Carol What We Do In The Shadows
You know how sometimes you just want to curl up on the sofa with a cup of tea and watch something that’s completely ridiculous, but also, like, relatable? That’s where What We Do In The Shadows comes in. Forget your brooding, cape-swirling vampires. These guys are more like your slightly dysfunctional roommates who happen to live forever and have a serious aversion to sunlight. Seriously, it’s like watching that one friend who always has a dramatic story, but instead of “my cat threw up on the rug again,” it’s more along the lines of “I accidentally turned my familiar into a goblin again.”
Think about it. We all have those moments where we feel a bit out of sync with the rest of the world, right? Like when you’re trying to figure out how to use a new piece of tech, or when you’re attempting to navigate a social situation that just feels…awkward. Well, imagine that, but you've been alive for 800 years, and the world has basically evolved into a giant, confusing, TikTok-filled enigma. That’s pretty much the vibe of Nandor, our wonderfully dramatic vampire overlord. He’s like that older relative who still thinks pagers are the height of technology and gets genuinely flustered by a smartphone. You can practically hear him muttering, “Where is the button for summoning the internet?”
And then there’s Laszlo. Oh, Laszlo. He’s the ultimate embodiment of the “old soul” who also happens to have a penchant for… shall we say, eccentric hobbies. Think of that guy at the pub who’s always got a wild tale about his youth, complete with questionable decisions and a twinkle in his eye. Laszlo’s tales, however, often involve seducing historical figures, building elaborate contraptions out of household items, and a general disregard for the common decency that the rest of us mortals adhere to. He’s the guy who’d probably try to charm your grandmother with a sonnet, then steal her dentures for a crafting project. It's that blend of roguish charm and utter obliviousness that makes him so darn lovable. And his endless pursuit of new experiences, even if they’re a bit… unsavory, is something we can all relate to, in our own, less immortal ways.
Nadja, bless her fiery soul, is the queen of the dramatic flair. She’s like that friend who always has an opinion, and isn’t afraid to share it, often with a lot of gesturing and maybe a dash of spectral influence. Her passion is palpable, whether she’s lamenting a lost love from centuries past or getting into a petty feud with a local ghost. It’s that intensity, that unwavering commitment to her emotions, that’s both hilarious and strangely inspiring. We’ve all had those moments where we feel something so strongly, whether it’s indignation about a poorly made latte or joy at finding a perfectly ripe avocado. Nadja just cranks that dial up to eleven and adds a touch of vengeful energy.
And who could forget Colin Robinson? He’s the literal embodiment of that one person who just… drains your energy. Not in a malicious way, necessarily, but in a way that makes you want to take a nap just from listening to them. He’s the king of the mundane, the patron saint of tedious conversations about carpet patterns or the subtle nuances of bureaucracy. You know that feeling after you’ve been stuck talking to someone at a party for too long, and you feel like your soul has been gently siphoned out through your earlobes? That’s Colin Robinson’s superpower. And the funniest part is, he’s perfectly happy doing it! He’s like the human equivalent of a lukewarm cup of tea – not offensive, just… there, and slowly making you feel a little less alive. We’ve all met our own little Colin Robinsons, haven’t we? The ones who can talk about the weather for an hour and make you question all your life choices that led you to that exact conversation.
Then there’s Guillermo, the long-suffering familiar who’s basically the put-upon younger sibling of the group. He’s the one who’s always cleaning up the messes, trying to keep the vampires from accidentally revealing themselves to the world, and secretly practicing his vampire-slaying skills. He’s like the overworked intern who’s constantly having to tell their chaotic bosses that, no, you can’t just “hypnotize” the delivery person into giving you free pizza. His journey from terrified servant to reluctant vampire hunter is just gold. It’s that relatable struggle of trying to manage a group of larger-than-life personalities while also trying to get ahead in your own life. We’ve all been there, trying to herd cats, or perhaps, in Guillermo’s case, trying to herd ancient, blood-sucking creatures who have the emotional maturity of toddlers.
The beauty of What We Do In The Shadows is how it takes these ancient, mythical creatures and grounds them in the most mundane, everyday problems. They bicker over chores, they get annoyed by noisy neighbors (or, you know, noisy ghosts), and they’re constantly trying to figure out the latest trends, usually failing spectacularly. It’s like watching your own family, but with fangs and a lot more dramatic pronouncements about the state of their capes. You’ve got Nandor trying to navigate online dating, which is basically a minefield for anyone, let alone someone who hasn’t had a meaningful romantic interaction with a living person in centuries. The sheer awkwardness of his profiles, his attempts at flirting – it’s all so hilariously on point.
And the way they deal with supernatural bureaucracy? Pure genius. Trying to get a permit for a nighttime rave? Navigating the local werewolf council? It’s all treated with the same level of frustrating, red-tape-filled reality that we experience when trying to renew a driver’s license or deal with our cable company. You can practically feel the collective groan when they have to fill out another form. It’s that shared experience of navigating a system that feels designed to be intentionally difficult, but instead of dealing with DMV employees, they’re dealing with grumpy warlocks and bureaucratic goblins.
Their attempts at fitting in with the modern world are a constant source of amusement. Nandor trying to understand what a “influencer” is, Laszlo trying to get his head around reality TV, Nadja attempting to master the art of social media – it’s all a hilarious mess. They’re like aliens trying to blend into human society, but instead of aliens, they’re vampires, and instead of aliens, they’re just… old. Really, really old. You can see the gears turning in their ancient heads as they try to decipher the latest slang or understand why people are so fascinated by videos of cats. It’s that disconnect between their timeless existence and our fleeting, rapidly changing world that provides so much comedic fodder. We’ve all had that moment of staring blankly at a meme or a TikTok trend, wondering what the heck is going on. These vampires just take that feeling to a whole new level.
The show also has this wonderful way of exploring the dynamics of long-term cohabitation. Think about the compromises you have to make when you live with other people. Who does the dishes? Who takes out the trash? Well, for these vampires, it’s more like: who’s going to clean up the ectoplasmic residue? Who’s going to deal with the latest curse? And, of course, who’s going to stake Nandor if he becomes too insufferable today? It’s that familiar squabble over domestic duties, just with a lot more potential for eternal damnation. Their arguments are often petty and surprisingly relatable, even if they involve ancient prophecies or the proper way to dispose of a vampire victim’s belongings. It reminds you that no matter how old or powerful you are, living with others requires a certain level of… negotiation.
And the sheer absurdity of their situations is what makes it all so perfect. One minute they’re trying to host a dinner party for their vampire overlords, the next they’re getting involved in local politics because it’s the only way to get their hands on some decent virgin blood. It’s that escalation of chaos from something relatively normal to something utterly outlandish that keeps you hooked. You’re constantly thinking, “How did we get from this to that?” It’s like when a minor inconvenience at home suddenly spirals into a full-blown family drama. The vampires just happen to have higher stakes. Or, you know, lower stakes, depending on how you look at it.
Ultimately, What We Do In The Shadows is a show that understands the inherent humor in the human (and, in this case, vampiric) condition. It’s about the absurdity of existence, the awkwardness of social interaction, and the eternal quest for something… more. Whether “more” means world domination, a good meal, or just a quiet night in without Colin Robinson draining your life force. It’s a show that doesn’t take itself too seriously, and in doing so, it manages to capture something genuinely funny and surprisingly profound about the everyday struggles we all face, no matter how many centuries we’ve been around. It’s like that friend who can find the humor in anything, even when their life is literally falling apart. You just can’t help but smile and nod along.