Post by TheOogieBoogieMan on Jul 15, 2009 18:07:04 GMT -5
Every time I try to put into words exactly why I disliked Brüno, I always find myself coming back to Borat. "Brüno was way more scripted," I grumble into my keyboard. "And Borat was a more likable character. And Brüno lacks the focus of Borat, not to mention the acerbic insight on Western society." It makes me wonder if I'm at fault for expecting Brüno to be another Borat. Maybe that wasn't what Sasha Baron Cohen intended with his latest film. Maybe he just wanted to make a standard gross-out comedy, and wrapped it in a winning formula, lightly sprinkled with moments of spontaneous truth on top (is it obvious that I'm hungry right now?).
Then again, I shouldn't be making excuses for a big Hollywood film, especially if I didn't like it. And even if you take Brüno as a gross out comedy rather than a thinly veiled satire, it still doesn't work; it rarely made me laugh, and it hardly grossed me out.
I'm not a prude. Let's make that clear. At no point while watching Brüno was I ever offended, though, by God, the film tried to make me so. Granted, Borat didn't really offend me, either, but there was a restraint (that's right, Borat feels restrained compared to Brüno) in that movie that made the more shocking moments funny as well. You never actually saw Borat's brother or mother-in-law, you just heard the Kazakh goofily tell stories about them that would be awful, or at least bizarre, if they actually happened. In Brüno, nothing is left to the imagination; the Austrian reporter mentions his pygmy boyfriend, and then you get a montage of every single sex act they do together. This sort of shock tactic got tiring very quickly, like watching kids run around shouting "poo-poo, pee-pee!" or giggle at anatomy pictures in a science book. Being straightforward in the icky department isn't enough. Dress it up, put some lingerie on it, make it interesting!
I mentioned earlier that I liked Borat as a character more than Brüno; that's one of the main problems I had with the movie. For as prejudiced as Borat was, and for all the ridiculous things he said in his feature film, the guy knew when to shut up and let his subjects speak for themselves. In Brüno, Sasha Baron Cohen channels his inner Robin Williams and goes all out with gay stereotypes and embarrassingly manic pratfalls - in the first five minutes, Brüno gets himself tangled up in clothes backstage at a fashion show and spends a good minute stumbling around and falling on top of himself. And like Robin Williams, I felt obligated to laugh, as if I felt guilty that Cohen's clearly staged and choreographed mile-a-minute antics weren't doing a thing for me.
Brüno's insanity didn't just leave me inert; most of the people seen around him are rendered inactive by his scene-chewery. What made Borat a successful character was that people were eager to talk to him. Even when they were offended or repulsed, bless them, they gave the Kazakh the benefit of the doubt and tried their darnedest to muddle through the interview. Brüno gets no such sympathy from his subjects. When Cohen does his thang, nearly everyone not in on the act either quietly walks away or angrily walks away. They know there's no getting through to the border-line sociopathic Austrian. And there's nothing funny about that sort of defeatist attitude.
The best scenes in Borat were the ones where people showed their true colours, and likewise, the few times in Brüno that seem genuinely unscripted are the best. A sit-down with the parents of child models reveals just how desperate they are to make their babies famous, and a ditzy blonde suggests doing charity work for "Dafar," which is apparently somewhere in Iraq. Moments like these shone with potential, revealing that Brüno could've been a daring expose on America's idealization of fame and wealth, but SBC and co. are too in love with their own stupid characters and stupider story to let in those moments of sincerity.
Maybe more than anything else, the problem with Brüno is that the mockumentary-meets-Candid Camera style of filmmaking already feels like old hat. It felt like the fad was on its last legs in Religulous (which, like Borat and Brüno, was directed by Larry Charles), where I couldn't help but wonder whether the awkward silences in Bill Maher's interviews were genuine or achieved via editing, and I found myself less impressed by the MMCC style in Brüno, and unable to trust the movie's authenticity.
Some of the posters I've seen for Brüno sport the tagline "Borat was so 2006." I'm inclined to agree.
PS: I feel like I deserve some sort of prize for putting in umlauts where they were needed. Damn accents!
Then again, I shouldn't be making excuses for a big Hollywood film, especially if I didn't like it. And even if you take Brüno as a gross out comedy rather than a thinly veiled satire, it still doesn't work; it rarely made me laugh, and it hardly grossed me out.
I'm not a prude. Let's make that clear. At no point while watching Brüno was I ever offended, though, by God, the film tried to make me so. Granted, Borat didn't really offend me, either, but there was a restraint (that's right, Borat feels restrained compared to Brüno) in that movie that made the more shocking moments funny as well. You never actually saw Borat's brother or mother-in-law, you just heard the Kazakh goofily tell stories about them that would be awful, or at least bizarre, if they actually happened. In Brüno, nothing is left to the imagination; the Austrian reporter mentions his pygmy boyfriend, and then you get a montage of every single sex act they do together. This sort of shock tactic got tiring very quickly, like watching kids run around shouting "poo-poo, pee-pee!" or giggle at anatomy pictures in a science book. Being straightforward in the icky department isn't enough. Dress it up, put some lingerie on it, make it interesting!
I mentioned earlier that I liked Borat as a character more than Brüno; that's one of the main problems I had with the movie. For as prejudiced as Borat was, and for all the ridiculous things he said in his feature film, the guy knew when to shut up and let his subjects speak for themselves. In Brüno, Sasha Baron Cohen channels his inner Robin Williams and goes all out with gay stereotypes and embarrassingly manic pratfalls - in the first five minutes, Brüno gets himself tangled up in clothes backstage at a fashion show and spends a good minute stumbling around and falling on top of himself. And like Robin Williams, I felt obligated to laugh, as if I felt guilty that Cohen's clearly staged and choreographed mile-a-minute antics weren't doing a thing for me.
Brüno's insanity didn't just leave me inert; most of the people seen around him are rendered inactive by his scene-chewery. What made Borat a successful character was that people were eager to talk to him. Even when they were offended or repulsed, bless them, they gave the Kazakh the benefit of the doubt and tried their darnedest to muddle through the interview. Brüno gets no such sympathy from his subjects. When Cohen does his thang, nearly everyone not in on the act either quietly walks away or angrily walks away. They know there's no getting through to the border-line sociopathic Austrian. And there's nothing funny about that sort of defeatist attitude.
The best scenes in Borat were the ones where people showed their true colours, and likewise, the few times in Brüno that seem genuinely unscripted are the best. A sit-down with the parents of child models reveals just how desperate they are to make their babies famous, and a ditzy blonde suggests doing charity work for "Dafar," which is apparently somewhere in Iraq. Moments like these shone with potential, revealing that Brüno could've been a daring expose on America's idealization of fame and wealth, but SBC and co. are too in love with their own stupid characters and stupider story to let in those moments of sincerity.
Maybe more than anything else, the problem with Brüno is that the mockumentary-meets-Candid Camera style of filmmaking already feels like old hat. It felt like the fad was on its last legs in Religulous (which, like Borat and Brüno, was directed by Larry Charles), where I couldn't help but wonder whether the awkward silences in Bill Maher's interviews were genuine or achieved via editing, and I found myself less impressed by the MMCC style in Brüno, and unable to trust the movie's authenticity.
Some of the posters I've seen for Brüno sport the tagline "Borat was so 2006." I'm inclined to agree.
PS: I feel like I deserve some sort of prize for putting in umlauts where they were needed. Damn accents!
