Borat: Obnoxiously Visceral, Mildly Satirical

This review was published originally in cinekklesia on May 28, 2007.

So I finally found out what all the fuss was about. This weekend, I watched Larry Charles' Borat (2006), the wild, guerrilla-style production starring Sacha Baron Cohen in the title role. (For purists, I should note the movie's full title — Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan.) Overall, it matches the hype from both critics and consumers: Borat is a crude, anarchic romp through the American landscape. Cohen pulls no punches, pushing the proverbial envelope every chance he gets. The broader question, of course, is whether Borat succeeds in its satirical intent as much as it does in its toilet humor.

For those who are unaware, Borat is a "Kazakhstani reporter" who travels to the United States in order to film a "documentary." Sacha Baron Cohen and his crew interact with "real-life" Americans and set up interviews under a journalistic premise — i.e., by all accounts, none of the Americans know that they are victims of a prank akin to (though more extreme than) the old-school Candid Camera or MTV's Punk'd. The prank's success depends almost entirely on Cohen's portrayal of Borat as ignorant, uncouth, vulgar, sexist, racist, etc. He is so obnoxious that audience members are left wondering how his victims will react: will they "play nice" and try to smooth over Borat's rough edges, or will they push back and resist what he represents?

Of course, a more basic question is this: Is Borat funny? Answer: Yes, in an almost totally visceral, pre-pubescent fashion. I suppose the fact that I laughed so hard at this movie demonstrates that despite my attempts to give others the opposite impression, I simply am an uncultured boor with low-brow tastes. Do you remember laughing at toilet humor when you were in elementary or middle school? Do you feel embarrassed when recalling how you found such things funny? Then don't watch Borat, for this movie brings to the surface those primordial urges that you have spent your entire adult life suppressing.

As satire, Borat is less successful. Many of the Americans are portrayed (or portray themselves, depending on your preference) as nationalistic, militaristic, racist, and/or money-grubbing. When Borat says something "politically incorrect," most of the film's subjects (victims?) either agree with it (thus, demonstrating America's "dark side") or try to laugh it off (in part, because they are in the process of offering a good or service to him — the customer is always right, after all!). While Borat certainly serves a satirical function, its message is hackneyed. A large percentage of the global population already perceives the United States as a bastion of nationalism, militarism, racism, and greed. This perception is nothing new, and Borat simply retreads old ground. (Then again, as a friend of mine has suggested, perhaps satire does not have the function of conversion but rather, of preaching to the choir. Satire simply raises the same old critiques for those who want to listen.)

Apart from its satire, Borat does raise an interesting question about moral and ideological integrity. Near the beginning of the film, three members of a feminist organization do push back against Cohen's boorish character. When Borat says that a Kazakhstani scientist has "discovered" that women have smaller brains than men (and thus, are inferior), the women refuse to play along and end up cutting short the interview. Because they are intentionally ideological, having formed a conscious perspective of the world as it is and as it should be, the women were able to respond when challenged — even by (or perhaps especially by) someone as obnoxious as Borat. Americans in general, however, do not spend time developing ideologically coherent perspectives and thus, have no means by which to respond to outlandish statements.

By far the most troubling aspect of Borat is its "portrayal" of Kazakhstan. If Borat is to serve as a representative of "his people," then we are to believe that Kazakhstan is a backward, ignorant, and vulgar place. Unfortunately, since the Central Asian republics that were part of the former Soviet Union remain distant and exotic lands to the vast majority of Americans, then any portrayal—regardless of how outlandish and satirical—becomes implicitly true. If one has never been to Kazakhstan, met a Kazakhstani, or even seen a news story about the country, then how can one make a comparison between satire and "real life"? When we watch a satire about people we know, we at least have some context by which to delineate hyperbole from reality. As noted elsewhere, by satirizing people from a relatively poor, remote region of the world, Sacha Baron Cohen unfairly picks on those who have few resources by which to push back.

Thus, I ultimately cannot recommend Borat. I suppose that if you really wanted to reconnect with your pre-pubescent side, or if you were completely ignorant of any and all negative stereotypes about Americans, then this would be the movie for you. However, Borat's satire ultimately falls flat, and Sacha Baron Cohen's ridiculing of Central Asians is simply unfair and distasteful, despite Miss Kazakhstan's diplomatic overtures to the contrary.