Movie Review: Bruno

Sacha Baron Cohen finds himself slammed hard against the walls of heightened Hollywood expectations and diminishing artistic returns.

As the mock hip-hop television host in “Da Ali G Show,” the British comedian's first alter ego to garner broad attention, he deftly meshed reality-TV voyeurism, performance-art unpredictability and pointed cultural criticism into a cult hit. That mushroomed into the widespread popularity of his second personality, the crazy Kazakh known as Borat, through which Cohen cranked up the calculated outrage in an often explosively funny pseudo-documentary about life in the U.S. through the eyes of a foreigner.

Now comes “Brüno,” an outlet for Cohen's character as a gay Austrian fashion reporter who finds himself in America after his European career goes terribly wrong. Although there are some big-laugh moments, Cohen may have dipped into the same stylistic well once too often. When combined with the shock-for-shock's-sake attempt to push boundaries of tastelessness beyond “Borat,” the regional chauvinism (what does Cohen have against Southerners, anyway?) and the sense that “Brüno” is less improvisational and much more staged/scripted, the film doesn't reach the levels of hilarity of its predecessors.

“Brüno” revolves around attempts by our vapid yet intrepid reporter, and his faithful assistant Lutz (Gustaf Hammarsten) to become popular Stateside after he's blackballed on the other side of the Atlantic. He tries to negotiate Middle East peace, resulting in the film's most original moments, all shot in Israel and Lebanon. It's here that Cohen's ability to hurl himself into dangerous situations, like a roadside bomb under the wheel of social convention, is at its most inspired.

Failing to bring Israelis and Palestinians together, he imitates Madonna and Angelina Jolie by adopting an African baby (which leads to the much-hyped confrontation with a largely African American talk show crowd), vainly tries to sleep with a celebrity (a flabbergasted and disgusted Ron Paul) and attempts to go straight (which culminates in a near-riot at an ultimate-fighting match).

Beyond celebrity, Brüno has one goal in life: to make those around him so uncomfortable with his flamboyant homosexuality that they become violent. Cohen's point may be that everyone's homophobic beneath the surface.

But it's a joke that wears thin quickly and, in this universe, there must be no homophobes north of the Mason-Dixon Line. As in “Borat,” what will probably be some of the most talked-about scenes in “Brüno” – the Alabama hunters, the Alabama swingers club, the Texas TV show and the Arkansas ultimate-fighting contest – pander to the predictable stereotype of Southerners as ill-educated, ignorant bigots. Such condescension takes some of the edge off even the most humorous scenes and some of them, such as Brüno trying to join the Army at Alabama's Fort McClellan, spark genuine laughs.

At heart, neither Brüno nor Lutz are as likable as their “Borat” counterparts (they even do their own, more sexualized version of “Borat's” wrestling scene, but it's not as surprising or funny). And, unlike Ali G., who would just as often prick the balloons of airhead celebrities and windbag politicians, Brüno is not as entertainingly subversive.

But by the time credits roll and Brüno is in an all-star recording session with Bono, Sting, Elton John, Slash, Snoop Dogg and Chris Martin, he has attained the fame he desperately craves. Now, maybe he can return to Austria for good, freeing Cohen to reinvent himself again.