This browser is supported only in Windows 10 and above.


Gay Panic

Gay Panic (photo)

Posted by on

Sacha Baron Cohen’s improvisational prank film “Brüno” is a conceptual mess that’s satisfying as a lowball, turn-your-brain-off snot comedy, but deeply problematic as social commentary. It’s this last aspect, unfortunately, that made 2006’s “Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan” (and the character’s original TV incarnation) an object of debate. Did Borat’s interactions with prototypical dumb-ass Americans, and his stoking of anti-Semitic tendencies, critique the Arab world’s cultural prejudice and expose the country’s latent prejudice and paranoia, or merely invite smug liberal laughter and an unearned sense of cultural superiority? Was Borat a Rorschach test, or an admittedly mesmerizing comedian’s clever way of indulging stereotypes while pretending to challenge them? And in total, was the movie a stinging critique of a fat, happy nation engaged in two distant wars against countries filled with Borat-types, or just a put-on faking relevance, the movie equivalent of a rubber chicken wrapped in a New York Times Op-Ed section?

The answer to each question was “Both.” Cohen clearly works from the gut — improvisational comics can’t work any other way; his methods expose true and disturbing American tendencies while also confirming his own lack of rigor and inclination to pander — qualities that are quite commonplace among entertainers who (understandably, this being showbiz) are looking for laughs first, insight second. But that’s not to say that “Borat” and Cohen’s originating series, “Da Al G Show,” didn’t have truly audacious moments. My friend Bart Weiss commented that the sequence where Borat leads a sing-along of “Throw the Jew Down the Well’ showcased the country’s latent potential for anti-Semitic thuggishness to terrifying effect; the scene also suggested that while we tend to consider ourselves culturally superior to Arab states that build a fair part of their national character around the image of driving the Jews into the sea, it wouldn’t be terribly difficult to light a similarly hateful fuse here.

There are a few similarly unsettling moments in “Brüno,” Cohen’s big-screen reimagining of another one of his sketch characters, a flamboyantly gay and proudly stupid Austrian who will do or say whatever it takes to be famous. More so than “Borat,” which treated the title character’s context-free lust for fame and material/physical satisfaction as just one aspect of his character, “Brüno” is all hedonistic-narcissistic impulse, all the time. He’s almost literally a walking hard-on — a guy who invariably stirs every conversation around to sex or the possibility of sex, and can’t look at another man’s ass, any man’s ass, without feeling Little Brüno stir to life. Like “Borat,” “Brüno” is less a coherent feature film than a succession of bits glued together by a put-on “inspirational” narrative about the title character’s desire to find success and happiness. (An early sequence finds Brüno arriving at a fashion show dressed in all all-Velcro suit, which of course leads to a series of destructive comic set-pieces reminiscent of Peter Sellers’ flailings as Inspector Clouseau, and causes Brüno to be momentarily vilified by the industry whose rituals he disrupted. “For the second time in a century, the world had turned on Austria’s most famous man because he was brave enough to try something new,” he intones in a voiceover.)

07082009_Bruno2.jpgBrüno’s increasingly desperate get-famous-quick gambits include getting a Hollywood agent and trying to sell an “A-list” interview show to CBS (the pilot includes gratuitous, bobbling, flopping close-ups of Little Brüno and a brief image of Brüno accosting Harrison Ford on the street and being told to go fuck himself); adopting a black African toddler (which he brings onto “The Richard Bey Show,” where he proceeds to bait the crowd’s predominantly African-American, culturally conservative audience); and heading to the Middle East to broker a peace agreement between Muslims and Jews (he has a song prepared, and he isn’t afraid to sing it). At one point, he grows so frustrated that he decides the only thing standing between himself and fame is his gayness, and enrolls in a homosexuality “curing” clinic in Alabama, where he spends much of his time trying to seduce his counselor.

The casual postmodern qualities of Cohen’s comedy (including the lingering-in-the-background question of which aspects of the comedy are “documentary” and which are scripted) tend to obscure the fact that whether we’re watching his TV sketches or a big-screen blow-up of same, what we’re seeing isn’t terribly different from an early Steve Martin movie or another, similar entry in the picaresque, moron-makes-good subgenre.

There is a point — something along the lines of, “In the modern age, material success, preferably with fame attached, is the most desirable achievement — and we increasingly don’t care how we get it.” Cohen and his director, Larry Charles, spell this out brilliantly about halfway through the movie, when Brüno decides to feature his adopted boy in a Annie Leibovitz-style, glam-controversial fashion spread that would hang the child on a cross and surround him with other kids dressed like Roman centurions. Brüno’s deadpan interview questions to stage moms and dads — asking if they’re okay with showcasing their kids in grotesque and tasteless photo spreads, subjecting them to extremes of heat and cold, putting them in cars without car seats or seat belts, letting them operate heavy machinery and the like, and always being told that it’s fine with them as long as the kid gets the job — hit the rhetorical nail on the head so deftly that the movie has nowhere to go after that.

But it’s a feature, so of course it has to keep going — and that means you have plenty of time to think about the many ways in which Cohen and Charles manage to have their red velvet cake and eat it, too — particularly how they make a big show of teasing America’s ingrained homophobia while simultaneously indulging the panicked straight-man stereotype of gays as lewd, mincing, leather-and-chain-and-assless-chaps-wearing Dionysian fairies who have only one thing on their minds, and that one would be wise not to turn one’s back on. “Borat” was similarly disingenuous and cynical, but because the character had more (admittedly flat) dimensions, and because the film was more scattershot in its choice of targets, it felt somewhat fuller, and less repetitive and essentially cheap. The movie’s final sequence, which finds Bruno and his assistant, Lutz (Gustaf Hammarsten), staging a man-on-man tryst in the ring at an Arkansas Ultimate Fighting Competition, is one of the most unjustifiably self-satisfied set-pieces in shock comedy history. It points up the fact that for all of the film’s subtextual tsk-tsking about (mostly red-state) gay panic, the title character is so obnoxious and often hideous that any reasonable person would be justified in ostracizing him.

Watch More

The Best Of The Last

Portlandia Goes Out With A Bang

Posted by on

The end is near. In mere days Portlandia wraps up its final season, and oh what a season it’s been. Lucky for you, you can watch the entire season right now right here and on the IFC app, including this free episode courtesy of Subaru.

But now, let’s take a moment to look back at some of the new classics Fred and Carrie have so thoughtfully bestowed upon us. (We’ll be looking back through tear-blurred eyes, but you do you.)

Couples Dinner

It’s not that being single sucks, it’s that you suck if you’re single.

Cancel it!

A sketch for anyone who has cancelled more appointments than they’ve kept. Which is everyone.

Forgotten America

This one’s a “Serial” killer…everything both right and wrong about true crime podcasts.

Wedding Planners

The only bad wedding is a boring wedding.

Disaster Hut

It’s only the end of the world if your doomsday kit doesn’t include rosé.

Catch up on Portlandia’s final episodes on demand and at

Watch More

Your Portlandia Personality Test

The New Portlandia Webseries Is Going Your Way

Posted by on

Carrie and Fred understand that although we have so much in common, we’re each so beautifully unique and different. To help us navigate those differences, Portlandia has found an easy and honest way to embrace our special selves in the form of a progressive new traffic system: a specific lane for every kind of driver. It’s all in honor of the show’s 8th and final season, and it’s all presented by Subaru.

Ready to find out who you really are? Match your personality to a lane and hop on the expressway to self-understanding.

Lane 10: Trucks Piled With Junk

Your junk is falling out of your trunk. Shake a tail light, people — this lane is for you.

Lane 33: Twins

You’re like a Gemini, but waaaay more pedestrian. Maybe you and a friend just wear the same outfits a lot. Who cares, it’s just twinning enough to make you feel special.

Lane 27: Broken Windows

Bad luck follows you around and everyone knows it. Your proverbial seat is always damp from proverbial rain. Is this the universe telling you to swallow your pride? Yes.

Lane 69: Filthy Cars

You’re all about convenience. Getting your car washed while you drive is a no-brainer.

Lane 43: Newly Divorced Singles

It’s been a while since you’ve driven alone, and you don’t know the rules of the road anymore. What’s too fast? What’s too slow? Are you sending the right signals? Don’t worry, the breakdown lane is nearby if you need it.

Still can’t find a lane to match your personality? Check out all the videos here. And see the final season of Portlandia this spring on IFC.

Watch More

Last-Minute Holiday Gift Guide

Hits from the '80s are on repeat all Christmas Eve and Day on IFC.

Posted by on
GIFs via Giphy, Photos via The Everett Collection

Watch More