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Borat and his producer Ken Davitian:
Equal-opportunity offensiveness Unbridled `Borat' might have you
laughing and cringing at the same time
Friday, November 3, 2006 By James Sanford
[email protected] 388-8553
Some fans have said that Sacha Baron Cohen's Borat character -- an
overeager, uncouth TV personality from Kazakhstan who originally
surfaced on Cohen's series "Da Ali G Show" -- was a takeoff on
Internet semi-star Mahir Cagri, the Turkish man whose fractured
English and child-like messages made his Web page a major attraction
in 1999. But Cohen's "Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make
Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan" seems to draw inspiration from
another, much older source: "Candid Camera," the series created by
Allen Funt more than 50 years ago.
Most of "Borat" features apparently improvised footage in which Borat
mingles with "average Americans" during a cross-country journey to find
"Baywatch" and "Stacked" star Pamela Anderson (or, as Borat calls her,
"Pommulla Undrazan"). There's not much evidence to suggest the people
Borat encounters were aware they were being set up. But were they ever.
Whether it's a New York hotel employee who's dismayed to find Borat
unpacking his suitcase in an elevator car (Borat insists he thought
it must be his room), or the members of the Magnolia Mansion Dining
Society being startled by Borat's inappropriate "date" for the evening,
the reactions don't look rehearsed. Nor is there any indication that
the Manhattan subway riders had been clued in about what Borat brought
aboard the train, or that the ultra-conservative cowboys and cowgirls
at a rodeo knew what to expect when Borat expressed Kazakhstan's
support for America's "War of Terror."
The biggest laughs (and many of the most uncomfortable moments) in
the film stem from watching ordinary people react to Borat's curious
customs and clumsy attempts to merge into the American mainstream.
Cohen and director Larry Charles spare no one -- even children, in
a memorably mean episode involving an ice cream truck -- although
they seem to take particular delight in skewering Southerners,
who are generally portrayed in the film as being small-minded,
Bible-clutching, homophobic racists with a dread of anything that's
not wrapped in a Confederate flag. "Shave that dadgum mustache off
(and) you'll be less conspicuous," a rodeo manager advises Borat.
"You'll look like an Italian!"
"Borat" is a great litmus test for determining exactly how far a joke
can go before you stop laughing. In many of the scenes Cohen has set
up, the humor goes so far out on the edge it's too ridiculous to be
truly insulting; other segments, such as a disastrous visit to an
antique shop, will make many viewers uneasy because they're likely
to identify with the victims of Borat's shenanigans.
Still, part of the movie's appeal is its willingness to push the
envelope to the breaking point, in order to search for that elusive
line between the outrageously funny and the exasperating. In the eyes
of Cohen and David, if you take offense, the joke's on you.
Although "Borat" has already drawn criticism from some critics who were
shocked by its dialogue and attitudes, the movie isn't about promoting
ignorance and intolerance but about exposing it through humor. The
crude content and sometimes alarming talk serve a purpose, although
it takes a while to realize exactly what the filmmakers are doing.
"Borat" is reminiscent of the segments Canadian comedian Rick Mercer
created on the CBC show "This Hour Has 22 Minutes," in which Mercer
interviewed Americans about supposed "news" from Canada.
Mercer would throw out absurd ideas, telling people that the leader
of Canada had announced he was moving into a gigantic igloo or that
Canada had just recently decided to allow women to vote, then present
the reactions. Like much of "Borat," the results were often hilarious
and sort of painful to witness as well.
The movie wouldn't work if Cohen ever allowed himself to smirk at
his victims or back away from the strange situations in which Borat
inevitably finds himself. To his credit, Cohen never lets his mask
slip, even when Borat is being roughed up by security guards or,
in one of the movie's most astonishing sequences, hitching a ride
with a trio of plastered fraternity brothers who manage to live up to
(or down to, as the case may be) every ugly cliche about frat life. As
for the wrestling scene between Borat and his producer (Ken Davitian,
who also deserves points for comic bravado), let's just say you've
never seen anything quite like it before and you may find yourself
wishing you'd continued living in blissful ignorance.
This may not be the kind of performance that gets Cohen Oscar
recognition, but it's definitely an impressive piece of acting -- and
"Borat" is a movie that will certainly make some sort of an impression
on everyone who sees it.
©2006 Kalamazoo © 2006 Michigan Live.
--Boundary_(ID_6zfo8TptNAhH1+sav5wUUA)--
Equal-opportunity offensiveness Unbridled `Borat' might have you
laughing and cringing at the same time
Friday, November 3, 2006 By James Sanford
[email protected] 388-8553
Some fans have said that Sacha Baron Cohen's Borat character -- an
overeager, uncouth TV personality from Kazakhstan who originally
surfaced on Cohen's series "Da Ali G Show" -- was a takeoff on
Internet semi-star Mahir Cagri, the Turkish man whose fractured
English and child-like messages made his Web page a major attraction
in 1999. But Cohen's "Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make
Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan" seems to draw inspiration from
another, much older source: "Candid Camera," the series created by
Allen Funt more than 50 years ago.
Most of "Borat" features apparently improvised footage in which Borat
mingles with "average Americans" during a cross-country journey to find
"Baywatch" and "Stacked" star Pamela Anderson (or, as Borat calls her,
"Pommulla Undrazan"). There's not much evidence to suggest the people
Borat encounters were aware they were being set up. But were they ever.
Whether it's a New York hotel employee who's dismayed to find Borat
unpacking his suitcase in an elevator car (Borat insists he thought
it must be his room), or the members of the Magnolia Mansion Dining
Society being startled by Borat's inappropriate "date" for the evening,
the reactions don't look rehearsed. Nor is there any indication that
the Manhattan subway riders had been clued in about what Borat brought
aboard the train, or that the ultra-conservative cowboys and cowgirls
at a rodeo knew what to expect when Borat expressed Kazakhstan's
support for America's "War of Terror."
The biggest laughs (and many of the most uncomfortable moments) in
the film stem from watching ordinary people react to Borat's curious
customs and clumsy attempts to merge into the American mainstream.
Cohen and director Larry Charles spare no one -- even children, in
a memorably mean episode involving an ice cream truck -- although
they seem to take particular delight in skewering Southerners,
who are generally portrayed in the film as being small-minded,
Bible-clutching, homophobic racists with a dread of anything that's
not wrapped in a Confederate flag. "Shave that dadgum mustache off
(and) you'll be less conspicuous," a rodeo manager advises Borat.
"You'll look like an Italian!"
"Borat" is a great litmus test for determining exactly how far a joke
can go before you stop laughing. In many of the scenes Cohen has set
up, the humor goes so far out on the edge it's too ridiculous to be
truly insulting; other segments, such as a disastrous visit to an
antique shop, will make many viewers uneasy because they're likely
to identify with the victims of Borat's shenanigans.
Still, part of the movie's appeal is its willingness to push the
envelope to the breaking point, in order to search for that elusive
line between the outrageously funny and the exasperating. In the eyes
of Cohen and David, if you take offense, the joke's on you.
Although "Borat" has already drawn criticism from some critics who were
shocked by its dialogue and attitudes, the movie isn't about promoting
ignorance and intolerance but about exposing it through humor. The
crude content and sometimes alarming talk serve a purpose, although
it takes a while to realize exactly what the filmmakers are doing.
"Borat" is reminiscent of the segments Canadian comedian Rick Mercer
created on the CBC show "This Hour Has 22 Minutes," in which Mercer
interviewed Americans about supposed "news" from Canada.
Mercer would throw out absurd ideas, telling people that the leader
of Canada had announced he was moving into a gigantic igloo or that
Canada had just recently decided to allow women to vote, then present
the reactions. Like much of "Borat," the results were often hilarious
and sort of painful to witness as well.
The movie wouldn't work if Cohen ever allowed himself to smirk at
his victims or back away from the strange situations in which Borat
inevitably finds himself. To his credit, Cohen never lets his mask
slip, even when Borat is being roughed up by security guards or,
in one of the movie's most astonishing sequences, hitching a ride
with a trio of plastered fraternity brothers who manage to live up to
(or down to, as the case may be) every ugly cliche about frat life. As
for the wrestling scene between Borat and his producer (Ken Davitian,
who also deserves points for comic bravado), let's just say you've
never seen anything quite like it before and you may find yourself
wishing you'd continued living in blissful ignorance.
This may not be the kind of performance that gets Cohen Oscar
recognition, but it's definitely an impressive piece of acting -- and
"Borat" is a movie that will certainly make some sort of an impression
on everyone who sees it.
©2006 Kalamazoo © 2006 Michigan Live.
--Boundary_(ID_6zfo8TptNAhH1+sav5wUUA)--