal 1972 movie Blacula. In that motion picture, William Marshall's character is bitten by Dracula and burdened with the insulting name “Blacula.” Originally written as a caricature, the performer elevated the part into something regal, giving his figure an historical origin as Mamuwalde, a noble royal from Africa.
Decades later, the comedic star seemed to take inspiration from Marshall, deepening his own character's mythology in Wes Craven's take on the Black vampire subgenre: Vampire in Brooklyn. Murphy's Maximillian is a heir of Dracula whose forebears escaped to Egypt, and later to the Bermuda Triangle, after being persecuted to the edge of annihilation. Vampire in Brooklyn demonstrates that tales of African American undead can be funny, frightening, and thought-provoking all at once, securing its place in the canon by balancing all three while respecting the subgenre's legacy.
Debuted three decades back on Oct. 27, 1995, Vampire in Brooklyn is now available on a popular platform, making it an essential watch if you want a little comedy with your scares this spooky season.
A Tale of Two Cities
Like Prince Akeem in Coming to America (Murphy's 1988 masterpiece), Maximillian is drawn to the Big Apple. But rather than journeying from Zamunda to Queens, he arrives from the mysterious region into Brooklyn, seeking to find and secure the continuation of his vampire lineage with an offspring of his tribe.
The character makes his entrance in New York on a ghost ship whose crew has been inexplicably killed, a homage to Nosferatu. The vessel is found by ship inspector Silas Green (John Witherspoon) and his nephew Julius Jones (Kadeem Hardison), two of the film's funniest characters. Silas then witnesses a black wolf leap from the ship, dart into an alley, and morph into a man — like Michael Jackson's Panther Dance from the extended Black or White video. Funky 1970s-inspired soundtrack starts, setting the mood for a film that expertly mixes horror and humor.
Artistic Goals
Fresh off his final entry in the Nightmare on Elm Street series, the director was keen to move beyond his horror reputation and create a more blended comedy (his next film after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which exploited scary conventions for both comedy and real fear). At the same time, Murphy wanted to defy assumptions by venturing into a straight horror based on Dracula lore. The conflict of those creative goals explains the film's exposition-heavy opening of Max's origins and its somewhat slow commencement. But once the movie clicks into high gear, it unfolds to its assets — like its diverse ensemble.
The acclaimed actress, as the vampire's love interest, plays detective Rita Veder, whose relationship with her colleague and romantic lead, detective Justice (Allen Payne), brings a crime-drama edge to the narrative. One of Black cinema’s most acclaimed actresses, Bassett gives a commanding acting alongside her co-star, a familiar face from the era. Meanwhile, Murphy spends the majority of the film with Kadeem Hardison, creating a hilarious classic comedy pair as Hardison’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 highlight of how the star's comedic style elevates 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 film reaches its peak — the suspense builds, the fear escalates, and their darkly seductive chemistry takes center stage. Max’s plan is to remove everything Rita has in her life and then swoop in. He murders her housemate, drives a wedge in between her and her partner, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque prosthetics to masquerade as a clergyman and undermine her faith.
As the story progresses, it becomes more darkly romantic, including metamorphoses and revelations of origins. This leads to a third act packed with temptation, as life and eternal punishment hang in the balance. The film ends with a teaser hinting at a possible follow-up, one that might have materialized had the film been more successful. Vampire in Brooklyn earned a moderate financial success and received mostly negative reviews upon release. Over time, it gained popularity as a cult favorite, with critics later applauding Craven’s direction, the electric chemistry the leads, and its clever mix of frights and fun. The movie shows moments of brilliance that could have been more prominent had everyone involved been aligned on a unified vision, rather than delivering the mixed-genre result audiences received. Still, Vampire in Brooklyn has rightfully earned its place in the history of Black horror, an underappreciated but impactful entry defined by its bold style and unforgettable performances.