Many years ago scientists created a robotic bee that got accepted into a real hive. The experiment raises a basic question: What was more notable? The device itself, or the fact that real bees accepted it as one of their own?
That's the sort of question that crossed my mind when I watched "Borat." Even though Sacha Baron Cohen dresses up as a fictional character, he takes this character out into the real world and films the reactions of people who assume he is for real. Part of the humor comes from the character himself, but equally important is the way that innocent bystanders are taken in by his antics. Out of this footage and some staged material, he spins a fictional story about Borat, a Kazakhstani journalist filming a documentary while traveling across the United States.
At first, I had trouble formulating an opinion about the film, for the simple reason that it was so unlike anything I'd ever seen before that I had no point of comparison. Sure I laughed a lot, sometimes to the point of tears (the rodeo scene is tops for me). But usually when I'm watching a movie, I measure the experience by comparing it to other films. Here, my mind came up blank, because "Borat" is one of the few truly unique comedies I've seen. Not only is it one of the funniest movies in years, containing some of the most intriguing satire about racism since "All in the Family," it takes comedy to an entirely new plane.
I admit that I was slow to become a fan of Cohen's show. That's partly because his Ali G character was just a variant on something we've all seen many times before, even if the "Candid Camera" element offered a fresh twist on the material. Borat, however, is a highly original creation. If this character were to appear in a conventional movie, he would still be strange. At the same time, there's little doubt that his routines wouldn't be half as interesting if they didn't involve the general public.
Borat is, to put it nicely, an ignorant buffoon. He has no social manner, thinking it acceptable to talk in graphic detail about sex and bodily functions no matter what the occasion. He's also a first-class bigot, putting down Jews, blacks, and women. Of all of Borat's traits, his garden-variety anti-Semitism has gotten the most press, because Cohen is in fact Jewish, and it's fascinating the way he gets people to accept his character and then to say things they wouldn't normally say to a reporter. In one of the more memorable bits from his show, Borat went into a redneck bar in Arizona and sang a song called "Throw the Jew Down the Well." How did the customers react? Why, by the third verse they were all clapping and whooping and singing along, making horn symbols with their hands on their foreheads. Is this comedy or investigative journalism?
In the movie, Borat continues these sorts of shenanigans. Because the approach is so unique, even the familiar gags have a certain freshness. For example, we're all familiar with the cliché where a character eats a seemingly innocent food and then is told it's something gross. But I bet you've never seen a film where the star actually pulls the prank--for real--on an unsuspecting politician.
Looking back on the movie now, I realize that there are some principles of comedy at work. One is that if you create a disgusting, vulgar character, you shouldn't try to soften him at the end. That's a principle that many Hollywood movies neglect ("Bad Santa" comes to mind). Maybe it's because Cohen is British, not American, that he understands this principle. British comedy has long had a better grasp at how to handle unpleasant characters. Instead of half-apologizing for the material as American comedies tend to do, the British know how to take such material to its limits. One of Cohen's conceits is that his characters are static, never for a moment realizing their own idiocy. That's comedy.
Perhaps what makes the offensive material easier to stomach is that Borat never shows any malice or ill intent. The man behind the character may be cruel, but the character himself is cheerful, friendly, and completely oblivious to the havoc he causes. He has horrible attitudes, but only because he doesn't know any better. The movie's purpose in springing this character on the public is to unmask the veneer of sophistication that so many Americans wear, to reveal the little prejudices we try so hard to cover up.
There's a danger of something like this becoming a one-joke routine. "Borat" avoids that fate because the character is so multifaceted, finding so many creative ways to offend, shock, irritate, or just weird people out. And the movie spares no one. It isn't just an exposure of redneck bigotry. It also targets urbane, condescending liberals. One of the most hilariously revealing moments occurs when Borat sabotages an etiquette coach, who proceeds to shrug off his dirty, uncouth behavior as due to "cultural differences."
Underlying the comedy are themes that some viewers might miss. Take the way that Borat is anti-gay but doesn't recognize his own homosexual behavior. He seems to oppose the idea of things without having a clue about their reality. He doesn't even recognize a guy wearing a yarmulke as Jewish. Only after the man's wife identifies as Jewish does he go berserk. (And not in a mean way: Borat is scared for his life!)
Don't worry about the "plot," in which Borat travels across the country with the intent of marrying Pamela Anderson (who I'm sure was in on the joke). It's mostly just a string-line for the gags, but along the way it satirizes various movie conventions, and the manner in which it incorporates the real-life "stunts" into the mix is rather brilliant. Comedy will never be the same again.
That's the sort of question that crossed my mind when I watched "Borat." Even though Sacha Baron Cohen dresses up as a fictional character, he takes this character out into the real world and films the reactions of people who assume he is for real. Part of the humor comes from the character himself, but equally important is the way that innocent bystanders are taken in by his antics. Out of this footage and some staged material, he spins a fictional story about Borat, a Kazakhstani journalist filming a documentary while traveling across the United States.
At first, I had trouble formulating an opinion about the film, for the simple reason that it was so unlike anything I'd ever seen before that I had no point of comparison. Sure I laughed a lot, sometimes to the point of tears (the rodeo scene is tops for me). But usually when I'm watching a movie, I measure the experience by comparing it to other films. Here, my mind came up blank, because "Borat" is one of the few truly unique comedies I've seen. Not only is it one of the funniest movies in years, containing some of the most intriguing satire about racism since "All in the Family," it takes comedy to an entirely new plane.
I admit that I was slow to become a fan of Cohen's show. That's partly because his Ali G character was just a variant on something we've all seen many times before, even if the "Candid Camera" element offered a fresh twist on the material. Borat, however, is a highly original creation. If this character were to appear in a conventional movie, he would still be strange. At the same time, there's little doubt that his routines wouldn't be half as interesting if they didn't involve the general public.
Borat is, to put it nicely, an ignorant buffoon. He has no social manner, thinking it acceptable to talk in graphic detail about sex and bodily functions no matter what the occasion. He's also a first-class bigot, putting down Jews, blacks, and women. Of all of Borat's traits, his garden-variety anti-Semitism has gotten the most press, because Cohen is in fact Jewish, and it's fascinating the way he gets people to accept his character and then to say things they wouldn't normally say to a reporter. In one of the more memorable bits from his show, Borat went into a redneck bar in Arizona and sang a song called "Throw the Jew Down the Well." How did the customers react? Why, by the third verse they were all clapping and whooping and singing along, making horn symbols with their hands on their foreheads. Is this comedy or investigative journalism?
In the movie, Borat continues these sorts of shenanigans. Because the approach is so unique, even the familiar gags have a certain freshness. For example, we're all familiar with the cliché where a character eats a seemingly innocent food and then is told it's something gross. But I bet you've never seen a film where the star actually pulls the prank--for real--on an unsuspecting politician.
Looking back on the movie now, I realize that there are some principles of comedy at work. One is that if you create a disgusting, vulgar character, you shouldn't try to soften him at the end. That's a principle that many Hollywood movies neglect ("Bad Santa" comes to mind). Maybe it's because Cohen is British, not American, that he understands this principle. British comedy has long had a better grasp at how to handle unpleasant characters. Instead of half-apologizing for the material as American comedies tend to do, the British know how to take such material to its limits. One of Cohen's conceits is that his characters are static, never for a moment realizing their own idiocy. That's comedy.
Perhaps what makes the offensive material easier to stomach is that Borat never shows any malice or ill intent. The man behind the character may be cruel, but the character himself is cheerful, friendly, and completely oblivious to the havoc he causes. He has horrible attitudes, but only because he doesn't know any better. The movie's purpose in springing this character on the public is to unmask the veneer of sophistication that so many Americans wear, to reveal the little prejudices we try so hard to cover up.
There's a danger of something like this becoming a one-joke routine. "Borat" avoids that fate because the character is so multifaceted, finding so many creative ways to offend, shock, irritate, or just weird people out. And the movie spares no one. It isn't just an exposure of redneck bigotry. It also targets urbane, condescending liberals. One of the most hilariously revealing moments occurs when Borat sabotages an etiquette coach, who proceeds to shrug off his dirty, uncouth behavior as due to "cultural differences."
Underlying the comedy are themes that some viewers might miss. Take the way that Borat is anti-gay but doesn't recognize his own homosexual behavior. He seems to oppose the idea of things without having a clue about their reality. He doesn't even recognize a guy wearing a yarmulke as Jewish. Only after the man's wife identifies as Jewish does he go berserk. (And not in a mean way: Borat is scared for his life!)
Don't worry about the "plot," in which Borat travels across the country with the intent of marrying Pamela Anderson (who I'm sure was in on the joke). It's mostly just a string-line for the gags, but along the way it satirizes various movie conventions, and the manner in which it incorporates the real-life "stunts" into the mix is rather brilliant. Comedy will never be the same again.