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The director's recent project may have breathed new life into the concept of African American undead, but the roots of this subgenre trace back to the 1970s cultural movement. One of the most memorable pioneering films was the seminal 1972 movie Blacula. In that film, William Marshall's character is bitten by Dracula and cursed with the demeaning name “Blacula.” Originally written as a caricature, the performer transformed the part into something regal, giving his figure an historical origin as Mamuwalde, a noble royal from Africa.

Decades later, Eddie Murphy appeared to draw inspiration from Marshall, enriching his own protagonist's lore in the director's interpretation on the African American horror niche: Vampire in Brooklyn. Murphy's Maximillian is a heir of Dracula whose ancestors 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 humorous, terrifying, and intellectually stimulating simultaneously, securing its place in the hall of fame by juggling all three while honoring the subgenre's legacy.

Debuted 30 years ago on October 27th, 1995, Vampire in Brooklyn is currently streaming on Tubi, making it an essential watch if you need a little comedy with your frights this spooky season.

A Tale of Two Cities

Similar to Prince Akeem in Coming to America (Murphy's 1988 masterpiece), the vampire lead is drawn 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 aboard a phantom vessel whose sailors has been inexplicably killed, a homage to Nosferatu. The vessel is discovered by ship inspector Silas Green (the comedian) and his nephew Julius Jones (the actor), two of the most humorous personalities in the movie. The inspector then observes a black wolf jump 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. Groovy Blaxploitation-style music kicks in, establishing the tone for a film that expertly mixes scares and laughs.

Directorial Ambitions

Recently after his last installment in the iconic horror series, Craven was keen to break from his scary movie image and make a more hybrid genre film (his next film after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which mined horror tropes for both laughs and real fear). At the same time, Murphy wanted to subvert expectations by venturing into a straight horror rooted in vampire mythology. The clash of those creative goals accounts for the story's detailed beginning of Max's origins and its somewhat slow commencement. But when the movie clicks into high gear, it opens up to its assets — like its eclectic cast.

The acclaimed actress, as the object of Maximillian’s affection, plays detective Rita Veder, whose dynamic with her colleague and romantic lead, detective Justice (Allen Payne), brings a crime-drama edge to the narrative. Among Black cinema’s most acclaimed performers, Bassett delivers a powerful acting alongside her co-star, a familiar face from the time. In the meantime, the lead spends most of his screen time with Kadeem Hardison, 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 during the movie is a highlight of how the star's comedic style elevates the comedy and horror, even when utilized by other actors).

Dark Seduction

When the two leads meet and the stars appear together, the movie hits its stride — the tension heightens, the fear escalates, and their sinister attraction takes center stage. Max’s plan is to take away all Rita has in her life and then swoop in. He kills her roommate, creates conflict in between her and her love interest, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque make-up effects to masquerade as a clergyman and undermine her beliefs.

As the story progresses, it becomes more darkly romantic, including metamorphoses and discoveries of heritage. This leads to a final section packed with temptation, as mortality and damnation are at stake. The film ends with a stinger hinting at a potential sequel, one that might have materialized had the film been more successful. Vampire in Brooklyn earned a moderate financial success and got largely critical reception upon debut. As years passed, it found new life as a beloved classic, with reviewers later applauding Craven’s direction, the electric chemistry the leads, and its sharp blend of horror and comedy. The movie shows moments of brilliance that might have shone brighter had all participants been aligned on a unified vision, rather than producing the tonal hodgepodge audiences received. Still, Vampire in Brooklyn has rightfully earned its place in the canon of Black horror, an underappreciated but influential entry defined by its daring approach and unforgettable performances.