When Bureaucracy Meets the Supernatural
Hong Kong has always done horror differently—fast, funny, and full of heart. Vampire Cleanup Department (救僵清道夫) continues that proud, weird tradition with a film that feels like a love letter to the city’s long history of hopping vampires, Lam Ching-ying’s iconic Taoist priest, and the kind of slapstick charm you only get when the undead meet office politics. Directed by Yan Pak-wing and Chiu Sin Hang, this 2017 horror-comedy manages to be equal parts absurd, heartfelt, and surprisingly touching.
If you’ve ever wondered what it would look like if Men in Black, Ghostbusters, and a Hong Kong soap opera had a baby—and that baby wore a talisman on its forehead to stop from biting people—this is your movie.
The Setup: Cleanliness Is Next to Godliness
The premise alone deserves applause for sheer creativity. Hidden beneath Hong Kong’s Department of Sanitation is a top-secret organization called the Vampire Cleanup Department (VCD)—a team of aging vampire hunters disguised as garbage collectors. Think of it as if your local waste management crew also handled exorcisms between trash pickups.
Our unlikely hero is Tim Cheung (Babyjohn Choi), an awkward young man mocked by his classmates as “rubbish bin” because his late parents worked in sanitation. What he doesn’t know is that his folks were actually part of the city’s anti-vampire elite, and that his blood contains a special resistance to the undead virus.
When Tim gets bitten during a vampire attack but mysteriously survives, the VCD recruits him faster than you can say “biohazard bag.” Soon, he’s training under the grizzled Agent Chau (Chin Siu-ho, who brings glorious martial arts gravitas) and a cast of eccentric mentors who look like they’ve seen more hopping corpses than tax forms.
It’s a ridiculous setup, but it works—mostly because the movie leans into its silliness with the confidence of a Taoist priest wielding a glowing talisman.
Summer Lovin’, Had Me a Fang
While the film’s premise alone could’ve carried it, Vampire Cleanup Department ups the ante by adding one of horror cinema’s strangest (and most endearing) romances. During a mission gone wrong, Tim encounters a female vampire named Summer (Lin Min Chen), who once lived in 1840s Hong Kong and was buried alive as a ghost bride.
After accidentally biting Tim (which in this world apparently counts as the supernatural equivalent of a kiss), Summer reverts from a rotting ghoul into a doe-eyed young woman. What follows is a sweet, awkward, and slightly necrophilic love story between man and vampire. She learns to hover on a skateboard to hide her hopping, he teaches her how to eat pig’s blood curd instead of people—honestly, it’s the most wholesome thing to ever come out of the undead genre.
Their chemistry is weirdly charming. Summer, with her childlike curiosity and tragic past, gives the film its emotional core, while Tim’s earnest bumbling turns every romantic scene into an adorable disaster. Picture Edward Scissorhandsmeets Train to Busan—but with more pig blood and less trauma.
Bureaucrats, Bureaucracy, and Bloodsuckers
Of course, every government agency needs a villain, and here it’s Inspector Chu (Jiro Lee), a smug police officer who wants to replace the VCD with a fancy new “anti-vampire vaccine.” Like all good bureaucratic antagonists, he’s convinced science and paperwork can solve everything—including ancient curses.
Chu’s misguided quest for progress leads to predictable chaos: the resurrection of the monstrous Vampire King, a centuries-old dry corpse who looks like someone left Dracula out in the sun too long. What follows is part office rebellion, part undead apocalypse, and part touching story about legacy, family, and duty.
The VCD, once seen as obsolete, must rise again—armed with talismans, rope darts, and the kind of grit only found in Hong Kong action cinema.
Action That Kicks (and Hops)
One thing the film absolutely nails is its action. The fight choreography is crisp, playful, and rooted in old-school jiangshi lore. Watching seasoned veterans like Chin Siu-ho (a student of legendary Lam Ching-ying himself) face off against hopping vampires feels like a cinematic resurrection of 1980s Hong Kong horror glory.
There’s a wonderful physicality to the action—the kind of mix of martial arts and wire-fu that balances comedy with awe. Every kick, punch, and paper charm feels like a deliberate callback to the golden era of Mr. Vampire films, right down to the awkwardly endearing special effects.
Sure, the CGI looks about as convincing as a PlayStation 2 cutscene, but it doesn’t matter. The charm is in the craft—the practical stunts, the wirework, the chaotic energy of men in uniform trying to mop up literal monsters.
Humor With Heart
Despite the corpses and kung fu, Vampire Cleanup Department is really a comedy about misfits finding purpose. It’s full of delightful absurdities: vampires who hop because their limbs have rigor mortis, a grandma who mistakes a vampire for her grandson’s girlfriend, and a hero whose biggest asset is his ability to make undead women fall in love with him.
But beneath the goofiness lies genuine warmth. The relationship between Tim and his dementia-stricken grandmother is unexpectedly moving. She’s the heart of the story—grounding the supernatural chaos with emotional reality. When she blesses Summer as Tim’s girlfriend, it’s oddly beautiful, even if one of them technically has a body temperature of “morgue.”
The humor is never cruel or cynical—it’s nostalgic, affectionate, and self-aware. It laughs with the old-school vampire genre, not at it.
A Love Letter to Lam Ching-ying
It’s impossible to talk about this film without mentioning its dedication to Lam Ching-ying, the Taoist priest icon who defined the hopping vampire genre. The directors treat his legacy with reverence, not imitation. They don’t try to recreate him—they honor him by showing how his influence still “hops” across generations.
From the amulet spells to the Taoist chanting to the bamboo swords, the film feels like a cinematic séance—a modern thank-you note to the man who made exorcising vampires cool.
The Ending: Bittersweet and Brilliantly Bonkers
In true Hong Kong fashion, the film ends with equal parts tragedy and reincarnation. Summer sacrifices herself to save Tim, burning away in sunlight rather than drink his blood. It’s a surprisingly emotional moment for a movie that also features a vampire on a hoverboard.
But just when you’re about to tear up, the film gives you a wink and a grin: Tim returns to the VCD, which is now expanded, modernized, and thriving—and meets a new recruit named Winter, who looks exactly like Summer.
Reincarnation? Coincidence? Romantic fan service? The movie doesn’t say, and frankly, it doesn’t need to. It’s the perfect campy ending to a story that never took itself too seriously.
Final Thoughts: A Bloody Delight
Vampire Cleanup Department isn’t just a film—it’s a resurrection. It brings back the charm of Hong Kong’s classic vampire comedies with a fresh coat of digital paint and a heart full of nostalgia. It’s silly but sincere, chaotic but confident—a movie that believes even the undead deserve love and laughter.
Sure, it’s cheesy. Sure, some of the CGI looks like it was rendered on a toaster. But who cares? The energy, the heart, and the sheer joy of watching a janitorial task force battle vampires make it worth every minute.
In a world full of grim, self-serious horror, Vampire Cleanup Department dares to ask: what if fighting the undead was just another day at the office?
It’s the rare horror-comedy that earns both your laughs and your tears—then sweeps up after itself, talisman in one hand and mop in the other.
If Lam Ching-ying’s spirit really is watching, I like to think he’s smiling. Probably while hopping.
