You Might Just Get to Be a Daddy Again Lyrics
"Inside" feels like the artistic culmination of Bo Burnham's career over the last 15 years, starting with his first viral YouTube video in 2006.
Burnham was just 16 years old when he wrote a parody song ("My Whole Family unit...") and filmed himself performing it in his chamber. He uploaded it to YouTube, a then barely-known website that offered an easy style for people to share videos, so he could transport it to his brother.
Burnham had no idea that his song would be seen more than x 1000000 times, nor that it would kick commencement his career in a niche brand of self-enlightened musical comedy.
Fifteen years later, Burnham found himself sheltering in place during the COVID-19 pandemic and decided to sit down back down at his piano and see if he could once more entertain the earth from the claustrophobic confines of a single room.
The result, a special titled "Inside," shows all of Burnham'due south brilliant instincts of parody and meta-commentary on the role of white, male entertainers in the world and of poisons found in cyberspace culture — that digital space that gave him a career and fostered a damaging anxiety disorder that led him to quit performing live one-act after 2015.
But at present Burnham is dorsum. Instead of a alive performance, he's recorded himself in isolation over the form of a year.
So let'due south dive into "Within" and accept a closer await at well-nigh every song and sketch in Burnham'due south special.
The opening shot of "Inside" makes it articulate that Burnham is threading the start of his new special with the very stop of his 2022 special, "Make Happy."
"Inside" kicks off with Burnham reentering the aforementioned small studio space he used for the terminate of "Brand Happy," when the 2016 Netflix special transitioned from the live stage to Burnham all of a sudden sitting downward at his piano by himself to sing one final song for the at-dwelling house audition.
At the beginning of "Inside," Burnham is not only coming back to that same room, but he's wearing a very similar outfit: jeans, T-shirt, and sneakers — picking upwardly correct back where he left off.
Performing "Brand Happy" was mentally taxing on Burnham. Years later on, the comedian told NPR'south Terry Gross that performing the special was so tough that he was having panic attacks on stage.
He decided to stop doing live performances, and instead set out to write and straight his first feature flick, the critically-acclaimed 2022 film "8th Class." He also costarred in the Oscar-winning picture "Promising Immature Woman," filmed in 2019.
How "Make Happy" concluded is vital to understanding the offset of "Within."
During the last 15 minutes of "Make Happy," Burnham turns the comedy switch down a scrap and begins talking to the audience nearly how his one-act is almost always virtually performing itself because he thinks people are, at all times, doing a "performance" for one some other.
"They say it's like the 'me' generation. It's not. The arrogance is taught or information technology was cultivated. It's self-conscious. That's what information technology is. It'south conscious of self. Social media; it's just the market's answer to a generation that demanded to perform so the market said, hither, perform. Perform everything to each other, all the fourth dimension for no reason. It's prison. Its horrific."
Burnham then kicks back into vocal, still addressing his audience, who seem unsure of whether to laugh, applaud, or sit somberly in their chairs.
"A part of me loves you, part of me hates you," he sang to the crowd. "Part of me needs y'all, function of me fears you lot. And I don't call back that I can handle this right now. Look at them, they're but staring at me, like 'Come and lookout the skinny child with a steadily declining mental health, and laugh as he attempts to give you what he cannot give himself.'"
At the start of "Inside," Burnham says he's been "a piddling depressed" and then he'due south going to try getting back to work.
"Robert'southward been a petty depressed, no!" he sings as he refers to his birth name. "And then today I'm gonna attempt just getting upwardly, sitting down, going dorsum to work. Might not help merely notwithstanding it couldn't hurt. I'm sitting down, writing jokes, singing silly songs, I'm sad I was gone. Just look, I made you some content. Daddy made you your favorite, open wide."
Right after the song ends, the shot of Burnham's guest house returns but this time information technology'south filled with clutter.
The clean, tidy interior that first continued "Inside" with "Make Happy" is gone — in its place is a mess-riddled space.
The championship card appears in white, then changes to red, signaling that a camera is recording.
Burnham makes it clear that "Inside" is a poioumenon — a type of artistic work that tells the story of its ain creation.
Poioumenon (from the Greek word for "production") is a term created past writer Alastair Fowler and usually used to refer to a kind of metafiction.
"The poioumenon is calculated to offer opportunities to explore the boundaries of fiction and reality – the limits of narrative truth," Fowler wrote in his book "A History of English Literature."
TikTok creator @TheWoodMother made a video nearly how Burnham'southward "Inside" is its ain poioumenon thank you to the meta scenes of Burnham setting up lights and cameras, not to mention the musical numbers like "Content" and "Comedy" that all help to tell the story of Burnham making this new special.
Having this frame of reference may help viewers better understand the design of "Inside." Burnham is an extraordinary actor, and "Within" often feels similar we're watching the intimate, real interior life of an artist. But by using this meta-narrative throughout the whole special, Burnham messes with our ability to know when we're seeing a genuine struggle with creative expression versus a meticulously staged fictional breakdown.
His first total song in "Within" is a parody of his own internal debate over whether or non he should be "joking at a fourth dimension like this" — consummate with a whiteboard mapping how to tell if a joke is funny or not.
The flow chat for "Is it funny?" begins with the question "Is it mean?" and concludes that if information technology's hateful, information technology's not funny.
On the other two sides of that question ("no" and "non sure") the flowchart asks if information technology could exist "interpreted" as mean (if then, then it's "not funny") or if it "punches down."
How does one know if the joke punches down?
Burnham wrote out: "Does information technology target those who accept been disenfranchised in a historical, political, social, economical and/or psychological context?"
If the reply is yes, then it'southward not funny.
This whiteboard comedy equation seems to hearken back to one of Burnham's songs from his very kickoff Netflix special.
Not only is this whiteboard a play on the classic one-act rule that "tragedy plus time equals comedy," simply it's a callback to Burnham's older piece of work.
In his outset Netflix special (2013's "what."), Burnham sang a parody vocal chosen "Sad" about, well, all the sad stuff in the globe. But by the end of the melody, his narrative changes into irreverence.
"Everything that once was sad is somehow funny at present, the Holocaust and 9/eleven, that s---'s funny, 24-7, 'cause tragedy will be exclusively joked about, because my empathy iss aimless me out," he sang. "Adieu sadness, hello jokes!"
At present, five years later, Burnham's new parody song is earthworks even deeper at the philosophical question of whether or non information technology's appropriate to be creating comedy during a horrifyingly raw period of tragedy similar the COVID-nineteen pandemic and the social reckoning that followed George Floyd'due south murder.
After the "FaceTime with My Mom" vocal, Burnham shows another behind-the-scenes look at himself working. A wink epitome appears in the corner, showing himself roleplaying as a Twitch streamer.
This plays well-nigh like a glitch and goes unexplained until afterward in the special when a sketch plays out with Burnham as a Twitch streamer who is testing out a game called "INSIDE" (in which the actor has to take a Bo Burnham video game grapheme practice things like cry, play the piano, and find a flashlight in order to consummate their day).
Past inserting that Twitch character in this earlier scene, Burnham was seemingly giving a peek into his daily routine.
The vocal "White Woman'south Instagram" is edited primarily into the square format of an Instagram photo, but the aspect ratio opens up when the song touches on an example of genuine emotion.
Throughout the song and its accompanying visuals, Burnham is highlighting the "girlboss" aesthetic of many white women's Instagram accounts. The tropes he says you may find on a white adult female's Instagram folio are peppered with cultural appropriation ("a dreamcatcher bought from Urban Outfitters") and ignorant political takes ("a random quote from 'Lord of the Rings' misattributed to Martin Luther King").
But during the span of the song, he imagines a post from a woman dedicated to her expressionless female parent, and the aspect ratio on the video widens.
It's as if Burnham is showing how wholesale judgments about the way people choose to use social media can gloss over earnest, genuine expressions of love and grief being shared online.
He's also giving the states a visual representation of the way social media feeds tin jarringly swing between shallow photos and emotional posts about trauma and loss.
At the terminate of the song, "Inside" cuts to a shot of Burnham watching his own video on a computer in the dark. He's self-evaluating his own visual cosmos in the aforementioned way people will oftentimes get back to look at their Instagram stories or posts to see how it looks subsequently they've shared it.
Burnham's unabridged comedic ethos tin be summed up in the reaction-to-the-reaction-of-the-reaction video bit.
Adjacent in his special, Burnham performs a sketch song about beingness an unpaid intern, and and then says he'south going to practice a "reaction" video to the song in classic YouTube format. Only then the video keeps playing, and and so he winds upwards reacting to his own reaction, then reacting yet again to that reaction.
At the second level of the reaction video, Burnham says: "I'chiliad being a little pretentious. It'southward an instinct that I have where I need everything that I write to take some deeper significant or something, but it'due south a stupid song and it doesn't really mean anything, and it's pretty unlikable that I feel this desperate need to be seen as intelligent."
Then he moves into a new layer of reaction, where he responds to that previous annotate.
"I'chiliad criticizing my initial reaction for being pretentious, which is honestly a defense force mechanism," he says. "I'm and so worried that criticism will exist levied confronting me that I levy it confronting myself earlier anyone else can. And I think that, 'Oh if I'g cocky-aware almost being a douchebag it'll somehow brand me less of a douchebag.' But it doesn't. Self-sensation does not absolve everyone of anything."
Burnham's career as a immature, white, male comedian has often felt distinct from his peers considering of the amount of public self-reflection and acknowledgment of his own privileges that he does on stage and off screen. (For example, the song "Direct, White, Male" from the "Make Happy" special).
Every bit he shows in this new sketch, he's aware at a meta level that but trying to go ahead of the criticism that could be tossed his way is itself a functioning sometimes. He's freely admitting that self-sensation isn't enough while as well clearly unable to move away from that self-enlightened comedic space he and so brilliantly holds.
During "Sexting," Burnham's projector shows a text from someone spiraling while trying to communicate about making certain both parties are enjoying the experience.
To relieve y'all the time freeze-framing, here's the complete message:
"No pressure level past the way at any point we tin cease i just desire to make certain ur comfy all this and please dont experience obligated to send anything yous dont desire to just cuz i want things doesnt hateful i should get them and its sometimes confusing because i retrieve y'all enjoy it when i beg and express how much i desire yous but i dont ever want that to turn into you feeling pressured into doing something you don't want or feeling similar youre disappointing me this is just meant to be fun and if at whatever point its not fun for you nosotros can stop and im sorry if me saying this is killing the mood i just like —"
Also, Burnham'south air conditioner is set to precisely 69 degrees throughout this whole imitation music video.
Next, Burnham does some introspection on the video that started his whole career: "My Whole Family unit."
"Trying to exist funny and stuck in a room, in that location isn't much more to say nearly information technology," he starts in a new song later fumbling a first accept. "I was a kid who was stuck in his room, in that location isn't much more to say almost information technology. When yous're a kid and yous're stuck in your room, y'all'll do any quondam s--- to get out of information technology."
At first hearing, this is a elementary set of lyrics virtually the way kids bargain with struggles throughout adolescence, particularly things like anxiety and depression .
Burnham spent his teen years doing theater and songwriting, which led to his first viral video on YouTube — a song he now likely categorizes every bit "offensive."
Burnham has been open about the way his own standards for "appropriate" comedy take changed rapidly in the concluding 15 years.
When he appeared on NPR'south radio show "Fresh Air" with Terry Gross in 2018, the host played a clip of "My Whole Family" and Burnham took his headphones off so he didn't have to relisten to the song.
The song, written in 2006, is about how his whole family unit thinks he'southward gay, and the diverse conversations they're having trying to figure it out.
"I was in a full torso sweat, so I didn't hear most of that," Burnham said after the clip played. "Truly, information technology's like, for a 16-yr-old kid in 2006, it's corking. But the cultural standards of what is advisable comedy and also the inner standards of my own heed have changed rapidly since I was sixteen."
When asked nigh the inspiration for the song, similar if people he knew idea he was gay, Burnham said, "A lot of my shut friends were gay, and, you know, I wasn't certain I wasn't at that bespeak."
Gross asked Burnham if people "misinterpreted" the vocal and idea information technology was homophobic.
"I don't know that it's not," he said. "I don't defend my 16-year-sometime comedy at all ... I have a lot of material from back and then that I'm not proud of and I call back is offensive and I recall is non helpful."
"I exercise non think my intention was homophobic, but what is the implicit comedy of that song if you chase it all the fashion downwards? I don't retrieve it's perfectly morally defendable."
That'southward why a chilling, droning audio plays during the next shot of Burnham watching that get-go viral video on a projector before cutting to a song about holding him accountable.
"Problematic" is a roller coaster of self-sensation, masochism, and parody.
The whole video is filmed like ane big thirst trap as he sweats and works out. Merely the lyrics Burnham sings seem to imply that he wants to be held accountable for thoughtless and offensive jokes of his past:
"Father please forgive me for I did not realize what I did, or that I'd live to regret information technology, times are irresolute and I'm getting erstwhile, are you gonna hold me answerable?"
Information technology's as if Burnham knows there are valid criticisms of him that oasis't really stuck in the public soapbox around his work. Instead, thank you to his ultra-cocky-aware manner, he seems to e'er become ahead of criticism by holding himself accountable first.
He puts himself on a cross using his projector, and the whole video is him exercising, like he'south training for when he'southward inevitably "canceled."
The final shot is of him looking positively orgasmic, eyes closed, on the cross. Like he's parodying white people who remember that by crucifying themselves start they're somehow freed from the consequences of their actions. Burnham may too be trying to parody the hollow, PR-scripted apologies that celebrities will trot out before they've peradventure had the time to self-reflect and actually understand what people are trying to concord them accountable for.
When Burnham knocks his camera over, it seems like a truly accidental moment. Just in his past specials, Burnham has meticulously timed "accidents" as a manner to mess with the audience.
Known as "Fine art is a Lie, Zip is Existent," there's a bit Burnham did at the start of his 2013 special "what." that shows this exact meta style. While talking to the audience during the opening section, Burnham takes a sip out of a water bottle.
"This testify is called 'what.,' and I hope there are some surprises for you," he says as he goes to set up down the water bottle.
But Burnham doesn't put the bottle down correct, and information technology falls off the stool.
"Oh Jesus, sad," Burnham says, hurrying over to option it upwardly. "That's a proficient first."
Right as Burnham is straightening upwardly, music begins clarion over the speakers and Burnham's own voice sings: "He meant to knock the water over, yes yeah yeah, but y'all all thought it was an accident. Merely he meant to knock the water over, yep aye yeah, art is a lie — nothing is real."
He then pulls the same joke once more, letting the song play afterwards the audience'south applause and so information technology seems like a mistake. Simply then the music tells the audition that "he meant to play the track again" and that "fine art's yet a lie, nothing's still real."
So in "Within," when we see Burnham recording himself doing lighting fix and so accidentally pull down his photographic camera — was that a existent boner he decided to edit in? Or was it an elaborate callback to his earlier piece of work, planted for fans seeking evidence that art is lie?
Adjacent, Bo ruminates on turning 30 years sometime after working on the special for vi months. His past self appears for a split second, mirroring the earlier bleep in the special.
Think how Burnham's older, more-bearded self popped upwards at the beginning of "Within" when nosotros were watching footage of him setting up the cameras and lighting?
Well at present the shots are reversed. An older Burnham sits at a stool in front of a clock, and he says into a microphone that he's been working on the special for half-dozen months at present. That'due south when the younger Burnham, the one from the starting time of his special-filming days, appears.
It's a reminder, coming almost exactly halfway through the special, of the cost that this year is taking on Burnham.
He says his goal had been to complete filming before his 30th birthday. Just, similar so many other plans and hopes people had in the early months of the pandemic, that goal proved unattainable.
After a brief "interruption," nosotros finally come across the total version of the Twitch-streamer-Bo who glitched into the special earlier.
This sketch, like the "White Adult female Instagram" vocal, shows one of Burnham's writing techniques of bringing a mutual Internet culture into a fictionalized chip. You lot can tell that he's watched a ton of livestream gamers, and picked upwards on their intros, the mode the talk with people in the chat, the cadence of their commentary on the game, everything.
Burnham accomplished a similar uncanny sense of realism in his movie "Eighth Form," the protagonist of which is a thirteen-twelvemonth-erstwhile girl with extreme social anxiety who makes self-assistance YouTube videos.
Burnham has said in interviews that his inspiration for the graphic symbol came from real YouTube videos he had watched, most with simply a handful of views, and saw the way young women expressed themselves online.
There's too another little joke broiled into this bit, because the game is made by a visitor called SSRI interactive — the most common class of antidepressant drugs are called selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors, aka SSRIs.
When the game ends, the screen says "another nighttime approaches" and so it cuts to Burnham getting into bed. This kicks of a section of the special that seems entirely focused on a downward mental spiral.
While he's laying in bed, optics about the close, the screen shows a flash of an open up door. It'due south a hint at the promised future; the possibility of once again being able to go exterior and feel sunlight over again.
But before that can annals, Burnham's eyes accept airtight and the special transitions to the uncannily tricky song "S---," bopping about how he hasn't showered in nine days or done whatever laundry.
"That Funny Feeling" is a song about things that brand y'all feel similar you're living in a warped simulation or accept totally disassociated from reality, or perhaps accept begun to accept that we're at the edge of the collapse of civilization.
In the vocal, Burnham specifically mentions looking up "derealization," a disorder that may "feel similar y'all're living in a dream."
The Mayo Clinic defines depersonalization-derealization disorder as occurring "when you persistently or repeatedly have the feeling that yous're observing yourself from exterior your body or you lot take a sense that things around you aren't existent, or both. Feelings of depersonalization and derealization can be very agonizing and may experience like you're living in a dream."
Some of the things he mentions that requite him "that funny feeling" include discount Etsy agitprop (aka communist-themed merchandise) and the Pepsi halftime testify.
When Burnham says "20,000 years of this, 7 more to go," he's likely referring to the window of time nosotros take to take action against global warming earlier its effects are irreversible.
In the song "That Funny Feeling," Burnham mentions these two year spans without further explanation, only it seems like he'southward referencing the "critical window for action to prevent the effects of global warming from becoming irreversible."
"On September 17, the clock began counting downwardly from 7 years, 103 days, 15 hours, 40 minutes and 7 seconds, displayed in red," the Smithsonian reported. "If greenhouse gas emissions continue at their current rate, then when the clock runs out, the average global temperature will be irreversibly on its way to two.vii degrees Fahrenheit above pre-industrial levels."
Thought modernistic humans have been effectually for much longer than 20,000 years, that's effectually how long agone people first migrated to N America. And so for our own petty piece of the world, Burnham'southward ii time spans seem to be referencing the outset and end of an era in our civilization.
"The quiet comprehending of the ending of information technology all," is some other of Burnham's lyrics in this song that seems to speak to the idea that culture is nearing collapse, and also touches on suicidal ideation.
It also seems noteworthy that this is i of the just sketches in "Within" that fades to blackness. While the other songs accept precipitous endings, or harsh transitions, "That Funny Feeling" just fades quietly into darkness — perhaps the way Burnham imagines the catastrophe of it all will happen.
Burnham's aroused outburst scene takes place in front of the aforementioned projected background as his "Comedy" song.
The picturesque view of dominicus-soaked clouds was featured in "Comedy," during the section of the vocal when Burnham stood up and decided that the just thing he (or his graphic symbol in the song) could exercise was "heal the world with comedy."
Throughout "Inside," there's a huge variety of light and groundwork set-ups used, then information technology seems unlikely that this particular deject-scape was just randomly called twice.
When we run into it once more towards the end of the special, it'south from a new camera angle. At present Burnham is showing us the clutter of the room, where he's almost claustrophobically surrounded by equipment. He tries to talk into the microphone, giving his audience a ane-year update. Nosotros're a long way from the days when he filmed "Comedy" — and the contrast shows how fruitless this method of healing has been.
Burnham can't get through his words in the update as he admits he'due south been working on the special much longer than he'd anticipated. He slaps his leg in frustration, and somewhen gives a mirthless express mirth before he starts slamming objects effectually him.
The special is hit an emotional climax as Burnham shows us both intense anger and then immediately after, a deep and dark sadness.
The song "All Optics On Me" uses a song distortion on Burnham'due south voice, perhaps signaling that what we're hearing is the manifestation of depression trying to convince us to sink into the condolement of inertia.
Burnham uses song tuning oftentimes throughout all of his specials. But usually there is ane item vocalism that acts every bit a disembodied narrator character, some all-seeing strength that needles Burnham in the middle of his stand (similar the vox in "Brand Happy" that interrupts Burnham's gear up to call him the f-slur).
The vocal key used in "All Eyes On Me" could be meant to stand for depression, an outside strength that is rather adept at convincing our minds to but stay in bed, to not intendance, and to non try anymore. In the worst case, low can convince a person to stop their life.
"All Optics On Me" starts right afterward Burnham's outburst of anger and sadness. The atomic number 82-in is Burnham thanking a nonexistent audition for being there with him for the last yr. Merely we weren't. He was alone. And now low has its grips in him.
The song's melody is oddly soothing, and the lyrics are a sly manifestation of the way depression convinces you to stay in its abyss ("It's near over, it's just begun. Don't overthink this, look in my center don't be scared don't be shy come up on in the water's fine.")
An existential dread creeps in, but Burnham's depression-voice tells united states of america not to worry and sink into nihilism. The song is like having a religious feel with your own mental disorder.
"You say the ocean's rising, similar I give a s---, you say the whole world's ending, dear it already did, y'all're not gonna deadening it, heaven knows you tried," he sings. "Got it? Good. Now become inside."
During "All Eyes On Me," Burnham explains to his "audience" why he quit live comedy, and reveals that he had been ready to return correct before the pandemic hit.
He takes a break in the vocal to talk about how he was having panic attacks on stage while touring the "Make Happy" special, and so he decided to stop doing live shows.
"I didn't perform for 5 years," he says. "And I spent that fourth dimension trying to amend myself mentally. And y'all know what? I did! I got better. I got so much better, in fact, that in January of 2020, I thought 'you lot know what I should start performing again. I've been hiding from the world and I need to reenter.' And so the funniest affair happened."
By keeping that reveal until the terminate of the special, Burnham is dropping a hammer on the bodily at-domicile audience, letting the states know why his mental wellness has hit an ATL, every bit he calls information technology ("all time low").
In the groundwork of "All Eyes On Me," the photographic camera'south timestamp is frozen in identify — every bit if the camera isn't even recording anymore. We're all just in this dark, liminal infinite together.
There's no more than time left to add to the camera's clock. The bombardment is full, but no numbers are moving. Information technology'southward only Burnham, his room, the depressive-audio of his vocal, and usa watching as his distorted voice tries to convince us to join him in that darkness.
Partway through the vocal, the battery icon switches to low and starts blinking in alarm — as if decease is imminent.
"All Eyes On Me" is also the first time Burnham uses an extended handheld shot in the whole special.
The structured movements of the concluding hour and half fall away equally Burnham snaps at the audience: "Become up. Get up. I'm talking to you lot, get the f--- up."
He grabs the camera and swings it around in a circle every bit the vocal enters another chorus, and a fake audience cheers in the background. It feels like the ending of a prove, a climax, simply it's non.
Finally Burnham is shown "waking upwards," catastrophe the department of the special spent in the darkest possible mental space.
The scene cuts to black and we see Burnham waking up in his small pull-out couch bed, bookending the section of the special that started when him going to sleep. He brushes his teeth, eats a bowl of cereal, and begins editing his videos.
It's a quiet, banal scene that many people coming out of a depressive episode might recognize. Finally doing basic intendance tasks for yourself like eating breakfast and starting work in the morning time.
That quiet simplicity doesn't feel similar a relief, but it is. It's progress. Information technology's an emergence from the darkness. It'southward full circle from the get-go of the special, when Burnham sang nearly how he'south been depressed and decided to try just getting up, sitting down, and going back to work.
At last, Burnham sings his "Goodbye," and manages to go outside — merely to experience terrified and vulnerable in the spotlight.
Burnham brings back all the motifs from the earlier songs into his finale, revisiting all the stages of emotion he took us through for the final 90 minutes.
Merely and then, just as Burnham is vowing to always stay inside, and lamenting that he'll be "fully irrelevant and totally broken" in the future, the spotlight turns on him and he'southward completely naked.
A distorted voice is back once again, mocking Burnham every bit he sits exposed on his fake stage: "Well, well, look who's within again. Went out to look for a reason to hide again. Well, well, buddy yous found information technology, now come up out with your easily up nosotros've got you surrounded."
It'south a reprieve of the lyrics Burnham sang earlier in the special when he was reminiscing about being a kid stuck in his room. It'due south a heartbreaking chiding coming from his own distorted voice, every bit if he's shaming himself for sinking dorsum into that mental state.
For all the ways Burnham had been desperate to leave the confines of his studio, now that he's able to get dorsum out into the earth (and onto a real stage), he's terrified.
He'due south showing us how terrifying information technology tin be to present something you've made to the world, or to hear laughter from an audience when what you were hoping for was a genuine connectedness.
But in the end, Burnham watches back what he'south made, and smiles ever so slightly. Similar he's fix to be exterior again. And mayhap the rest of the states are prepare, too.
Burnham watching the terminate of his special on a projector also brings the poioumenon full circumvolve — the artist has finished their work and is showing you the end of the procedure it took to create it.
He'southward the author, director, editor, and star of this bear witness. Is he content with its content? Relieved to be washed? Still terrified of that spotlight? Only he knows.
Yous can stream "Inside" on Netflix now, and see our ranking of all 20 original songs from the special here.
Disclosure: Mathias Döpfner, CEO of Business Insider's parent visitor, Axel Springer, is a Netflix board member.
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Source: https://www.insider.com/bo-burnham-inside-special-details-analysis-breakdown-2021-6
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