The truth inside the comedy
2021; Elsevier BV; Volume: 21; Issue: 9 Linguagem: Inglês
10.1016/s1473-3099(21)00459-x
ISSN1474-4457
Autores Tópico(s)Leadership, Courage, and Heroism Studies
ResumoLockdowns during the COVID-19 pandemic have been a distinct experience that defined the period for many. Although the experience was unique and varied for everyone, there was certainly overlap. As the days and weeks passed, we adjusted to the so-called new normal, and the longer we spent aimlessly hoping for light to appear at the end of the tunnel, our shared experience and memory of this strange episode grew. It is something that none of us are likely to forget and it will undoubtedly shape the world and generations for years to come. But how can you convey the intimate and personal experience that was life in lockdown? The answer can unexpectedly be found in Bo Burnham's new comedy special Inside, released on Netflix on May 30, 2021. Inside starts in similar convention to Burnham's previous specials what. (2013) and Make Happy (2016), yet, with the added context of an ongoing pandemic. Burnham begins by setting an ambitious goal, a way of using the downtime offered by the lockdown. He plans to film, edit, and produce a new comedy special entirely on his own, from the confines of one room, and in the absence of any audience. In his opening song, he half ironically justifies the making of this project at a time like this as a means of “healing the world with comedy”. From here, Burnham abides to a relatively normal format, and through a visual circus of discreet sketches and musical numbers, with increasingly impressive choreography and lighting, he comments on and satirises the current state of society or “the way the world works”. Burnham cynically highlights the inherent corruption of capitalism, the systemic oppression and prejudice of colonialism's past, and even mocks the selfish insincerity of many so-called woke individuals who contort being progressive into the myopic lens of their own self-actualisation. However, the central focus of his condemnation falls upon our maddening over-reliance on the internet. Although this was the case before the pandemic, lockdowns have pushed us deeper into online spaces. We have been forced to sacrifice most real-world connections in favour of much safer digital alternatives. The result is a more disconnected and superficial existence. Burnham's commentary then suddenly shifts. In a sketch set to mimic an ordinary stand-up act, Burnham questions the platform that the internet has given us. He asks why, in the wake of social media, do people feel the need to express their opinions on every conceivable issue and topic. How necessary is that? This opinion, however, juxtaposes the very premise of his comedy. It contradicts his own use of the platform. It appears that Burnham is alerting us to the inner conflict he feels towards his own work. This project is his sole focus and he cannot help but scrutinise it and examine exactly what it says about himself. From this point, the template for the special fades and we find ourselves watching a conflicted and overly self-aware creator, at odds with himself, struggling to piece together a special that he cannot help but over-analyse. Although Burnham continues to address the digitisation of the human experience, the effects of isolation and his deteriorating mental health begin to take centre stage. He admits that he is at an “ATL” or all-time low. Deflecting from his internal struggle, he performs an upbeat tune about feeling like a “duffel bag of s**t”. Many of his sketches reflect his feelings of disconnection and derealisation. He parodies a YouTube-style react video to one of his own songs, which progresses to him reacting to his own reaction, followed by a reaction to his reaction of the reaction. In another sketch, he impersonates a gamer live streaming a playthrough of his own mundane life in lockdown. His mission objectives include getting up, crying, and playing piano. Burnham succeeds in communicating an honest portrayal of the disassociation so many felt throughout lockdown, something that other artists have not yet managed to do. In later sequences, Burnham appears to drop his act entirely. For example, at the halfway point of Inside, we slowly watch the clock strike midnight and see Bo turn 30 years old. His silence says everything. His grievance is all too familiar for the many of us who also mourn the valuable time that we have lost. Nevertheless, these surprisingly honest moments are often followed by manic performances like ‘Welcome to the internet', a song in which Burnham describes the insanity of the internet and what it has become. A whirling rabbit hole of everything and anything all of the time, where “apathy's a tragedy and boredom is a crime”. The song's descent into madness and the non-sensical mirrors the truly strange and surreal experience of life in lockdown. By the end of the special, Burnham has hit every major note of what the lockdown experience entailed. The timelessness, mundanity, loneliness, forced introspection, and frustration that embedded themselves into our lives can all be seen in the special. Ultimately, Burnham leaves us to wonder, after spending so long adjusting to the new normal, how ready are we for the old normal? For more on Bo Burnham: Inside see https://www.netflix.com/gb/title/81289483 For more on Bo Burnham: Inside see https://www.netflix.com/gb/title/81289483
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