“Here Comes the Content:” A Review of “Bo Burnham: Inside”
Written by Kennedy McCutchen
Photo Credit via Netflix
A disclaimer: prepare for hypocrisy. The following is an amateur review of a non-amateur comedy special about how internet-users are losing their mental health to Silicon Valley capitalists and becoming incrementally deluded in a very, very chaotic world. I am an internet-user. I am a white woman on Instagram who has certainly snapped pictures of “a simple glass of wine,” though I’ve poked fun at others for doing the same. I will happily watch YouTube compilation videos of John Mulaney on talk shows I’ve seen three times already. And now, I’m diligently going to explain to you why you should take note from Burnham, sing a song about the tragedy of our dying planet, put down the phone, and go outside. I sound like an authoritative figure on this kind of content, right?
Another imperative admission: I had never heard of Bo Burnham before watching this special (collective, pitying gasp). I knew nothing of his public upbringing on YouTube, his previous specials on Netflix, or his directorial debut Eighth Grade. I didn’t know that he used satirical ballads and pop songs to convey ever-ironic messages about culture, nor would I have fathomed my substantiated ability to watch and listen to each and every one of his specials with undivided attention. But now I know.
So where to begin with a special that encompasses the spectrum of human emotion performed by a stage persona whom we shouldn’t mistake for the real Burnham? This last note is up for debate, of course (artistic subjectivities, am I right?), but I wouldn’t take anything Burnham says or does in a moment of perceived vulnerability at face value. Afterall, a segment of Burnham playing a video-game of his projected isolationism subliminally reoccurs before the skit begins (around the fourteenth-minute), hinting that the entire show is a comedic mind-trick of the creator’s own doing, unsurprising given Burnham’s performance record.
Photo Credit via Netflix
The show is a visual-sonic masterpiece. Burnham showcases exquisite command over the song-writing, camera shots, light fixtures, and editing tempo. The latter is demonstrated in his tonal shift following the intermission. What begins as an upbeat, slightly demoralizing, white-saviour apology — cue “Comedy” and “Problematic” — becomes an unsparing, capitalism-critiquing, mental-health discussion — hello “All Time Low” and “That Funny Feeling.” Burnham reuses lyrics that take on new meaning by the end of the screening; “look who’s inside again” repeats itself with a solemnity that no longer feels mocking, and “you’re really joking at a time like this” reinforces the reality and severity of global circumstances that Burnham really doesn’t find very funny at all.
It’s increasingly hard to distinguish what in the “outside” world exists with a humbled authenticity and what exists for attention, and as I was researching for this review, the oversaturation of “Inside” opinions certainly felt like the latter. Are we (novice volunteers and salaried film critics alike) writing to truly celebrate Burnham’s achievement in accurately portraying the demise of a technologically-dependent society, or are we simply trying to be the first to over-analyze a creative venture that should be contemplated privately, introspectively, and thoughtfully? Perhaps the choices aren’t quite as binary as that, but when Burnham asks if it's necessary for every single person to express “every single opinion that they have on every single thing all at the same time,” there seems to be a pretty clear answer. He even parodies YouTube “reaction videos;” we, as public commentators, are quite literally the subject of his joke.
We’re not made fun of alone, however, because Burnham is also the butt of his joke. He mentions that, as the star of his self-directed special, he isn’t shutting up either, and he refuses to explain himself for it. Just as he sings in his infamous satire “Art is Dead,” we all just seem to be little attention attractors — and we’re lonely. Pandemic circumstances certainly haven’t made those traits any less palpable.
I think, ultimately, we’ve collectively determined that I’m not here to tell you what lessons are to be learned from “Inside,” but if I can relay one of Burnham’s most interesting suggestions, maybe, just for a second, we should all “shut the f*** up.”
Director: Bo Burnham
Running Time: 87 minutes
Available on Netflix
Stream the “Inside” album on Spotify and Apple Music
