A Ghost of the Thing

Let’s get it out of the way immediately - Bruno is everything you’ve heard - it’s offensive, gross, rude, homophobic, racist, xenophobic and yes, even at times, funny. The big question I really have is, “What’s the point?” All humor, to a certain extent, has a point of view of sorts. There’s usually a reason for portraying a situation or character. Whether it is for purposes of parody or not, there is an end of sorts. I’m afraid that Sacha Baron Cohen may have gone to the well once too often.
We all knew Borat. Borat was a friend of ours. Bruno, you’re no Borat. While pushing the PC envelope in new and imaginative ways, as well as the MPAA’s R rating -- especially so far as the male member is concerned -- Bruno is only intermittently funny.
Bruno, for those really out of step with modern culture, is Cohen’s gay Austrian fashion expert with his own TV show, Funkyzeit. Early in the movie, Bruno makes such a disastrous spectacle of himself at a designer’s show during Milan Fashion Week, he is schwarz-listed. He abruptly decides to go to Los Angeles, accompanied by his lovelorn assistant, Lutz (Gustaf Hammarsten), to become a celebrity. One’s heart sinks right there. The target of Hollywood and vacuous celebrityhood has so many arrows in its bulls-eye, there is nothing left to hit.
Here, he also sort of zeroes in on homophobia. But instead of making the point that the straight world, full of zealots such as the gay converters, are the ridiculous ones, his Bruno character is so outrageous and caricaturish that he does the opposite. GLAAD has come out against Bruno and I have to admit that I agree. Before seeing Bruno, I thought those who objected to the depiction of a flaming homosexual should lighten up and appreciate the joke. I walked away from Bruno feeling that, instead of making a statement for equality and non-discrimination, this movie perpetuates every stereotype, giving homophobes even more ammunition. If only there were a way to guarantee that only those who are enlightened are allowed to buy a ticket to Bruno!
Bruno’s adopted African baby paraded before a black audience is not funny. It’s embarrassing, as is any joke that bombs; yet the comic keeps repeating the joke. This is one of several instances where an audience might experience both exasperation and tedium with the comic’s relentless act of running a joke into the ground. Bruno’s attempt to go hetero, assisted by two Christian ministers who specialize in such conversions, yields better results. Even here, though, Bill Maher beat him to the punch with Religulous.
Borat was, despite his cheerful bigotry, somehow a lovable character. His questions sprang from the sweet innocence of a third-world bumpkin wallowing in isolated ignorance. With Bruno, you mostly feel annoyed. A gay Austrian fashionista would be no ignorant rube. He would be sophisticated, savvy and certainly aware of prejudices against gays. Would he really prance semi-naked through Middle Eastern holy sites?
The calculations behind Cohen’s ambushes of celebrities are often mean-spirited, so you end up sympathizing with them. I actually started to be more on the side of the bigots and idiots than on Bruno’s. The character’s gayness reads false and turns out also to be just obnoxious. Cohen needs to spend more time in certain gay bars if he wants to learn how to do “flamboyant” and “fabulous.” His version is a ghost of the real thing.

September, 2009