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Borat November 5, 2006 |
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Even the title of this movie is funny - “Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan”. If you’re in on Sasha Baron Cohen’s joke, and I think it doesn’t take long to get what he’s doing with his hilariously crude, sexist, and incredibly racist foreign journalist, you’ll know that the key phrases in that ungodly awkward title that stand out are “Cultural Learnings”, “Make Benefit”, and “Glorious Nation”, because not only is his travels through America to better understand the fabric of the “US and A” designed specifically to ridicule said “culture”, but in no way does it benefit either America or Borat’s rather un “glorious” nation of Kazakhstan, which bears just as many satirical bruises as America does throughout the film. The fact that such a ridiculous non-phrase as “Make Benefit” would even appear in the title, a nod to Borat’s specifically cracked form of English, is a tip to the viewer that this is all for show, but that doesn’t mean it’s not to be taken seriously, it’s just that with the best of satirical comedy, when it works, the outrageousness is so surreal, and downright gut-bustingly funny, that the gravity of the social criticism may be lost. For instance, we get a kick out of seeing Borat, the famous TV journalist from Kazakhstan traveling the States with his producer Azamat (Ken Davitian), sing his national anthem, in the guise of the ‘Star Spangled Banner’, to a stunned Texas rodeo crowd who earlier cheered his declaration of his support for Premier Bush’s “war of terror”, but the subtlety of the joke, of middle America’s often prejudiced view of themselves, and their country, as supermen (one unsuspecting racist cowboy tells him he’d be better received if he shaved his Arabic looking mustache off and changed his name), may not come through while you’re cracking up at his terrible singing and the faces of the angering western crowd. In other scenes it’s more obvious, like the way he ruins a stuffy upper class social dinner party by inviting a prostitute as his date, or the way he unknowingly offends three un-amused feminists by explaining the terribly sexist treatment of women in his home country, but in a late scene at a particularly wild Pentecostal camp revival, he refers to a “Mr. Jesus” to help him with his troubles, and fakes a resurrection by speaking in tongues that the entire camp buys as spiritual enlightenment. We get the joke, but what’s ultimately so special about this film, arguably the best single movie going experience you’ll have all season (especially with a receptive audience), is that Borat’s targets don’t, and though it’s never easy watching an imposter strip bare the ignorance of an unsuspecting civilian, most of who never saw, or had it coming (some though, like that cowboy, or a gun shop owner who doesn’t blink at Borat’s request for a gun to better fend off Jews, deservedly get what’s coming), the payoff is too good, too funny, and too smart to ignore. One of the best tricks Cohen has been able to pull off with Borat, a character he originated on his cable comedy show “Da Ali G Show”, is that he’s gotten the character accepted by the media with only minor controversy, despite jokes that offend practically every race, religion, and sexual orientation. Perhaps it’s because he’s so delightfully childish, with his big mustache, overgrown hair, dirty gray suit, and a vocabulary of broken English, and a basic misunderstanding of the language, which in the dinner party scene, where he can’t differentiate “retired” from “retarded”, leads to some painfully awkward silences, that renders him more innocent and charming than cruel and hateful. And then there’s Azamat, his obese producer, who puts up with Borat’s insane quest to travel west in search of Pamela Anderson (who appears in a brave cameo near the end), only to have a fall out in a hotel room where the two wrestle in the nude, commencing, after a brilliant interlude in a quite elevator, in a convention room filled with shocked mortgage brokers and angry security guards. The scene may be hard on the eyes (anyone with peculiarities about naked fat men need not apply), but it’s perhaps the funniest five minutes you’ll see all year (I’ve never heard such laughter at any screening in my entire life), and only solidifies Cohen’s brave commitment to his comedy, in which he’ll go to great lengths to secure the perfect visual compliment to his brand of satire, or in this case physical comedy, unlike Johnny Knoxville’s “Jackass” crew, who seem to harm themselves for the joy of it, with no desired meaning intended. Credit goes to director Larry Charles, who has a knack for directing improvised, socially uncomfortable comedy from his days with Larry David on “Curb Your Enthusiasm”, for bravely sending his crew along with Borat and Azamat into some situations that could have ended in violence, or jail, but the film wouldn’t be so memorable without the gifted timing and impeccable delivery of Sasha Baron Cohen who, in the best tradition of Jewish comics, knows that self deprecation can be the key to the perfect punch line. “Borat” may be offensive, crude, and without taste, but there’s nothing quite like it, it outshines even the best mock-documentaries like “This is Spinal Tap” and “Best in Show” in pure hilarious outrageousness and social satire, and by the end of it’s too brief 80-minutes you may be exhausted from laughter, but you’ll come out knowing that you’ve witnessed a revolutionary, revisionist comedic masterpiece, perhaps, as some have suggested, the funniest film of its kind ever made. “Borat” is playing at the Quaker Crossing Cinema in Orchard Park. by Adam Suraf
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