Sunday, 12 July 2009

Why don't I want to see Bruno?

So Sunday is well on the way to death, and there's a a film I haven't seen yet. This may not seem like a big deal to most, well to all. But screw you all, because film nerditude is in my blood and I haven't seen all the new releases by the time Sunday's through then hell's frozen over. I guess the eternally damned are taking a much appreciated chill, because the night is out and I haven't seen Bruno yet.

This isn't a Sacha Baron Cohen thing, because while I can't say I like the guy he certainly has made me laugh in the past. From Da Ali G show to the much talked about and much lauded Borat. My gracefully stepping over Ali G in the house should be noted as an act of graciousness. Anyways, I liked Borat, it was funny and at least a little bit original. Its road movie set-up was clever and made the relentlessly and sometimes shocking humor passable. But despite the mean-spiritedness of Cohen, Borat himself was a likable creation. Bruno on the other hand, not so much. Yes I know this is the point and he is a monstrous amalgamation of the bacterial fame whores who pollute the world but more specifically Los Angeles and Hollywood. These are legitimate targets, and their self-importance and egotism deserves highlighting. But these are not the targets of Bruno. Fine, maybe its a scathing look at fame, bringing those celebrities down to our level? Nope, coz the targets of Bruno are Idiots. Sometimes homophobic idiots, sometimes racist or sexist idiots. But idiots nonetheless, and the problem with this tact at least for me is that its kind of like a prizefighter beating up an asshole fan. The dude may deserve it, but from the prizefighter's perspective he's punching below his weight class. And that's all Cohen does, is pick on people who can't do a thing about it. I could tolerate this the first time round, but doing exactly the same thing again with just a different character in the lead role is just dull. You can't tell the same jokes at every gig you do and just change your clothes and call it different.

Maybe I'm wrong, maybe I'll see it and laugh uproariously. But I doubt it somehow, because aside from me being a miserable motherfucker I know when I'm being duped.

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