Saturday, November 3, 2007

Borat One Year On

In took about a year for Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan to migrate from the movie theaters to cable; and, given how much has happened over those twelve months, it seems worth looking at the film again in this new context. When the film first appeared, I was very occupied with the very concept of satire and hypothesized that it "reflects a reality with far more accuracy than conventional prose could ever do;" and more recently I have suggested that ridicule may be the most effective weapon we have in combating the madness in which we seem to be immersed. Furthermore, the basic premise of this film reflects a philosophy of cultural relativism that goes at least as far back as Voltaire, if not further: Every culture finds at least some of the traits of any other culture to be anything along the scale from "a bit much" to downright offensive; and every now and then it is important to be reminded that other cultures think of us the same way. This was one of the messages of Osama bin Laden's September video, but this was a case in which our culture felt obliged to both distort and ignore the message. On the other hand people had to pay their own money (theater admission, video rental, or cable subscription) to get the Borat message, so it is worth asking if Sacha Baron Cohen was any more effective in communicating with us.

In retrospect I would say that this particular experiment in cultural relativism was a failure. I suspect that, for the most part, we are all aware of our most ugly traits; and we do not gain very much by being forced to look in a mirror that makes those traits all too evident. That was the basic theme of Eugene O'Neill's The Iceman Cometh, which is why I cited it as part of my remarks about Borat last year. As a result I found myself thinking less about the benefits of satire and more about the English title of a Peter Handke play, Offending the Audience. Handke was more concerned with just breaking down expectations of theater-goers, rather than forcing them to look in mirrors that emphasize their ugliest traits; but he has still been no stranger to controversy. He thus has a reputation for offending, but then Voltaire had the same reputation. Indeed, in the context of writers like Voltaire, O'Neill, and Handke, Baron Cohen would be little more than a side show, were it not for the fact that most of his audience gives little thought or care to any of this more prestigious predecessors.

One year on I feel I can take issue with what SF Weekly said about the film: "Borat makes you laugh, but Baron Cohen forces you to think." The laughs have not held up that well over twelve months, so there is little about the film that provokes, stimulates, or encourages reflection. Today Baron Cohen seems more like an ineffective Don Quixote battling windmills than like a master such as the Don's creator or, in a later period, Voltaire. He probably still deserves points for trying, but he might do better to seek out another day job.

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