4x10 Sunrise, Sunset

[7.7/10] My complaint at the beginning of season 4 was that the show had promised us all of these momentous changes in the season 3 finale and they amounted to...not very much. Nandor, Nadja, and Guillermo are basically in the same place. Lazlo is a dad, but his betrayal of Nadja didn’t amount to anything. Only Baby Colin Robinson is meaningfully different from where we left him at the start of season 3. It was a frustrating bait-and-switch reversion to the status quo.

Despite that, I like how “Sunrise, Sunset” leans into that idea. Guillermo’s confessional that “nothing here changes” makes it explicit, and it ties into the Fiddler on the Roof-style musical and thematic references at play here. All of the grand plans and actions that everyone has made this year amounted to nothing, and it’s very melancholy.

Sometimes it’s also funny! Watching Nadja’s misadventures trying to keep the club afloat are a big laugh. The improv comics and children’s birthday parties are amusingly desperate ploys. The ability to bring back historical figures, only to use them for a dull podcast, is a very funny comic setup. (Plus hey, I gasped at seeing Murasaki represented, so that’s something too.) And the fact that when it’s time to give up the ghost (no pun intended), Nadja burns the place down, but never bought insurance, is a good twist of fate. I especially appreciate that thanks to the blood sprinklers finally working, all she incinerates is her own office, including her secret stash of cash. It’s all very funny, but to Guillermo’s point, despite Nadja’s grand plans, it leaves her back at square one.

The same goes for Nandor. He doesn’t have as much to do in this one, mostly an amusing exchange with Colin Jr. where he thinks he knows how to relate to the younger generation and instead gets humored and mocked by the quasi-teenager. Still, after all he’s been through, his new devotion to finding a mate, Nandor is unperturbed by losing Marwa, has contented himself by getting really into books, and as a vampire who’s lived for centuries, is unsurprisingly cool with stasis for a longer time scale than Guillermo is. Regardless of his grand desire this season, he’s back where he started with no interest in “what’s next.”

Most strikingly, the same goes for Colin Robinson Jr. His is one of the funniest bits in the episode. Seeing grown man Mark Proksch portray a disaffected youth with such conviction is hilarious, especially with his mocking tone and sullen demeanor. Likewise, the moments when he reverts to a more childish stage are extra funny when it’s really Proksch doing the shtick. Plus, his instinctual need to hammer resulting in him finding a projector slide that points him to Colin Sr.’s secret room is surprisingly twisty and thrilling.

His reversion to Colin Sr. is clever enough. The gradually falling out of his youthful mop and need for glasses and, well, flatulence while reading his progenitor’s meticulous journals comes gradually and portentously enough. His full-fledged return, with the knowledge of the group's PIN number solves the money problems neatly and results in another funny bit of him micromanaging contractors.

And yet, there’s a strangely sincere undercurrent to the whole thing. Holy hell, I didn’t know Matt Berry had it in him. The scene where Lazlo explains to Colin Jr. that he’s an energy vampire, with Colin lamenting his lot in life and wondering why his erstwhile dad did nothing to stop it comes off unexpectedly real. And god help me, Lazlo having spent the past year raising this young man, bonding with him through their little monkeyshines, and being a little shattered when his erstwhile son has no memory of it is quietly heartbreaking. Berry sells the hell out of the moment, and man, you really feel for him.

You also feel for Guillermo. HIs big change, for lack of a better term, was his first long term boyfriend, and that was completely ruined by his status as a familiar to these self-centered jerks. There’s a line from The Sopranos that’s long stuck with me. Christopher Moltisanti confides in his boss, “It's like the regularness of life is too fucking hard for me.” Like so many lines from those characters, there’s not much elegance to it, but there’s something profound in the sentiment, as not very deep or reflective people have transcendent or existential experiences that they can’t quite articulate.

Guillermo is not Christopher. He is smarter and more articulate than that, but his monologue about being the hamster on the wheel strikes the same chord. He does these same things, over and over again, with no expectation of anything beyond the fact that the tide will roll out and then it will roll back in.

There is excitement, of course, in the fact that he decides to use the money he embezzled from the club to try to get his friend, Derek, to turn him into a vampire. Guillermo rightfully decides that if he wants change, he has to seize it, rather than simply wait in vain for it to be handed to him. The moment is strangely hopeful, that he will finally get what he’s always wanted, even if the show always has an out in the form of Nandor’s two remaining wishes.

But there’s also an irony to it. Guillermo goes to such lengths because he wants to become a vampire, like he’s dreamed about since he was a kid. And yet, what is immortality but the absence of change, the persistence of your current state? I lamented the persistent stasis of What We Do in the Shadows from season to season, but with this melancholy reflection on the year’s events, it becomes a feature, not a bug. The show once again turns something ridiculous into something profound. Who knows if season 5 will bring Guillermo, or the viewers, what we want, but I continue to be excited to discover what’s next.