- There are movies that court controversy, and then there is Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan, which I will mercifully refer to simply as Borat from here on out. The film, like most of Sacha Baron Cohen's work, applies offensive stereotypes and broad humor as litmus tests to both the audience and the film's stars, witting and unwitting alike. If you laugh too hard at Cohen's antics, you might be racist, sexist, homophobic, etc. (Cohen's gags are diverse enough that the possibilities are myriad.) If you don't laugh at all, you must not have a pulse.
- The delivery mechanism for this specific satire is the eponymous Kazakh Borat Sagdiyev, portrayed masterfully by Cohen himself. Simply put, Borat is what some Americans would quickly label a "foreigner." Hailing from what one assumes is a completely fictionalized version of Kazakhstan, an impoverished and backward nation organized largely around Anti-Semitism, Borat is the manifestation of every Eastern European stereotype you can imagine and some you probably weren't even aware of. But now he's headed to New York and beyond with his rotund television producer Azamat (Ken Davitian) nominally to learn about America and to propel his native Kazakhstan into the modern world. God help us all.
- As was also the case in Cohen's film Bruno, some of the real-life characters in Borat absolutely deserve to be outed as idiots, like the rodeo fans who clap for Borat's call to destroy Iraq but draw the line at the absolutely hilarious potassium and prostitute-focused Kazakh National Anthem. Other deserving targets include the members of the Southern Dining Club who actually seem less offended by a bag of shit than by the appearance of a black woman (Luenell Campbell), the Pentecostal Church where speaking in tongues is the norm, and the RV full of drunken frat boys who say some predictably ignorant things about women and minorities. Sure, some of these people were baited (as later lawsuits would reveal), but there's only so much baiting can do.
- The rest of the film is an intentionally weird mix of tones. When Cohen insults "asshole" Uzbekistan, buys an ice cream truck from a car dealer, or discusses his sadly unreciprocated infatuation with Pamela Anderson, you'll laugh. When he makes jokes at the expense of the painfully friendly Jewish owners of a bed & breakfast or chases random people down the streets of New York, you'll wince. When he enters into a protracted nude brawl with Davitian (whose bravery when it comes to physical comedy cannot be overstated), you'll laugh and wince at the same time. But that, of course, is the whole idea. I remain unconvinced whether this approach to satire helps, hurts, or just entertains, but there's no doubt in my mind that Cohen is the master of his unique style of comedy.
