Bo Burnam: Inside

CW: mentions of suicidal ideations

Inside is an absolute masterpiece: introspective, relatable, and deeply depressing. Bo Burnam’s latest Netflix special is both a social commentary about assorted aspects of existence and is an account of his journey throughout the global pandemic, focusing on content creation, anxiety, depression, suicidal ideations, and isolation induced agoraphobia. After watching the special with some friends via Netflix Party, I proceeded to listen to nothing but Inside (The Songs) on Spotify for a week straight, while recommending the special to everyone I possibly could. Inside is one of those exceptional films that will inevitably transcend trending to become a cult classic. I watched it again in its entirety recently, and found myself, once again, having an intense emotional response to it. If you haven’t seen it yet, I would highly recommend watching it before continuing to read this article, and if you have seen it, then proceed~ 

The song Content opens the special, and is centred around isolation induced depression and the pressure to create. I recall prevalent narratives that emerged around the beginning of the global pandemic, that took a more ‘positive’ outlook on isolation, claiming that it was the ideal time to begin working on all of the things you’d been putting off: finally sitting down to write that book, getting into a structured workout regimen, baking copious amounts of sourdough bread, and so forth. These narratives clearly stem from privileged perspectives – not everyone is allotted the opportunity to either work from home, get paid leave from their job, or receive consistent, liveable government funded financial support. Some people have had to continue working jobs that have put them at risk of COVID-19 in order to support themselves and their families. The idea that enforced quarantines are inherently positive, particularly regarding productivity and creation, is not a reality for many people. Additionally, the sheer strain of isolation has made it impossible for many of us to be productive in the ways social media has pressured us to be. Some people have dealt with myriads of mental health issues as direct products of the pandemic, making daily existence that much more difficult. Hence, the notion that everyone is wholly capable of undertaking massive passion projects completely ignores such obstacles. While Bo completed his special throughout the pandemic, he confronts the latter issues in this song, stating that he’s been feeling depressed, so merely “getting up, sitting down, going back to work” would often encompass the entirety of a day’s activities. He circles back to such ideas, especially focusing on symptoms of depression and anxiety, throughout the special. The song Shit confronts how difficult simply existing can be for people amid the pandemic, making it nearly impossible to take care of oneself and doing seemingly simple tasks like showering, waking up at a consistent time, and remaining present. Content creation is thus juxtaposed to depression throughout the special, speaking to expectations of conceptualizations of productivity and unproductivity. 

Comedy focuses on the reality of the world and how that has impacted Bo’s creative process – outlining some of the ethical struggles he had with creating a comedy special “at a time like this” – referring to the multitudes of tragic and traumatic happenings that have occurred throughout the pandemic. He asserts that he wants to contribute something positive to the world, and questions whether that’s possible through comedy. He concludes that he is “healing the world with comedy”.

The friends that I watched this comedy special with had similarly strong emotional reactions to it, and we discussed how it forced us to be introspective about our quarantine experiences and shared states of mental (un)wellness. For me, the most “healing” aspect of the special was the sense of catharsis I experienced throughout it, as it made me feel less alone in my isolation induced depression. To know that so many people relate to its contents makes me feel a sense of solidarity in solitude and sadness. While the utter bluntness of Bo’s content was shocking, I really appreciated it for what it was: an acknowledgement that, throughout quarantine, distractions have become a means of survival. 

One of the most significant songs in the special is How the World Works, because it highlights the rose-coloured lens through which history is taught and the erasure of the horrific realities of structural racism, in both historic and ongoing contexts. The musical quality of the song is very happy-go-lucky children’s music vibes – and while the preliminary lyrics abide by this vibe, they shift to harsh realities through Socko’s account of how the world works. Socko sings, “don’t you know the world is built with blood, and genocide, and exploitation”, which is an unfortunate truth that often gets swept under the rug in history classes. The musical aspect of the song is thus significant because it seeks to stress how children and teenagers are often educated with false accounts of how the world really works, as the suffering of marginalized and racialized peoples is often not confronted. Further, the interlude conversation between Bo and Socko exemplifies white privilege and how white people often expect racialized people to educate them on racial issues and inequalities. Bo asks, “What can I do to help?”, to which Socko replies, “Read a book or something. I don’t know. Just don’t burden me with the responsibility of educating you. It’s incredibly exhausting.” Actively becoming anti-racist requires putting in the work to educate yourself and to confront your own biases and privilege, not to rely on racialized peoples to provide you with such education free of charge. Refusing to do this work creates further obstacles and upholds racist systems built on inequality and exploitation. His song Problematic confronts similar issues along a different vein; specifically performative allyship and apologies for misdeeds among social media influencers, celebrities, and other influential figures. Bo speaks about how people will often use their past experiences and sheltered upbringings to justify ignorance, as opposed to facing their ignorance head on and taking full responsibility for their actions. 

Circling back to the overarching theme of depression, the song Look Who’s Inside Again confronts a unique issue that many of us have experienced as a product of the pandemic: isolation induced agoraphobia. Existing in a constant state of seclusion has instilled feelings of fear when it comes to leaving our homes. When we spend more time in solitude, we begin to experience an uncomfortable sense of comfort within the confines of our homes, in which we dread leaving them. Bo sings, “Well, well, look who’s inside again. Went out to look for a reason to hide again”. These lyrics can be interpreted in a multitude of ways – perhaps speaking to how some of us will stock up on groceries and other necessities so we can avoid leaving our homes more frequently, or how an uncomfortable or awkward social interaction can lead us to desire the aloneness that we simultaneously find so suffocating. 

There are many other phenomenal songs included in Inside, but I’ll finish off by discussing Welcome to the Internet. The vibe of this song is chaotic carnival music, which perfectly suits the theme of complete cyberspace pandemonium. Welcome to the Internet accentuates the miscellany of information and accessibility to such information on the internet, which can be wholesome and beneficial or inherently corrupt and harmful. This piece clearly seeks to highlight how the internet is not a neutral space: it is host to biases, hatred, and harm. Further, accessibility to essentially all information has created an “insatiable” generation that often feels unsatisfied despite the wealth of knowledge at our fingertips, sometimes even leading to the development of “dissociative mental disorders” or experiencing “derealization”. Bo speaks to the prevalence of the internet in our lives by stating that digital spaces are more “real” than the spaces we find when we log off and enter the world outside. He jokes that “One should only engage with the outside world as one engages with a coal mine: suit up gather what is needed and return to the surface”. While this statement is supposedly humorous, it’s indicative of a very real issue, which is that quarantine has led many of us to perceive the online world as the “real” world, because it enables us to maintain contact with the people we saw prior to the pandemic, whereas leaving our homes is generally only done out of necessity, and it can feel incredibly disorienting to enter a word that feels so unlike anything we’ve ever experienced. At the end of the special, Bo re-enters the outside world, tentatively stepping towards his front door, which is slightly ajar and letting in a sliver of golden light. Once outside, Bo is met with applause from an unseen crowd, then wishes to return inside his home. He finds himself locked outside, which leads him to engage in overexaggerated attempts to open the door, coupled with an uproarious laugh-track. Defeated, Bo slumps to the floor and closes in on himself. This scene is the perfect was to bring the special to a close, as it confronts a fear that many of us have developed, which is not knowing exactly how to re-enter the new-post-pandemic-reality. 

While the special wasn’t exactly what many people expected, it’s what many of us needed. We seem to be nearing the end of this solitude-centred reality, which has been rife with depression, grief, loss, and anxieties, so I want you to take a moment to acknowledge everything you’ve overcome, and then challenge you to critically engage with the special the next (or first) time you watch it!