Polite Predation: The Comedic Reinvention of Vampiric Elegance
In a world of brooding immortals and savage night-stalkers, one vampire redefines eternity through impeccable manners and endless mishaps.
The vampire genre has long thrived on the tension between allure and terror, but few characters capture its absurd underbelly with such finesse as the fastidious Viago. Emerging from the mockumentary lens of What We Do in the Shadows (2014), this 379-year-old nobleman turns the gothic archetype on its head, blending aristocratic poise with the banal frustrations of modern cohabitation. This exploration uncovers how Viago’s charm fuels the film’s comedy, while subtly nodding to centuries of bloodthirsty folklore.
- Viago embodies the evolution of the vampire from monstrous predator to relatable anti-hero, infusing eternal life with petty domestic squabbles.
- His performance masterfully balances physical comedy, deadpan delivery, and poignant vulnerability, elevating mockumentary tropes to mythic heights.
- The character’s enduring appeal lies in his fusion of horror traditions with contemporary humour, influencing a wave of comedic undead narratives.
Shadows Over the Share House
The film unfolds as a fly-on-the-wall documentary chronicling the nocturnal lives of four Wellington-based vampires: the pompous Vladislav, the ancient Petyr, the feral Deacon, and our central figure, Viago. Tasked with organising a flatmates’ meeting to address household chores—like unpaid power bills and the return of familiars’ brains from the fridge—Viago navigates eternity’s mundanities with exasperated precision. His attempt to hypnotise and transform a hapless victim, Stu, into a devoted servant backfires spectacularly when the spell fails, thrusting the human into their undead fold as an unwitting roommate.
Viago’s backstory, revealed through confessional interviews, paints him as a vampire of noble Transylvanian stock, turned centuries ago amid a life of finery. Yet immortality has curdled into routine: he dons a powdered wig, velvet cape, and lace cuffs for hunts, only to bumble through modern streets in search of “virgins” amid oblivious clubbers. A pivotal sequence sees him politely requesting a victim to “look into my eyes” before biting, apologising profusely when fangs snag on clothing. This meticulous ritual contrasts sharply with Vladislav’s bombastic failures, highlighting Viago’s role as the household’s beleaguered mediator.
The narrative escalates during the annual Unholy Masquerade, where Viago’s charm shines amid chaos. He woos a disguised werewolf pack leader with gallant dances, only for inter-species rivalry to erupt into brawls. His seduction attempts, laced with outdated gallantry, underscore the film’s core gag: vampires as eternal teenagers, trapped in adolescent angst despite their age. Production notes reveal director-co-writers drew from real flat-sharing woes, amplifying folklore’s isolation theme into sitcom farce.
Key crew contributions enhance Viago’s world: cinematographer Robert Steele’s handheld style mimics reality TV, capturing the vampire’s stiff-legged jogs and powder spills with unflinching intimacy. Makeup artist Danelle Satherley crafted his porcelain pallor and exaggerated fangs, evoking 18th-century portraits while allowing expressive facial tics central to the comedy. The score, blending harpsichord with dubstep, mirrors Viago’s anachronistic soul.
From Coffin to Couch: Vampiric Lineage
Vampire mythology traces to Eastern European folklore, where revenants like the strigoi preyed with mindless savagery, as chronicled in 18th-century texts by Dom Augustin Calmet. Bram Stoker’s Dracula (1897) refined this into seductive nobility, a template echoed in Bela Lugosi’s 1931 screen incarnation. Viago inverts this lineage: where Dracula commands hypnosis with imperious gaze, Viago begs compliance, his “power” reduced to polite insistence. This shift reflects post-modern horror’s demystification, akin to Interview with the Vampire (1994), but laced with absurdity.
Cultural evolution accelerated in the 21st century, with undead domesticated in series like True Blood (2008-2014). Yet What We Do in the Shadows pioneers mockumentary deconstruction, positioning Viago as evolutionary pinnacle—or nadir—of the suave bloodsucker. Film scholar Wheeler Winston Dixon notes in Death of the Classic Movie Musical (2012) how comedy humanises monsters, fostering empathy; Viago’s charm exemplifies this, turning predation into palatable pathos.
Viago’s Victorian affectations homage Hammer Films’ Christopher Lee Draculas, whose caped elegance masked erotic menace. Here, the cape snags on doors, the elegance frays into farce. This parody critiques immortality’s stasis: eternal life as repetitive drudgery, not exalted romance. Interviews with the filmmakers reveal deliberate nods to Fawlty Towers-esque British farce, grafting it onto gothic roots for transatlantic appeal.
Overlooked in analyses is Viago’s queered undertones, blending dandyish flair with bromantic flatmate bonds. Queer horror theorist Harry Benshoff, in Monsters in the Closet (1997), argues vampires symbolise “otherness”; Viago’s primness amplifies this, his charm disarming prejudice through laughter.
Manners Maketh the Monster
Viago’s comedy springs from character study: a creature of compulsive courtesy amid carnage. In one scene, he chastises Deacon for “Nazi regalia” on laundry day, folding bloodied sheets with OCD precision. His charm disarms—inviting documentary crews inside with tea offers—yet conceals predatory core. Actor Taika Waititi channels this duality through subtle tics: fluttering eyelashes during hypnosis, sighs of eternal disappointment.
Physicality drives humour: Viago cannot enter homes uninvited, leading to doorframe wedgies; sunlight exposure blisters his skin, prompting frantic cape-flaps. These gags evolve folklore vulnerabilities—garlic aversions turned to polite sniff-rejections—into slapstick. Waititi’s balletic awkwardness recalls Buster Keaton, grounding supernatural in human frailty.
Charm manifests in vulnerability: Viago pines for love, his 1997 victim long dead. A tender interview reveals loneliness, “We can’t be everywhere all the time,” humanising the immortal. This emotional core elevates comedy beyond sight gags, echoing Charlie Chaplin’s tramp—tragicomic everyman in monster guise.
Symbolism abounds: Viago’s powder puff ritual signifies constructed identity, makeup as armour against time’s erosion. Lighting choices—cool blues for nights, harsh fluorescents for flat—underscore his displacement in modernity, a relic adrift.
Bloodlust Behind the Lens
The mockumentary format amplifies Viago’s appeal, confessional asides peeling layers like onion skin. Directors Taika Waititi and Jemaine Clement improvise extensively, Waititi’s Viago born from ad-libs capturing neurotic essence. Editing by Miko Tauriwa and Richard Blenkinsop paces chaos rhythmically, intercutting hunts with chore disputes for escalating hilarity.
Special effects, practical and low-fi, enhance charm: animatronic beasts for familiar Nick’s transformation, forced perspective for Petyr’s ancient lair. Viago’s fangs, practical prosthetics, allow nuanced expressions impossible digitally, preserving tactile horror-comedy blend.
Production hurdles shaped the film: shoestring budget forced Wellington locations, vampires dodging real sunlight. Censorship dodged via comedy—gore comedic, not gratuitous—securing wide release. Festival acclaim at SXSW 2014 propelled it, grossing over $3 million on $1.6 million budget.
Echoes in the Undead Chorus
Viago’s legacy permeates horror-comedy: the 2019 TV series expands his arc, exploring familiar dynamics and werewolf truces. Influences ripple to Zombieland (2009) sequels, undead domesticity norm. Critics like Mark Kermode praise its “affectionate evisceration” of tropes, cementing Viago as archetype shifter.
Thematically, Viago probes immortality’s curse: endless time breeds pettiness, not wisdom. Contrasting Deacon’s sloth, he clings to decorum as identity anchor, gothic romance devolved to sitcom pathos. This resonates culturally, mirroring millennial precarity—eternal youth in stagnant flats.
Influence extends folklore revival: post-film vampire lit like Vampires of Ottakring adopts humorous domestication. Viago proves monsters thrive via reinvention, charm conquering fear.
Director in the Spotlight
Taika Waititi, born Taika David Cohen on 16 August 1975 in Raukokore, New Zealand, to a Rongowhakaata iwi mother and Jewish father, grew up immersed in Maori culture and cinema. A former stand-up comedian and painter at Wellington’s Toi Whakaari drama school, he burst onto screens with short film Two Cars, One Night (2003), earning an Oscar nomination. His feature debut Eagle vs Shark (2007), a quirky rom-com starring Jemaine Clement, showcased his deadpan style.
Waititi’s career skyrocketed with What We Do in the Shadows (2014), co-directed with Clement, blending horror parody and improv mastery. He followed with Hunt for the Wilderpeople (2016), a heartfelt adventure grossing $23 million worldwide, earning BAFTA acclaim. Thor: Ragnarok (2017) marked his MCU entry, infusing Marvel with wit as Korg’s voice, box office haul $855 million.
Subsequent works include Jojo Rabbit (2019), a satirical WWII fable where he played Adolf Hitler, netting Oscar for Best Adapted Screenplay and $36 million earnings. Thor: Love and Thunder (2022) continued his franchise flair. Documentaries like Free Solo executive production (2018, Oscar winner) and Next Goal Wins (2023) diversify his oeuvre. Influences span Mel Brooks, Akira Kurosawa, and Maori folklore; his visual style mixes whimsy with poignancy. Waititi’s production company, Piki Films, champions indigenous voices, earning him Officer of the New Zealand Order of Merit in 2019. Future projects include Star Wars series and Akira live-action.
Comprehensive filmography: Scorched (2005, short); Fisherman’s Friend (2005, short); Two Cars, One Night (2003, short, Oscar nom); Eagle vs Shark (2007); Boy (2010); What We Do in the Shadows (2014, co-dir.); Hunt for the Wilderpeople (2016); Thor: Ragnarok (2017); Jojo Rabbit (2019, also actor); Thor: Love and Thunder (2022); Next Goal Wins (2023, dir./prod.). Acting credits: Mortal Engines (2018), Free Guy (2021 voice).
Actor in the Spotlight
Taika Waititi, the multifaceted talent behind Viago, embodies the character’s essence through his multifaceted career. Early life in rural New Zealand honed his observational humour; radio gigs with The Humourbeasts preceded screen work. Breakthrough acting in Scorched (2005) led to Viago, where improv skills shone—much dialogue unscripted, capturing neurotic charm.
Notable roles include Korg in Thor: Ragnarok (2017) and sequels, voice of Barley in Onward (2020), and Hitler in Jojo Rabbit (2019). Awards: Grammy for Jojo Rabbit song (2020), Saturn Award for Thor: Ragnarok. His screen presence blends vulnerability with absurdity, perfect for Viago’s apologetic bites.
Filmography as actor: Two Cars, One Night (2003); Eagle vs Shark (2007); Boy (2010); What We Do in the Shadows (2014, as Viago); Hunt for the Wilderpeople (2016); Thor: Ragnarok (2017, Korg); Avengers: Endgame (2019, Korg); Jojo Rabbit (2019, Hitler); Free Guy (2021, voice); Thor: Love and Thunder (2022, Korg); Lightyear (2022, voice). Directing accolades amplify his legacy.
Thirsty for more eternal enigmas? Explore the depths of horror mythology in our latest dispatches.
Bibliography
Auerbach, N. (1995) Our Vampires, Ourselves. University of Chicago Press.
Benshoff, H. M. (1997) Monsters in the Closet: Gay Sexuality on Screen. Duke University Press.
Dixon, W. W. (2012) Death of the Classic Movie Musical. Edinburgh University Press.
Kermode, M. (2015) ‘What We Do in the Shadows review’, The Observer. Available at: https://www.theguardian.com/film/2015/feb/08/what-we-do-in-the-shadows-review (Accessed: 15 October 2023).
Silver, A. and Ursini, J. (1997) The Vampire Film: From Nosferatu to Bram Stoker’s Dracula. Limelight Editions.
Waititi, T. and Clement, J. (2014) What We Do in the Shadows [Film]. Wellington: Unison Films.
Wood, J. (2019) ‘Taika Waititi: The Nice Guy’, London Review of Books, 41(10). Available at: https://www.lrb.co.uk/the-paper/v41/n10/james-wood/taika-waititi-the-nice-guy (Accessed: 15 October 2023).