Bo Burnham’s “Walden”
A review of Bo Burnham: Inside
“I’m so mad,” I say to myself as I press play on the New Hit Comedy Special of June 2021, Bo Burnham’s “Inside”. I’ve been finding myself increasingly mad lately, both in the sense of anger and mental instability. I’ve just started a new mood stabilizer so my prayer is that this new influx of chemicals will pair nicely with the serotonin boost I’m expecting from YouTube’s original musical comedy darling.
First thing’s first, Bo’s gotta let you know he’s tall. He’s walking into a room and showing you how tall he is FIRST THING. I saw Bo Burnham live at the LA Improv in the summer of 2014 and before the show I caught a glimpse of him walking around outside and I remember being quite awestruck at his height and lanky figure. He uses that lankiness to the benefit of his comedy, which I appreciate and don’t find annoying. I think he strikes a good balance of making fun of his body and also not letting it become too much of a “look at this goofy lanky guy” showcase.
It’s clear from the haggard appearance of our beloved jester that this is not the round-faced adolescent we met in 2006, or even the actor we knew from 2013’s Zach Stone is Gonna Be Famous, the short-lived MTV comedy that was too good for the network that brought you Floribama Shore and Teen Mom 2: Judgment Day. No, this man is weathered and worn, unkempt from months without a haircut and crippling depression.
Great art must challenge the audience or whatever. Part of the challenge with this special is watching all the “behind the scenes” set-up footage of staging shots which, theoretically, is only as interesting as any other footage of someone setting up a shoot might be. Playing with lighting and angles and wide shots — to some, this may be a fascinating peek into the creative process. For me, it felt a little self-indulgent to be strewn throughout the hour and a half special. That is not to say that the feat is not impressive; I found myself pleasantly surprised at the versatility of one room as a set. Bo’s camera and lighting tricks are masterful, especially considering the project’s lack of production support. While the pickup is a little slow for the first 10 minutes of the special, once we got to the third song, “FaceTiming with My Mom”, the variety of shots and the quality of editing immediately quelled my worry that the conceit of the show could be underwhelming.
Performing comedy is partly about making your audience laugh, but it’s also about keeping them engaged. Good comedy is not going to have you rolling on the floor for an hour and a half; it’s going to take you on a ride that serves you highs, lows, twists, and turns. It can’t all be punchlines, but it should be dynamic. As someone who has difficulty getting through a two hour movie, I need a comedy special to be multi-dimensional and energetic, and this hit both those spots, and while music isn’t my favorite vehicle for humor, Bo does it better than almost anyone and makes sure to keep it interesting beyond the individual tracks.
That said, the songs are predictably the highlights of this special. I found many of the “in-between” bits underdeveloped and flat, which is forgivable when you haven’t been able to work them out in front of a crowd for a year (or 5 in this case). That’s not to say that all of the bits are underwhelming. The standup he does on the stool in the first several minutes of the special works because of his delivery, and that’s a gift that can often compensate for lackluster writing.
In my opinion, standup is a bane of the art of comedy. It is the distillation of humor into publicly consumable bits and punchlines. It is the simplification of the absurdity of human experience, underscored by the simplicity of its premise. Perhaps that’s why these bits fell short — in contrast to the songs and sketches, the energy of the standup material is often (purposefully) low, and serves us best as an aperitif for more creative ventures, like the non-musical “SSRI Interactive” video game streaming sketch.
Though I wouldn’t call it a sketch, the 30th birthday rumination was relatable not only because I’m looking down the barrel of 30, but the scene also captures that kind of inexhaustible feeling of time passing without our consent, the meaninglessness and meaningfulness of a milestone, and the profound aloneness of watching the clock turn midnight on your simultaneously special and mundane day. Not particularly humorous, but a good, sincere set up for a song about how annoying it is when your stupid friends start having stupid children.
Alright, let’s get to the songs. Our first number is an on-brand, earnestly funny and self-aware Bo Burnham Classic. The music is great and his delivery and voice complement each other nicely. But does the earnestness become too much? I felt the second song about being a white guy who wants to improve the world was self-aggrandizing. The need for “woke” white men to continually talk about their privilege is tiring, even when it’s coming from the mouth of a comedic genius who may or may not be trying to make a point about it. Ultimately, the futility of trying to find meaning in your job is relatable — ah, we’re all struggling with the consequences of capitalism while trying to “ethically” function within it, what a conundrum, indeed.
While the first two songs were clearly meant to be introductory and tone-setting, I was grateful for the excellent “Facetiming with My Mom”. It’s shot exceptionally well and Bo’s facial expressions really sell the comedy of it. He’s a great actor! Similarly, the fifth song about white women’s instagrams is made more humorous through the visuals. Impressively, all of the “joke” photos Bo stages for this bit are better than anything on my actual instagram. Unlike “Facetiming”, though, this one underwhelmed me because of the overdone concept — yes, white women are basic and it’s fun to make fun of them.
These are the reliable tracks, the ones that take a simple, relatable concept and draw on that relatability for humor. Similar to an “I Just Had Sex” or “The Most Beautiful Girl”, the lyrics play nicely off of the highly stylized music to give you both an aurally pleasing experience and several good laughs. He’s got a couple more of this ilk, though I feel they become boring — for example, the sexting track feels like obligatory fodder for his millennial audience.
But my favorite songs are absolutely the short, absurd ones. The Bezos song that gets a reprise towards the end is perfectly silly and he’s right to leave out any direct burns about billionaires or capitalism — the satirical idolatry of Jeff(rey) Bezos in the form of a man belting out his name to a glam rock power anthem tune makes just the right statement. The unpaid intern song that serves only as a lead-in to the reaction video bit is cheeky, catchy, and too on the nose — but it works perfectly as a set up. This is the silliness I crave. I want the turns to come out of left field, or for there to be no turns at all. Give me a short, pointless bop over a 3-minute ballad about social ills any day.
Speaking of social ills, they’re one of the Big Themes in this special. COVID, systemic (not systematic, as he says in the 2nd song) oppression, and climate change are subjects of reckoning for our artist, who asks throughout, “what is comedy’s place in relation to the horrors of our world?” This is a natural question for a comedian with a conscience, but I personally don’t find it a compelling theme for an entire special. A number of songs address this theme, some more successfully than others: the internet song is a jumpy show tune that’s funny and witty, and yes, isn’t the internet absolutely horrible and scary? Globalization and consumerism are fucked up! Conversely, the song about getting cancelled is as devoid of meaning as cancel culture itself. We snowballed the idea of holding people accountable into a system of punitive judgment that’s more about the fear that one’s individual, thoughtless actions are an indication of their morality rather than addressing actual problematic behaviors. This song is simply a regurgitation of every white person on Twitter’s first thoughts when we’re exposed to a new truth about racism — “did I do something bad?” While putting himself on the cross is a good visual punchline and, I believe, indicative of his intended tone, I often find that this kind of satire lands us in paradox territory — is the satire actually subversive or does it lend credence to dismiss any kind of accountability, as many who rail against cancel culture are attempting to do?
Bo even trades in his signature keyboard for an acoustic guitar to accompany what’s possibly his most sincere song, in which he reflects on corporate responses to social issues, the potential end of humanity, and Vine star Logan Paul. Yet even with his somber crooning and thoughtful lyrics, the final result is again too earnest without really saying anything other than “this shit is very fucked up and I don’t know how to deal with it” — it’s smart, yes, but is it entertaining? That’s up to you.
Critiquing brand involvement in social justice discourse is perhaps a bit played out at this point, and while I found the black-and-white “marketing media consultant” sketch funny, it’s overdone in comedy right now, as well as in this special.
Combining the sincere and humorous is never an easy feat, but I think it works in Bo’s favor when he draws from his personal experiences with depression and aging. The penultimate song, a Top 40-esque track in the style of Diplo or Calvin Harris not only slaps, but perfectly cushions the spoken-word reflection on having panic attacks and trouble with live performance. I actually thought it would be the perfect song to end with, but the actual finale wraps things up in a much tidier bow.
The final song, like the first, is a Bo Burnham Classic, and he lets you know it. This is his song, from his perspective, addressing you, reminding you that he’s just given you his art. This is his project, and I admire his preemptive attempt to reclaim his creation. Like the conclusion of an essay, the farewell ballad reminds us of the various themes — depression, isolation, capitalism, etc. — and even interpolates several of the other songs from the special.
In the final scene(s), Bo emerges from inside wearing bright white clothing and swiftly realizes he’s locked himself out. The audience laughter directed at the scene’s buffoonery becomes grim the longer we watch our panicked friend show true fear at the inability to regain entry. That fear strikes at something deeper, as well. Ultimately, the fear of the outside seems worse than the isolation and darkness of the inside, and we feel a sense of relief when the camera pans out to reveal our artist watching the scene on a projector inside the room.
I commend the vulnerability and talent showcased in this special. It’s a compelling assertion of creative independence and the subject matter is relevant and smart. But I am not entirely sure the central question about comedy and social responsibility is ever answered, and perhaps that’s for the best.
