“I heard joke once: Man goes to doctor. Says he's depressed. Life seems harsh, and cruel. Says he feels all alone in threatening world. Doctor says: "Treatment is simple. The great clown - Pagliacci - is in town. Go see him. That should pick you up." Man bursts into tears. "But doctor..." he says "I am Pagliacci." Good joke. Everybody laugh. Roll on snare drum. Curtains.”
-Rorschach, “Watchmen”
Bo Burnham walk onto the stage, bows, and opens his act with a joke about not know anything about the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict. He is now 25, almost a decade older than when he sang about how his family thought he was gay on a site called “YouTube” that was just taking off. He has 3 comedy specials under his belt, a hilarious book of poetry, a short-lived MTV series and more YouTube, Vine, and Instagram followers than a man could ever want. He is famous, the comedic voice of the Millennial generation and he is not happy.
Burnham’s newest Netflix special, “Make Happy,” is rife with biting criticism of a culture that he feels props up not only vapid country music stars and Katy Perry, but himself as well. He snaps at a fan when he cheers after Burnham mentions Kendrick Lamar, mentioning that this is HIS time to shine. He lists off the prices of his intricately choreographed set pieces and lights, and then tells the audience that it would have been better off as money spent to feed a homeless person. He sings a song about how country music has become dominated by artists who’ve never worked a day in their lives crooning to the working class, followed by a gag about an alcoholic couple fighting over a sandwich. He is manic in his energy, forcing his audience to deal with the cognitive dissonance of Bo trying to be real to himself while still pleasing them. At one point in the show, he even tells the audience that no one should be laughing, because life is not funny. The set ends with a beautiful vocal piece about his struggles, leaving you with an emotional gut-punch thrown with the spirit of Mohammed Ali. His special is depressing, especially given that he is taking a long hiatus to focus on writing. The special is about breakups, and loneliness, and the mask Bo feels he wears on stage. It is reflective, poignant, and at some times, almost a cry for help. He is the modern Pagliacci, dying on the inside on our behalf.
And yet, it is hilarious.
There is something about the genuine and no-holds barred in your faceness that sends chills up my spine while I’m in tears laughing. The balance of writing a song about eating a dick mixed with the fragility of masculinity and the inability for men to convey emotion in modern society, the constant Meta references to the art of comedy- there is something absolutely brilliant about his work. Burnham toys with the line between comedy and performance art, and asks us why we draw a line between the two to begin with. It is a brand of comedy unseen in the modern age: one of rehearsed choreography, cued sound effects and almost no improvisation. He constantly makes it known to the audience that “This is all fake.” To quote his last special “Art is a lie, nothing is real.”
Burnham in “Make Happy” is able to articulate something that many people who are “successful” yet unhappy do: That what society, or even YOURSELF assigns as “the key to happiness” is not. Burnham in his closing remarks wonders if he even wants happiness, and if he has gotten used to or welcomes the “panicked” lifestyle he lives. He is the everyman who has it all, and yet, he is constantly questioning himself and the world that put him in his place. He wishes to dismantle the same celebrity culture that drove him to popularity, and dares his viewers to “Live without an audience.”
I ended up relating to Bo more than I thought I would. I too was “successful” when I took a semester off from college, with a stellar GPA, good friends, and an active campus life. But I still wasn’t happy, and I felt extremely selfish for being so. I saw people almost leaving college due to finances, minority students being threatened in the environment I have felt safest in and injustices from all over the world. What right did I have to be unhappy? But what Bo showed me in “Make Happy” was that regardless of where you stood in life, you might not have the answers. Bo is unhappy and confused, so I could be too.
Wherever Mr. Burnham is going, I wish him the best. I do not wish to take to the Twittersphere to tell him to come back, or holler at him from an audience that he doesn’t know what to do with. I am content to know that Bo Burnham is unhappy, and that is OK. So whatever you choose to do Bo, I hope you find somewhere you are content. Whether it be from your writing, a good book, or a dog. No one should ever tell you are supposed to be happy, that’s up to you to determine.
Can I buy a T-shirt though?
