I must admit that I anticipated Sacha Baron Cohen’s newest creation, the story of flaming Austrian fashionista Brüno, with some trepidation. Of his three primary characters–clueless Kazahk Borat, jungle-music obsessed Ali G, and of course, Brüno, it was the flamboyant walking stereotype that I thought was the least interesting or funny of the trio.
Ali G brought the world some great moments of uncomfortable self-reflection when he poked fun at celebrity worship in his interview of the Beckhams, and when he attempted to bring together scientists and infamous creationist Kent Hovind, revealing both sides’ deep biases and internal philosophical inconsistencies.
Under the skin of Borat’s jokes and offensive gags, we saw commentary about American culture. The patience and professionalism of Borat’s driving school instructor was a reminder of the core goodness of the people that we see in our neighborhoods each day. The scene at the rodeo showed how groupthink and blind patriotism can lead people to shout their collective agreement with even the most offensive of statements, simply because they are expected to.
If you come to see Brüno looking for the level of self-deprecating reflection that you saw in Borat, you will be sorely disappointed. If Borat used penis humor as a way to ease us into his more important message about who we are as a people, Brüno is so saturated with tasteless, pointless humor that it is difficult to decipher any message at all.
Sadly, even Brüno’s “plot” about the erstwhile celebrity, abandoned mid-film by his faithful assistant, only to seek solace in religious experience, is a blow-by-blow remake of the skeleton plot of Borat. In this film, however, Brüno seeks gay reparative therapy to change his same-sex attraction. In what is probably my favorite scene of the movie, he encounters a “de-gayifier” who admonishes him to avoid the Village People, lest their disco tunes tempt him back into the arms of a man.
Overall, Brüno has the feeling of being much more staged and coached than Borat. I have no doubt that when Brüno appeared on the set of Medium (also produced by NBC-Universal) as an extra, the actors were in on the joke. On the other hand, I am relatively certain that the CBS programming executive who sat through a test screening of a proposed Brüno TV show was not in on the joke, and it showed in the shocked look on his face when he saw a singing erect penis on the screen.
Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy the schadenfreude of seeing Paula Abdul talked into using migrant workers as furniture and uncomfortably continuing the interview until leaving in disgust. I appreciate him poking fun at the ridiculous PR escapades of celebrities, from the trendy adopting of African babies to Abdul’s declaration that her charity work is “like the air I breathe.” At moments, seemingly by accident, the film does shine its light on relevant cultural issues. But it never does so with the depth of field or raw passion that I was hoping for.
The climax–in which Brüno riles up a crowd of ultimate fighting fans in Arkansas, only to disappoint them with a heavy dose of man-on-man kissing and groping–seems to be nothing more than a desperate attempt to repeat the severe, brutal honesty of the classic rodeo scene in Borat. In this film, though, the set-up was so contrived and dishonest that I found myself cheering on the homophobic audience as they tossed their beers on the stage in anger. I wished I had a chair to throw at the stage too.
