“I reckon what makes Ed happy is you,” says Blackbeard (Taika Waititi) in an unexpectedly romantic, sunset-lit moment of the HBO Max pirate rom-com Our Flag Means Death. Both this show and FX’s vampire mockumentary What We Do In the Shadows are produced by Waititi (and in the case of Shadows, co-created by him). Both are loving send-ups of well-established genres. Both feature a group of misfits of that genre uneasily tossed together and learning to work and live side-by-side. And both are powered by a deep, abiding, and gleeful silliness that never takes itself (or asks us to take it) too seriously. But both are also able to play surprisingly moving emotional notes without ever abandoning their shows’ absurd melodies. It’s this central silliness that helps each show land its emotional blows — and their layering of comedy and pathos, often in the very same moment, maximizes both.

Our Flag Means Death, which completed its (hopefully!) first season in March, follows the not-quite-daring exploits of Stede Bonnet (Rhys Darby), a wealthy landowner from Barbados who gives up his comfortable life to take to the high seas as a pirate captain. The only problem? He doesn’t know how to sail, his sensibilities when it comes to violence are delicate, and he has generally no idea how to be a swashbuckler. To fill in the gaps, he has assembled a ragtag crew including first-mate and seagull enthusiast Buttons (Ewan Bremmer), snarky scribe Lucius (Nathan Foad), mysterious and mute (at least at first) Jim (Vico Ortiz), and sensible and pragmatic Oluwande (Samson Kayo). This misfit bunch goes from sewing flags and debating mutiny (Bonnet is saved in part by the fact that he does all the voices during their nightly story time) to trying their bumbling best to protect him from the British Navy officers who board their ship in an attempt to execute him.

Throughout, Bonnet and the fearsome Blackbeard (Waititi) are falling in opposites-attract love, much to the chagrin of Blackbeard’s first mate Izzy Hands (Con O’Neill), who wants Blackbeard to return to his bygone bloodthirsty days. The well-worn swashbuckling pirate genre is mined for both exhilaratingly silly comedy and for a touching and heartbreaking love story, both romantically and among the Revenge’s found family of a crew.

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Image Via HBO

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While Our Flag Means Death wears its beating heart proudly on its sleeve, What We Do in the Shadows remains more aloof until its most recent season’s final moments — which makes sense, considering most of its main characters’ hearts don’t beat at all. Three blood-sucking vampires —Nandor the Relentless (Kayvan Novak), Nadja (Natasia Demetriou), and Laszlo (Matt Berry) — and an energy vampire, Colin Robinson (Mark Proksch), live in a Staten Island mansion with Nandor’s human familiar Guillermo (Harvey Guillén). The well-loved tropes of the vampire genre — coffins and darkness, humans turned and murdered, familiars and flying and mind control — are delivered by the absolute goofiest group of vampires ever to (not) draw breath.

By the end of the third season, the vampires are scattered. Nandor is on his way to travel the world. Nadja is in her coffin on a ship to England. Guillermo, meant to be traveling with Nandor, has been sealed in Laszlo’s coffin alongside Nadja’s with only Oreos and Pedialyte for sustenance. Laszlo has gone back to Staten Island, and Colin Robinson is dead (or so it seems). The break-up of this unholy family, so often at each other’s throats, is genuinely sad — until a bonneted baby with Colin Robinson’s middle-aged face pops up and screams at the camera, reminding us of what a daffy hash they’ve made of the vampire life and how they’ve gotten each other through the messes they’ve made.

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Image via FX

Both of these shows exploit the tropes of their genre for laughs. Does Laszlo turn into a bat to fly away, like many an onscreen vampire before him? Yes, but only if he’s yelling “BAT” as he does so. Do the pirates on the Revenge go on raids like their fearsome counterparts? Yes, but they only stole a plant, and they know that if they come back traumatized they should “talk it through as a crew.” The misfit families at the center of each show fight, play, have sex, sing songs, and muddle through their respective genre conventions together, whether they’re trying to keep a boat afloat and scurvy at bay, or whether they’re seeking to stay unslayed and keep the yard full of barely buried bodies undetected. The well-loved genres give an audience a shorthand for understanding the story, while the high-spirited foolishness deployed in their service opens up new storytelling opportunities.

This high silliness is the lifeblood (pun absolutely intended) of each show and its central relationships. Stede’s innate ridiculousness is the core engine of the show — his crew finds him silly, his family in Barbados finds him silly, and deep down he finds himself silly. But it’s this lighthearted frivolity that attracts Blackbeard to him, first as a patsy, then as a friend, and then as a lover. The vampires of Staten Island stumble into positions of authority, and their hilarious ineptitude gives vampire hunter/familiar Guillermo purpose as he transitions to their bodyguard.

Stede cleaning Blackbeard's beard as they eat during their treasure hunt.

So when each show turns to moments of genuine pathos, it’s always through the prism of their essential absurdity. One of the sweetest moments in Our Flag Means Death’s burgeoning romance is an extended riff on Blackbeard’s imaginary restaurant, Blackbeard’s Bar and Grille and Other Delicacies and Delights and Fishing Equipment. Over a meal of roasted snake, Lucius watches in horror and fascination, muttering “Oh my god, this is happening,” as Blackbeard and Stede spark through an improvisation about whether Blackbeard can get Stede a table and whether the gift shop should be at the back or the front of the restaurant. Blackbeard’s later heartbreak is expressed through maudlin song lyrics that lead the crew to enthusiastically preparing a talent show. Stede fakes his death first by jaguar, then carriage accident, and then by falling piano, choosing the most operatically absurd ways to free him and his unhappy wife from their marriage. In each case, the joyful dopiness bolsters the tenderness of the moment, rather than undercutting it — enthusiasm is always at least a little ridiculous, and always at least a little moving.

What We Do in the Shadows takes this principle to supernaturally silly heights. When Laszlo reveals late in the third season that he knows Colin Robinson is dying, he recontextualizes a season-long series of goofs. Yes, sure, he set Colin Robinson on fire, pinned him to the wall with a car, and got him ensnared by a half-chicken siren on an island strewn with trash and bones. Yes, Laszlo got Colin Robinson a cheesy birthday/deathday musical card from the drugstore and asked everyone to sign it like he’s the mansion’s HR manager. And yes, his heartfelt toast included the line “I don’t even particularly like the fellow, I can’t stand the man, but I’m proud to call him my friend.” We’re touched by Laszlo’s efforts to ease Colin Robinson’s final months not because he’s suddenly become poetic and sincere, but because of the merry stupidity of his efforts. He’s trying his best, and doing a terrible job, and that makes the whole situation funnier and more heartbreaking.

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Image via FX

Until, of course, he does turn poetic. When he discovers that Colin Robinson has regenerated as a baby, burst from the guts of his former body, we experience this sublimely gross goofiness while hearing the letter he wrote to his beloved wife Nadja, which is a legitimately thoughtful explanation of his decision to stay behind to care for the baby while Nadja sets off for international service. But in the same breath, Laszlo assures her that he cut a small hole in Guillermo’s coffin so that he can be “accurate or persistent” and avoid “drown[ing] in his own filth” This juxtaposition of silly and sincere once again underscores each.

The most recent endings of Our Flag Means Death and What We Do In the Shadows each feature both separation and reunion: Blackbeard returns to the ruthless pirate of Izzy’s dreams to deal with his heartbreak over Stede leaving him, while Stede is reunited with his abandoned crew. Laszlo sends off his wife, friends, and their house’s familiar, only to reunite with the freshly (and goo-ily) regenerated Colin Robinson. These emotional lows and highs aren’t breaks from their shows’ exuberant silliness; rather, they’re only possible because of it. The characters are always and ever themselves, and seeing their humanity (even among the undead) refracted through their ridiculous natures makes both the humor and the deep feeling shine more colorfully.