In 1995, the Horror Maestro and Eddie Murphy Teamed Up for an Forgotten Cinematic Jewel
The director's latest work may have revitalized the idea of African American undead, but the origins of this subgenre date back to the Blaxploitation era. One of the most memorable early examples was the seminal 1972 movie Blacula. In that film, the actor's role is turned by Dracula and burdened with the insulting name “Blacula.” Initially conceived as a caricature, the performer transformed the role into something regal, providing his character an historical origin as Mamuwalde, a noble royal from Africa.
Decades later, the comedic star appeared to draw inspiration from his predecessor, enriching his own character's mythology in the director's take on the African American horror niche: Vampire in Brooklyn. The protagonist Maximillian is a heir of Dracula whose forebears fled to Egypt, and later to the Bermuda Triangle, after being hunted to the edge of annihilation. Vampire in Brooklyn demonstrates that tales of African American undead can be humorous, frightening, and intellectually stimulating simultaneously, earning its place in the hall of fame by balancing all three while respecting the heritage of the category.
Released three decades back on Oct. 27, 1995, Vampire in Brooklyn is now available on Tubi, making it an must-see if you want a little comedy with your frights this spooky season.
An Urban Vampire Story
Similar to the royal character in Coming to America (Murphy's classic from 1988), the vampire lead is pulled to the Big Apple. But instead of traveling from a fictional kingdom to Queens, he arrives from the mysterious region into Brooklyn, aiming to find and secure the survival of his vampire lineage with an heir of his tribe.
Maximillian arrives in New York on a phantom vessel whose crew has been inexplicably killed, a nod to Nosferatu. The vessel is found by harbor official Silas Green (John Witherspoon) and his nephew Julius Jones (the actor), two of the most humorous personalities in the movie. Silas then observes a black wolf jump from the ship, dart into an alley, and morph into a human — like the iconic routine from the longer Black or White video. Groovy Blaxploitation-style music starts, setting the mood for a movie that handily balances horror and humor.
Directorial Ambitions
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 horror tropes for both laughs and real fear). At the same time, Murphy wanted to subvert expectations by diving into a pure scary movie rooted in vampire mythology. The clash of those artistic aims explains the story's detailed beginning of Max's origins and its generally sluggish start. But when the film clicks into high gear, it opens up to its strengths — like its eclectic cast.
The acclaimed actress, as the vampire's love interest, plays detective Rita Veder, whose dynamic 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, she gives a powerful acting alongside her co-star, a familiar face from the time. In the meantime, Murphy spends the majority of the film with his comedic partner, creating a uproarious Abbott-and-Costello-style duo as the actor's Julius Jones becomes the vampire's minion. (Seeing Julius sink deeper and deeper into his macabre part as his appearance deteriorates throughout the film is a highlight of how the star's comedic style elevates the comedy and horror, even when employed by other actors).
Gothic Intrigue
When the two leads meet and the stars appear together, the film hits its stride — the suspense builds, 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 murders her housemate, drives a wedge between her and her love interest, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque make-up effects to masquerade as a preacher and undermine her beliefs.
As the story progresses, it becomes increasingly Gothic, featuring transformations and discoveries of heritage. This results in a final section packed with seduction, as mortality and damnation are at stake. The film concludes with a stinger hinting at a potential sequel, one that could have happened had the film been more successful. Vampire in Brooklyn made a modest box office return and received largely critical reception upon debut. As years passed, it found new life as a cult favorite, with reviewers later applauding the filmmaker's work, the electric chemistry Murphy and Bassett, and its clever mix of horror and comedy. The movie shows moments of brilliance that might have shone brighter had everyone involved been in agreement on a cohesive approach, rather than producing the tonal hodgepodge viewers saw. Nevertheless, Vampire in Brooklyn has rightfully earned its place in the canon of Black horror, an overlooked but influential film defined by its bold style and unforgettable performances.