Candid
Camera New
stunts from the creator of Borat by
Jason Blair
BRÜNO:
Directed by Larry Charles. Written by Sacha Baron Cohen, Anthony
Hines, Dan Mazur and Jeff Schaffer. Cinematography, Anthony Hardwick
and Wolfgang Held. Music, Erran Baron Cohen. Starring Sacha Baron
Cohen, Paula Abdul, Ron Paul and Harrison Ford. Universal Pictures,
2009. R. 83 minutes.
If you’ve been wondering, as I have, where comedian Michael Myers
went, look no further than Brüno, the new film by guerilla
comic Sacha Baron Cohen. In Brüno, vestiges of Austin
Powers loom large. Myers’ best work exudes a sweet Canadian
insanity — think of the gags involving male genitalia — the likes
of which you’d hardly expect in a film by Cohen. One of the surprising
disappointments of Brüno, in which a gay Austrian model tries
for fame in America, is how easily one spots its antecedents, from
Zoolander to The Spy Who Shagged Me. Given the fearless
originality of Borat, I expected something less derivative.
Instead, Cohen’s penis, which actually has a speaking part — it
introduces Bruno’s show like a tiny, helmeted Ed McMahon — appears
so often it should be listed in the credits. The problems with Brüno
are many, but none run deeper than the man behind the gland: Borat
offended us by an ignorance so profound the ignorant found it sympathetic,
inspiring them to reveal their prejudice. Bruno, on the other hand,
is an archly superior fashionista nearly equal in stupidity to Borat
but nowhere near as sweet.
Then there are problems with the format. Whereas Borat is
presented as a documentary, it is in fact a Spinal Type-like
mockumentary with a careful mixture of scripted and impromptu humor.
Brüno is more scripted than impromptu — much more, one suspects,
since some “impromptu” scenes apparently were scripted. This raises
the question of whether Cohen’s recognizability has reduced his
ability to infiltrate the public arena. It also raises questions
of judgment and taste. The bits written in advance are often dull
and offensive, like Cohen’s attempt to create a sex tape with Congressman
Ron Paul. Structurally, Brüno resembles a staircase in which
every step down leads to yet another doomed plan by Bruno to achieve
celebrity recognition. He tests a TV concept called “Keep It or
Abort It,” in which guests rate the attractiveness of a celebrity
fetus. From a baggage claim carousel, he lifts a baby from a box
— a black baby, which he later claims to have traded for an iPod.
(The concept was to mimic Angelina Jolie.) There is brilliance in
Brüno, but the jokes feel arbitrary and scattershot, leaving
us with little to think about.
There’s too much energy required just figuring out what Brüno
is, comedy or documentary, and not nearly enough time in which Bruno
interacts with unsuspecting twits. When he catches the right people
at the right time, it’s hilarious, such as his interview with the
gay “converter” in Alabama, who advises him to take up lifting weights
with other men, or the cage fighting event he hosts as a new character,
“Straight Dave,” who ends up making out with a member from the audience.
In Arkansas, no less. Still, much of Brüno is an indiscriminate,
bottom-trawling affair. By comparison, Borat is a child’s
fable. It is also a much more focused look at ignorance in our midst.
Only occasionally funny and without much cultural relevance, Brüno
will be enjoyed by committed fans of Cohen and those who enjoy vicious
humiliation comedy. Fans of straight comedy should take a pass on
Brüno.