One can’t help discuss Brüno, the latest from British comedian and provocateur Sacha Baron Cohen, without first coming to terms with the style of Cohen’s comedy. What Cohen excels at is performance, much in the way of vaudeville than, say, the comedy of embarrassment and understatement more common with Larry David and Ricky Gervais—although they share the same cinema verite aesthetic director Larry Charles employs in Brüno. With Brüno and its much funnier sibling, Borat, Cohen thankfully strays from the standard frat boy humor and overall jokiness that is common of late summer comedies, as is the case with any one of Apatow’s productions. Regardless of what you may think of Cohen’s latest character—a flamboyant, gay Austrian fashion journalist hell-bent on fame—you have to admire Cohen’s ferocious approach to comedy, which mixes a little bit improvisation, exhibitionism, satire, and equal parts sadomasochism, all with breathtaking efficiency, wit, and yes, even insight.
At first, when the large Austrian Brüno makes his appearance on screen, one can’t help but feel put off. Not because of the performance but because of the character’s inherent attitude, which is aggressive and loud. All traces of the lovable, idiot Borat are wiped clean. Once the shock of Brüno’s flamboyant and slightly annoying personality is taken as a given, it’s amazing how quickly Brüno changes from simply being Cohen’s latest character to that of a real person, with no pretense of being played by an actor. Cohen’s acting is just as enthralling, and he deserves more praise for his convincing, brave performance. How anyone can ad-lib and improvise dialogue while being yelled at by military sergeants is beyond me. What’s even more fascinating is how Cohen manages to keep a straight face, whether in the presence of the military or a group of uncomfortable, hillbilly hunters packing shotguns.
And yet despite all of this, Brüno only gets a mild recommendation because the film does not achieve the level of sophistication and insight that is on par with what Borat accomplished three years earlier. With the character of Borat, a lovable but naive foreigner, Cohen was able to tap into the fear of the other, an especially apt representation for Americans living in the midst of George W. Bush’s military adventurism against people who at the very least superficially resembled the titular character. Borat was able to bring out some of the worst (and funniest) reactions from people by mixing antagonism with a foreigner’s ignorance. With Brüno, the joke’s usually on Brüno the character and not necessarily his “victims.” It’s hard not to feel sympathy for the hunter who tries to keep a naked Brüno out of his tent. Or worse, the disastrous encounter with Ron Paul after Brüno propositions him for sex in a hotel room. The hidden camera quality of that scene adds to the viewer’s discomfort, but instead of laughing at Ron Paul’s justified reaction, I couldn’t help but think of the inevitability of the entire scene. The film has its fair share of laughs, how can it not with a character this flamboyant, but ultimately, Brüno is a far cry from Borat and instead becomes a little too familiar and predictable.
Richard Saad
© Cinephile Magazine, 2009