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The director's latest work may have revitalized the idea of African American undead, but the origins of this cinematic category trace back to the Blaxploitation era. Among the most iconic early examples was the 1972 classic Blacula. In that film, William Marshall's character is bitten by Dracula and cursed with the demeaning name “Blacula.” Originally written as a caricature, Marshall transformed the role into something regal, giving his figure an 18th-century backstory as Mamuwalde, a proud African prince.

Years afterward, Eddie Murphy appeared to draw inspiration from his predecessor, deepening his own character's mythology in Wes Craven'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 humorous, terrifying, and intellectually stimulating all at once, securing its place in the canon by balancing all three while respecting the subgenre's legacy.

Released 30 years ago 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 frights this Halloween.

A Tale of Two Cities

Similar to Prince Akeem in Coming to America (the actor's classic from 1988), the vampire lead is pulled to New York City. But instead of journeying from Zamunda to Queens, he emerges from the Bermuda Triangle into Brooklyn, seeking to locate and ensure the continuation of his undead bloodline with an offspring of his clan.

The character makes his entrance in New York aboard a phantom vessel whose crew has been inexplicably killed, a homage to Nosferatu. The vessel is found by ship inspector Silas Green (John Witherspoon) and his relative Julius Jones (the actor), two of the film's funniest characters. The inspector then witnesses a black wolf leap from the ship, dart into an alley, and transform into a man — like Michael Jackson's Panther Dance from the extended Black or White video. Funky Blaxploitation-style music starts, setting the tone for a movie that expertly mixes scares and laughs.

Artistic Goals

Fresh off his final entry in the iconic horror series, the director was keen to move beyond his horror reputation and make a more blended comedy (his next film after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which mined horror tropes for both laughs and real fear). Meanwhile, the star aimed to defy assumptions by diving into a straight horror based on Dracula lore. The conflict 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 eclectic cast.

The acclaimed actress, as the vampire's love interest, plays police officer Rita Veder, whose relationship with her partner and love interest, detective Justice (the actor), brings a procedural element to the narrative. Among Black cinema’s most acclaimed performers, Bassett delivers a commanding performance with Payne, a well-known actor from the era. Meanwhile, the lead spends most of his screen time with his comedic partner, creating a uproarious Abbott-and-Costello-style duo as Hardison’s Julius Jones becomes Max’s undead lackey. (Seeing Julius sink deeper and deeper into his ghoulish role as his skin decays throughout the film is a standout moment of how Murphy’s usual bag of tricks enhances the comedy and horror, even when employed by the cast).

Dark Seduction

When the two leads meet and Murphy and Bassett finally share the screen, the film hits its stride — the tension heightens, the fear escalates, and their darkly seductive chemistry takes center stage. Max’s plan is to take away everything Rita has in her life and then intervene. He kills her housemate, drives a wedge in between her and her love interest, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque make-up effects to disguise himself as a preacher and undermine her faith.

As the story unfolds, it becomes more darkly romantic, featuring 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 suggesting a potential sequel, one that might have materialized had the film been more successful. Vampire in Brooklyn made a moderate financial success and got mostly negative reviews upon debut. Over time, it found new life as a cult favorite, with critics later praising Craven’s direction, the spark between Murphy and Bassett, and its sharp blend of frights and fun. The movie flashes moments of brilliance that could have been more prominent had all participants been aligned on a cohesive approach, rather than delivering the tonal hodgepodge audiences received. Still, Vampire in Brooklyn has rightfully earned its spot in the canon of Black horror, an underappreciated but impactful film characterized by its daring approach and memorable acting.