.MOVIE LISTINGS | MOVIE REVIEW ARCHIVE | THEATER INFO Sheer Lunacy The home of the brave welcomes Sacha Baron Cohen BY JASON BLAIR BORAT: CULTURAL LEARNINGS OF AMERICA FOR MAKE BENEFIT GLORIOUS NATION OF KAZAKHSTAN: Directed by Larry Charles. Written by Sacha Baron Cohen, Peter Baynham, Anthony Hines and Dan Mazer. Cinematography, Luke Geissbuhler and Anthony Hardwick. Starring Sacha Baron Cohen, Ken Davitian and Pamela Anderson. Twentieth Century Fox, 2006. R. 84 minutes. On the surface of things — where, like pond scum, popular media vegetate — it's easy to see why Borat has created such a cultural stir. The character of Borat, who first appeared on Da Ali G Show as a naïve, porn-obsessed Kazakhstani TV reporter, carries gypsy tears to ward off AIDS. Ignorant, sexist and homophobic, Borat is an equal-opportunity offender. It's often difficult to tell just whom he's offending most. Look closely, however, and something complex emerges. Something resembling a method. Borat is a rampant anti-Semite, but his creator, Sacha Baron Cohen, is Jewish. Cohen, it turns out, has a degree from Cambridge. He spoke at Harvard's Class Day in 2004, albeit in the guise of his character Ali G. Borat is a provincial namby-pamby who believes that women don't deserve "to be educate" because their brains are the "size of squirrel." What is Cohen up to? Given that he's British, why is he doing it here? Borat follows Borat Sagdiyev (Cohen) and his producer Azamat (Ken Davitian) across the "U.S. and A." in an ice cream van. Fearless and by all signs ignorant of American culture, Borat inflicts himself upon the unsuspecting masses in one scene after another. They go to a rodeo, a gun shop and a Pentecostal revival, not to mention a confederate antiques store. At each venue, Borat's gently stupid remarks — about women, Jews, gays, you name it — elicits one of two reactions from locals: a complacency that is almost shocking, or an agreement that is so rambunctious it's scary. Is this ignorance or hate? Given their symbiotic relationship, the question Borat raises is, which one comes first? Presented as a documentary, in fact Borat is an ad-libbed mockumentary in which the fictional Borat, time and again, exposes the bigotry and prejudice of middle America. If it isn't the funniest film I've ever seen, it's certainly the most courageous. At its best, Borat is pure vigilante filmmaking, with the cameras out in the open unlike vanity projects like Punk'd. Cohen and his crew, to maintain the hoax, can never, ever break character on film. To our amazement, they never do. At its worst, Borat is a bad Saturday Night Live sketch, such as when Borat and Azamat have a prolonged naked fight with more crotch-sniffing than a dog kennel. A fearless film with a commando spirit, Borat is a necessary movie. The centerpiece of the film is a visit Borat makes to a Southern high society dinner. Trained to show courtesy to dinner guests, the Southerners tolerate Borat's crude behavior until they begin to get visibly irritated. Cohen, sensing he's losing his audience, arranges for a house call from a black prostitute. Things get ugly. She doesn't say she's a prostitute, but she doesn't need to say she's black. The socialites call the sheriff. It's devastating, but Cohen's timing and approach expose the dinner guests for what they are. What I don't like about humiliation comedy is the collateral damage beyond the primary "victims." Borat and Luellen, the prostitute, go out dancing together, and she shows up late in the film. But Luellen is Cohen's pawn, as is the TV producer in Jackson, Miss., who was fired after allowing Borat — in an unforgettable scene — to be interviewed on a live morning program. That leads me, finally, back to the question: What are we to make of all this? Certainly Cohen isn't the first to dramatize racism and bigotry to expose its stupidity. We had All in the Family for that. To be sure, Borat will make you uncomfortable. I had a full-body sweat throughout most of the picture. But its many transgressions are so randomly sprayed about — animals, the disabled, gypsies, religious groups — that Borat becomes an enormous mirror for every possible prejudice a person can have. In other words, it's satire. And it works beautifully. The ironic result of the film's current success is that Cohen probably won't unleash Borat again. As Borat's popularity increases, the subterfuge necessary for these interviews will disappear. If that's true, I will miss the sheer lunacy of the man who, after avian flu was discovered, showed up at a press conference with a sackful of birds. The birds, of course, were dead.
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