The funniest part of Brüno came not from what was happening on the screen, but from the reaction of the audience watching it. Remember the groan of displeasure when Borat’s moustache was made to taste like his assistant’s testes? Brüno, at least to the people in the same theater I was in, played like an 81-minute version of that scene, prompting one angry attendee to relate to his somewhat stunned girlfriend that Brüno was “the gayest shit I’ve ever seen.” Oh, to live in Ohio.
Brüno, if you know anything about Sacha Baron Cohen, is an extremely exaggerated caricature of gay culture; in effect, the character is a funhouse mirror, a skewed collection of stereotypes tends to give a skewed reflection of the person or people placed in front of Brüno. I sincerely doubt that a group of people would join in a rousing round of “Throw the Jew Down the Well” without prompting from a naive, sweet looking foreigner, much like I doubt Congressman Ron Paul would call somebody a queer in full view of a recording video camera, had not said queer tried to seduce him in a hotel room. It is important that a movie like this exists, but it’s clear that Cohen, in his quest to offend everybody in his field of vision, isn’t exactly playing fair.
That’s not to say that he ever
did play fair. A guerilla comedian, Cohen has relied on ambushing his subjects since the inception of
Da Ali G Show, where both Brüno and Borat originated. There, one of his characters would pose as a crewmember of some sort while a producer went through all of the prerequisite contracts and waivers. Just before cameras would roll, Ali G, Brüno, or Borat would sit down before their bewildered subject, and the segment would be off to the races. There are several clips of real, famous, professional public figures getting so upset with Cohen’s characters that they call off the interview. There are several more, particularly in the case of Brüno, where Cohen seems to be in no small amount of danger.
Yes, it takes balls of steel to make a movie like
Brüno, but it takes something else entirely to make a good film from the premise, which may actually be Cohen's weakest, but it took balls to make
Freddy Got Fingered, too, and I don't see a whole lot of Tom Green apologists out there begging for an eventual 10th Anniversary Edition. So, the big question: Does
Brüno work?
If you went into the theater expecting very basic jabs at the nature of celebrity worship, celebrity ego, and homophobia in the United States of America, then yeah, I suppose it does.
Brüno, the host of a TV show on Austria Gay TV, is exiled from his homeland when he is blacklisted by the powerful Austrian fashion industry for ruining a show by wearing a suit made entirely out of velcro, which sticks to everything and results in his stumbling out onto the catwalk wearing every piece of clothing yet to be modeled that evening. His assistant and husband leave him shortly thereafter, right before he chooses to go to America to become a world famous celebrity. He is accompanied by Lutz (Gustaf Hammarsten), his previously unnoticed intern.
From there, Brüno tries every conceivable thing to do in his quest to become a celebrity, each one failing miserably. He interviews Paula Abdul for the pilot of a talk show, tries to star in a sex video with Ron Paul, adopts a black baby, attempts to become straight in a number of ways, and launches his own Mixed Martial Arts promotion in the heart of the Deep South, where he finds his true love.
Only one of those scenes really goes for the gut: The MMA sequence that bravely ends the film. I laughed through a good part of the first act of the movie (until I realized I was the only person laughing), but it wasn't because of any profound truths Cohen was seeking to expose. When I stopped laughing, I was left to wonder why he didn't go the extra mile. Instead of asking Paula Abdul what she thought of his furniture (the Mexicans who, minutes before, had been working on his lawn), he cuts to a scene where he runs down the Hollywood A-list, looking for somebody who hasn't blacklisted him. "Bradolf Pittler?" he asks Lutz, who shakes his head solemnly. Brad Pitt wouldn't have sat down on the Mexican man, but Paula Abdul
did! What does that say about her? The movie doesn't say.
Similarly, when Brüno visits reverends who give him advise on how to become straight, there is no mention of the sort of camps that seek to "cure" gays, and his stint in the Alabama National Guard doesn't even bring up Don't Ask, Don't Tell. And the scene where Brüno and Lutz stumble through a God Hates Fags protest in full bondage gear serves as a set-up for little more than the two splitting up.
Maybe I'm being a bit harsh. Really, I liked the movie, but I couldn't help but feel that Cohen was revisiting familiar ground. Saying that the South is homophobic is really not that far of a stretch from
Borat's subject matter, but here it feels more forced, more scripted, and yet somehow less coherent. I highly doubt that the interview with LaToya Jackson, cut due to Michael's death, would have had something to say beyond that LaToya will do anything for publicity; a dead horse topic if ever there was one. What I'd rather know is how the gay community reacts to Brüno. Were there no pride rallies or gay bars he could stumble across? I understand that, pop culturally speaking, the gay community is pretty plugged in, but I get the feeling that Cohen didn't want to try anything
too risky, which, in a movie that has apparently required a prepared speech be delivered to theatergoers brave enough to buy a ticket about the risque content the theater was forced to exhibit, is disappointing. Maybe people like the guy I mention in my first paragraph couldn't handle something beyond level one, but I know I can.
I look forward to this movie's eventual release on DVD. My hope is that in making a movie that could make it past the tyrannical, anti-sex, anti-gay MPAA, Cohen and director Larry Charles left the movie's heart in an uncut version that will be seen by the people who saw the occasional moments of genius and were left wanting more.
Far Fucking Out
