King of the Zombies (1941), Jean Yarbrough.

Oh yassuh, I be scared!  Well, this one is drenched in the "scaredy Negro" vibe, but if you can tolerate it, King of the Zombies actually has a decent script with enough funny lines to keep it buoyant.  Today's zombies (thank you George Romero) are mainly about identifying slowly approaching formerly dead people and smashing them to a pulp.  It seems in the 40s there was a lot more fascination with the secrets of voodoo:  the chanting, the transference of souls from the dead to the living.  And if they could bring you a drink on a tray, well that was fine too.

King of the Zombies acknowledges the outside world just a little:  this is a wartime flick and its evildoer is an austere Austrian (close enough) doctor, who resides on an unnamed island that is reachable if you get blown of course while aiming for the Bahamas.  Mantan Moreland plays the frightened black American (and Dr Sangre's extreme dislike for him is a little unsettling).  However, not to fear, they also take several whacks at the Irish (literally) as a kind of second-rate superstitious lot.  There's a lot of loose ends (what the what is going on with Mrs Sangre?) but fairly engaging!