Bo Burnham: Words, Words, Words

Well, what does it matter, anyway? Bo Burnham doesn’t need your approval, and still less does he need mine. For every person seeing him tonight, around 250,000 more will have viewed one of his YouTube videos. He has a Comedy Central special and a Judd Apatow movie under his belt. Whatever the contents of this review, he’s going to be just fine.

And—let’s get this straight at the start—with good reason. At the age of 19, Burnham has a quixotic, perfectly formed gift we may as well call genius. His ideas are stunningly original, his delivery flawless, his timing and judgment of pace exceptional. Here, he sits in front of an electric piano, fingers cascading down the keyboard as he spits out sharp, quirky observations. There, he perches on a stool, reciting haikus, flirting with physical comedy and, just for a change, filling the room with silence.

All of which is wonderful, except for one thing: you don’t actually laugh that much. Amid the pop culture references and Shakespearean porn sonnets, a show so breathtaking in scope is strangely lacking in perspective. What’s missing is any sense that Burnham is performing to you rather than at you. You might as well be in your bedroom, watching one of his grainy YouTube clips.

Such lessons will surely be learnt with time. For a Fringe debutant, Burnham is outstandingly assured, and obscene success is doubtless heading his way. He knows it too, which is part of the problem. Until he learns to engage, he’ll remain far easier to admire than like.