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Ryan Coogler's recent work may have breathed new life into the concept of African American undead, but the origins of this cinematic category trace back to the 1970s cultural movement. Among the most memorable early examples was the seminal 1972 movie Blacula. In that motion picture, the actor's character is bitten by Dracula and burdened with the demeaning name “Blacula.” Initially conceived as a caricature, Marshall transformed the role into something regal, providing his figure an historical origin as Mamuwalde, a noble royal from Africa.

Decades later, the comedic star seemed to take a cue from his predecessor, enriching his own protagonist's lore in Wes Craven's take on the Black vampire subgenre: Vampire in Brooklyn. The protagonist Maximillian is a descendant of Dracula whose forebears escaped to Egypt, and later to the Bermuda Triangle, after being hunted to the edge of annihilation. Vampire in Brooklyn proves that tales of African American undead can be funny, terrifying, and thought-provoking simultaneously, securing its position in the hall of fame by juggling all three while honoring the subgenre's legacy.

Debuted three decades back on October 27th, 1995, Vampire in Brooklyn is currently streaming on Tubi, making it an essential watch if you want a dash of humor with your scares this Halloween.

From Zamunda to Brooklyn

Similar to Prince Akeem in Coming to America (Murphy's 1988 masterpiece), Maximillian is pulled to New York City. But rather than journeying from Zamunda to Queens, he emerges from the Bermuda Triangle into Brooklyn, aiming to find and secure the survival of his undead bloodline with an heir of his clan.

The character makes his entrance in New York aboard a phantom vessel whose sailors has been inexplicably killed, a homage to Nosferatu. The ship is found by harbor official Silas Green (the comedian) and his relative Julius Jones (the actor), two of the film's funniest characters. Silas then witnesses a dark creature jump from the ship, run into an alley, and morph into a man — reminiscent of the iconic routine from the extended Black or White video. Groovy Blaxploitation-style music starts, establishing the mood for a movie that expertly mixes scares and laughs.

Artistic Goals

Fresh off his final entry in the iconic horror series, Craven was eager to move beyond his horror reputation and create a more blended comedy (his next film after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which mined horror tropes for both comedy and genuine scares). At the same time, Murphy wanted 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 generally sluggish start. But once the film hits its stride, it unfolds to its assets — like its eclectic cast.

Angela Bassett, as the vampire's love interest, plays police officer Rita Veder, whose dynamic with her colleague and romantic lead, detective Justice (Allen Payne), adds a crime-drama edge to the narrative. One of African American film's most acclaimed performers, Bassett gives a commanding acting with her co-star, a familiar face from the era. Meanwhile, Murphy spends most of his screen time with his comedic partner, forming a uproarious classic comedy pair as the actor's Julius Jones becomes Max’s undead lackey. (Watching Julius sink deeper and deeper into his ghoulish role as his appearance deteriorates during the movie is a highlight of how Murphy’s usual bag of tricks enhances the humor and fear, even when utilized by the cast).

Dark Seduction

When Max and Rita’s paths intertwine and the stars finally share the screen, the movie reaches its peak — the suspense builds, the scares intensify, and their darkly seductive chemistry takes center stage. The vampire's scheme is to take away everything Rita has in her life and then swoop in. He kills her housemate, drives a wedge in between her and her partner, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque make-up effects to disguise himself as a clergyman and undermine her beliefs.

As the story unfolds, it becomes increasingly Gothic, including metamorphoses and discoveries of heritage. This leads to a third act filled with temptation, as mortality and damnation are at stake. The movie concludes with a teaser suggesting a possible follow-up, one that could have happened had the movie performed better. Vampire in Brooklyn made a moderate financial success and received largely critical reception upon debut. Over time, it found new life as a beloved classic, with critics later applauding the filmmaker's work, the spark between Murphy and Bassett, and its sharp blend of horror and comedy. The movie shows glimpses of genius that might have shone brighter had all participants been in agreement on a unified vision, rather than delivering the tonal hodgepodge audiences received. Nevertheless, Vampire in Brooklyn has deservedly secured its place in the canon of African American scary movies, an underappreciated but impactful entry characterized by its bold style and unforgettable performances.