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Ryan Coogler's latest 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. One of the most iconic pioneering films was the 1972 classic Blacula. In that motion picture, William Marshall's character is turned by Dracula and cursed with the insulting name “Blacula.” Originally written as a stereotype, Marshall elevated the part into something majestic, giving his character an historical origin as Mamuwalde, a noble royal from Africa.

Years afterward, Eddie Murphy appeared to draw a cue from Marshall, deepening his own protagonist's lore in the director's interpretation on the Black vampire subgenre: 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 edge of annihilation. Vampire in Brooklyn proves that tales of African American undead can be humorous, terrifying, and thought-provoking all at once, earning its place in the canon by balancing all three while respecting the heritage of the category.

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

From Zamunda to Brooklyn

Similar to the royal character in Coming to America (Murphy's classic from 1988), Maximillian is pulled to the Big Apple. But rather than traveling from Zamunda to Queens, he emerges from the mysterious region into Brooklyn, aiming to locate and ensure the survival of his undead bloodline with an offspring of his tribe.

Maximillian arrives in New York on a ghost ship 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 leap from the ship, dart into an alley, and transform into a human — like Michael Jackson's Panther Dance from the longer Black or White video. Groovy 1970s-inspired soundtrack starts, setting the tone for a movie that expertly mixes horror and humor.

Directorial Ambitions

Recently after his final entry in the Nightmare on Elm Street series, the director was keen to move beyond his scary movie image and create a more hybrid genre film (his subsequent project after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which exploited horror tropes for both laughs and genuine scares). Meanwhile, Murphy aimed to defy assumptions by diving into a straight horror rooted in Dracula lore. The clash of those artistic aims explains the story's detailed beginning of Max's origins and its somewhat slow commencement. But once the movie clicks into high gear, it opens up to its strengths — like its diverse ensemble.

Angela Bassett, as the vampire's love interest, plays police officer Rita Veder, whose relationship with her partner and love interest, detective Justice (Allen Payne), brings a procedural element to the story. Among Black cinema’s most praised actresses, she gives a commanding acting alongside her co-star, a well-known actor from the time. Meanwhile, the lead spends the majority of the film with Kadeem Hardison, forming a hilarious Abbott-and-Costello-style duo as Hardison’s Julius Jones becomes the vampire's minion. (Watching Julius descend further into his ghoulish role as his appearance deteriorates during the movie is a standout moment of how the star's comedic style elevates the humor and fear, even when employed by other actors).

Dark Seduction

When Max and Rita’s paths intertwine and Murphy and Bassett appear together, the film reaches its peak — the tension heightens, the fear escalates, and their darkly seductive chemistry becomes the focus. Max’s plan is to take away everything Rita has in her life and then intervene. He murders her housemate, creates conflict between her and her partner, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque prosthetics to masquerade as a preacher and weaken her faith.

As the plot progresses, it becomes increasingly Gothic, including metamorphoses and discoveries of heritage. This leads to a third act filled with temptation, as mortality and damnation hang in the balance. The film ends with a teaser suggesting a possible follow-up, one that could have happened had the movie been more successful. Vampire in Brooklyn earned a modest box office return and got largely critical reception upon release. As years passed, it gained popularity as a cult favorite, with critics later praising Craven’s direction, the spark between the leads, and its clever mix of frights and fun. The movie flashes moments of brilliance that could have been more prominent had all participants been aligned on a unified vision, rather than producing the tonal hodgepodge viewers saw. Still, Vampire in Brooklyn has rightfully earned its place in the canon of African American scary movies, an underappreciated but influential film defined by its daring approach and unforgettable performances.