What We Do In The Shadows Series

Imagine sharing a house with roommates who are… well, ancient. Not just old, but like, really old. And also, vampires. That’s pretty much the setup for What We Do In The Shadows, the TV show that’s like a mockumentary for the undead. It’s filmed as if a documentary crew somehow managed to get access to their centuries-old mansion and follow their daily (or rather, nightly) lives.

You’ve got Nandor the Relentless, a former warlord who’s still trying to figure out modern life. He’s the unofficial leader, though his leadership often involves bossing around his much younger (but still centuries old) vampire housemates.

Then there’s Laszlo Cravensworth, a flamboyant and delightfully depraved Englishman. Laszlo is all about the finer things in life – wine, women, and wailing about how the world has gone downhill since his day. He’s got a passion for creating elaborate “hats” and a truly impressive knack for getting into trouble.

Nadja of Antipaxos is the fiery and passionate one. She’s a formidable force, prone to dramatic pronouncements and intense bursts of anger, usually directed at anyone who gets in her way or displeases her. Her longing for her lost human lover, Gregor, is a recurring, and often hilariously awkward, theme.

Rounding out the main vampire trio is Colin Robinson, an energy vampire. This guy doesn’t feed on blood; he feeds on boredom. He drains the life out of people by talking about mundane things, like the texture of different types of carpet or the intricacies of office printer jams. It’s a uniquely modern and utterly relatable form of torment.

And let’s not forget Guillermo de la Cruz, Nandor’s long-suffering familiar. Guillermo is the everyman in this chaotic household, trying to keep the vampires in line, manage their errands, and secretly harbors a desire to become a vampire himself. His journey is one of the most surprisingly heartwarming aspects of the show.

The humor in What We Do In The Shadows comes from the clash of ancient vampire sensibilities with the absurdities of contemporary life. They struggle with things like Wi-Fi, dating apps, and even the concept of "going out" in a way that makes sense for creatures who can be instantly turned to dust by sunlight.

You’ll see them try to navigate the local vampire council, a surprisingly bureaucratic and hilariously mundane organization. Imagine HOA meetings, but with more stakes and less sensible shoes.

One of the most endearing parts is how these immortal beings, who have seen empires rise and fall, can get so caught up in petty squabbles. They’ll argue over who left the dirty dishes in the sink, or who’s hogging the best coffin. It’s these little domestic dramas that make them feel strangely human, despite their fangs and nocturnal habits.

Nandor, with his deep voice and regal pronouncements, often tries to enforce rules, but they rarely stick. He’s the dad of the group, constantly reminding everyone about chores and responsibilities, usually to no avail.

Laszlo, on the other hand, is more about embracing the chaos. He’s often found in his “bat cave” (which is really just a dusty basement) engaged in some peculiar artistic endeavor or reminiscing about his wilder days as a notorious rake.

Nadja has a fierce loyalty to her friends, but her temper can be legendary. She’s also surprisingly susceptible to romantic notions, even if her interpretations of love are a bit… intense.

And then there’s Colin Robinson. He’s not malicious, just… draining. You’ll find yourself genuinely feeling sorry for the humans he encounters, trapped in a conversation about the nutritional value of different types of bread.

Guillermo’s story is where a lot of the heart comes from. He’s a loyal and capable assistant, but he’s also an outsider looking in. His dreams of immortality and his growing skills as a vampire hunter are a fantastic contrast to his usual subservient role.

The show excels at taking familiar vampire tropes and turning them on their head. Instead of terrifying creatures of the night, they’re more like eccentric elderly neighbors who just happen to require blood. It’s this subversion that makes it so fresh and funny.

You’ll see them attempt to blend in with human society, with predictably disastrous (and hilarious) results. Their attempts at social etiquette are often cringe-worthy, but always entertaining.

The interactions between the vampires are the core of the show’s magic. Despite their often selfish and monstrous natures, there’s a genuine, albeit bizarre, affection between them. They bicker, they complain, but when it counts, they sort of have each other’s backs.

Think of it as a very, very dysfunctional family sitcom, but with significantly more neck-biting and less worry about rent. They’re stuck together, for eternity, and they have to make it work.

The brilliance lies in its commitment to the premise. They fully embrace the idea of these ancient creatures trying to live mundane lives. You’ll witness them awkwardly try to vote, or get frustrated by the limitations of their powers in modern settings.

One episode might involve them trying to throw a party for other vampires, leading to a chaotic mix of supernatural beings with vastly different social skills. Another could see them dealing with a supernatural infestation in their own home, which is treated with the same exasperation as a leaky faucet.

The character development, especially for Guillermo, is a significant part of the show’s appeal. He’s the audience’s anchor, the one we can most relate to as he navigates this world of immortal oddities. His burgeoning powers and his moral dilemmas are surprisingly compelling.

You might even find yourself feeling a strange sort of empathy for them. They’re stuck in their ways, often out of touch, but they’re also trying their best (in their own unique way) to get by. It’s a testament to the writing and the performances.

The world-building is subtle but effective. It hints at a larger supernatural society with its own rules, hierarchies, and internal politics, all treated with the same dry wit and absurdity.

It’s the kind of show that doesn’t take itself too seriously, which is precisely why it’s so enjoyable. It’s pure escapism, a delightful dive into a world where the mundane meets the monstrous, and the results are nothing short of hilarious.

So, if you’re looking for something that’s witty, absurd, and surprisingly charming, give What We Do In The Shadows a watch. You might just find yourself rooting for these ancient, blood-sucking, and utterly ridiculous roommates.

It’s a show that proves even creatures of the night can have their own mundane problems and relatable struggles. And sometimes, the funniest things in life (or undeath) are the little, everyday annoyances.

The humor is often observational, poking fun at the inherent silliness of vampire lore when viewed through a modern lens. Their inability to adapt is a constant source of comedy.

And the heart? It’s in the unexpected bonds they form, the grudging respect they develop, and the quiet moments of camaraderie that shine through the chaos. It’s a testament to the idea that even the most monstrous can find a place to belong.

Ultimately, it's a show that celebrates the oddities of life, the challenges of cohabitation, and the enduring, albeit bizarre, nature of friendship. You’ll laugh, you might cringe, and you’ll definitely find yourself addicted to the awkward antics of these vampire housemates.

The performances are key to making this work. Each actor fully embodies their ancient character, bringing a unique comedic flair that makes every line and every reaction a delight. They sell the absurdity with perfect deadpan delivery.

And the sheer creativity in the storylines! From dealing with a rival vampire nest to attending a paranormal convention, there’s always something new and delightfully strange happening in their lives.

It’s a show that reminds us that even after centuries of existence, there are still new and hilarious ways to navigate the world, especially when you’re a vampire trying to pay your electricity bill.