In 1995, Wes Craven and Eddie Murphy Collaborated for an Forgotten Cinematic Jewel

Ryan Coogler's latest project may have revitalized the concept of Black vampires, but the origins of this cinematic category date back to the Blaxploitation era. One of the most iconic pioneering films was the 1972 classic Blacula. In that film, the actor's role is bitten by Dracula and cursed with the insulting name “Blacula.” Originally written as a stereotype, the performer transformed the part into something regal, providing his character an 18th-century backstory as Mamuwalde, a noble royal from Africa.

Years afterward, the comedic star appeared to draw inspiration from Marshall, enriching his own protagonist's lore in Wes Craven's interpretation on the Black vampire subgenre: Vampire in Brooklyn. Murphy's 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, frightening, and thought-provoking simultaneously, earning its position in the canon by balancing all three while honoring the heritage of the category.

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

From Zamunda to Brooklyn

Similar to Prince Akeem in Coming to America (the actor's 1988 masterpiece), Maximillian is pulled to the Big Apple. But rather than journeying from Zamunda to Queens, he emerges from the mysterious region into Brooklyn, seeking to locate and ensure the continuation of his vampire lineage with an offspring of his tribe.

The character makes his entrance in New York aboard a ghost ship whose crew has been inexplicably killed, a nod to Nosferatu. The vessel is found by harbor official Silas Green (the comedian) and his nephew Julius Jones (the actor), two of the film's funniest characters. Silas then observes a dark creature jump from the ship, dart into an alley, and morph into a human — reminiscent of Michael Jackson's Panther Dance from the longer Black or White video. Funky Blaxploitation-style music starts, setting the tone for a film that expertly mixes horror and humor.

Artistic Goals

Recently after his final entry in the Nightmare on Elm Street series, Craven was eager to break from his scary movie image and make a more hybrid genre film (his subsequent project after Vampire in Brooklyn was Scream, which mined scary conventions for both laughs and genuine scares). At the same time, Murphy aimed to defy assumptions by diving into a straight horror rooted in vampire mythology. The clash of those creative goals explains the film's exposition-heavy opening of Max's origins and its somewhat slow commencement. But once the film clicks into high gear, it unfolds to its strengths — like its diverse ensemble.

The acclaimed actress, as the vampire's love interest, plays detective Rita Veder, whose relationship with her partner and love interest, detective Justice (the actor), brings a procedural element to the story. Among Black cinema’s most praised performers, Bassett gives a commanding acting alongside her co-star, a well-known actor from the era. Meanwhile, Murphy spends most of his screen time with his comedic partner, forming a uproarious Abbott-and-Costello-style duo as Hardison’s Julius Jones becomes Max’s undead lackey. (Watching Julius sink deeper and deeper into his macabre part as his skin decays during the movie is a standout moment of how Murphy’s usual bag of tricks elevates the humor and fear, even when employed by the cast).

Dark Seduction

When the two leads meet and the stars appear together, the film hits its stride — the tension heightens, the fear escalates, and their sinister attraction takes center stage. The vampire's scheme is to take away everything Rita has in her life and then intervene. He kills her housemate, creates conflict between her and her partner, and even uses Nutty Professor-esque make-up effects to disguise himself as a preacher and weaken her faith.

As the plot unfolds, it becomes increasingly Gothic, featuring transformations and discoveries of heritage. This leads to a third act filled with temptation, as mortality and damnation are at stake. The film concludes with a stinger hinting at a possible follow-up, one that could have happened had the film performed better. Vampire in Brooklyn earned a moderate financial success and got largely critical reception upon release. As years passed, it found new life as a beloved classic, with reviewers later praising Craven’s direction, the spark between the leads, and its sharp blend of frights and fun. The movie shows glimpses of genius that could have been more prominent had everyone involved been aligned on a unified vision, rather than delivering the tonal hodgepodge audiences received. Still, Vampire in Brooklyn has deservedly secured its spot in the history of African American scary movies, an underappreciated but influential film defined by its bold style and unforgettable performances.