View image Here is Borat ridiculing people who are not in on the joke so that you can feel socially superior, according to Christopher Hitchens and David Brooks.
British crank Christopher Hitchens has been writing about Borat's Kazakhstan for years, only he calls it "Iraq." Still, it's an imaginary place in Hitchens' brain, like Kazakhstan in Borat's or Nicole Kidman in David Thomson's.
I do not read Hitchens much at all anymore because he's stuck in 2002 and can't get out. But Hitchens has a perspective on "Borat" that's worth mentioning. First, he quotes a dim-witted passage from a review in "London's leftist weekly," the New Statesman, in which the writer professes that "it's shocking to witness the tacit acceptance with which Borat's ghoulish requests are greeted. Trying to find the ideal car for mowing down gypsies, or seeking the best gun for killing Jews, he encounters only compliance among America's salespeople."
To which Hitchens replies:
Oh, come on. Among the "cultural learnings of America for make benefit glorious nation of Kazakhstan" is the discovery that Americans are almost pedantic in their hospitality and politesse. At a formal dinner in Birmingham, Ala., the guests discuss Borat while he's out of the room—filling a bag with ordure in order to bring it back to the table, as it happens—and agree what a nice young American he might make. And this is after he has called one guest a retard and grossly insulted the wife of another (and remember, it's "Americana" that is "crass"). The tony hostess even takes him and his bag of s__t upstairs and demonstrates the uses not just of the water closet but also of the toilet paper. The arrival of a mountainous black hooker does admittedly put an end to the evening, but if a swarthy stranger had pulled any of the foregoing at a liberal dinner party in England, I wouldn't give much for his chances....I'll stop there for now. Hitchens' point is that "Borat" is something of a comedy of manners, and that what many are seeing as "shocking compliance" is simply politeness and an aversion to confrontation (particularly when there's a camera staring at you). On this isolated point, I think Hitchens is generally correct and the heinous, America-hating leftist is generally wrong. But I wonder if Hitchens (or the other guy) can see that one accurate observation does not make all others invalid. Hitchens' mistake -- a fallacy he indulges endlessly in his writing -- is in thinking the one thing he deigns to mention is all that's going on.Is it too literal-minded to point out what any viewer of the movie can see for himself—that the crowd at the rodeo stops cheering quite fast when it realizes that something is amiss; that the car salesman is extremely patient about everything from demands for p___y magnets to confessions of bankruptcy; and that the man in the gun shop won't sell the Kazakh a weapon? This is "compliance"? I have to say, I didn't like the look of the elderly couple running the Confederate-memorabilia store, but considering that Borat smashes hundreds of dollars worth of their stock, they bear up pretty well—icily correct even when declining to be paid with locks of pubic hair. The only people who are flat-out rude and patronizing to our curious foreigner are the stone-faced liberal Amazons of the Veteran Feminists of America—surely natural readers of the New Statesman.
In today's NY Times there's an article about the ways people behave to cope with intrusions into their "personal space." That's what Borat is doing, too -- though it's not the only thing he's doing -- and, yes, their discomfort of the perplexed can be funny. It always has been.
As for the bull-in-a-china-shop -- er, Borat-in-an-antique-shop -- scene, if you don't understand what's going on here, you've never seen a motion picture comedy. Perhaps the greatest example is the Mr. Muckle scene in W.C. Fields' 1934 "It's A Gift," where Fields does his best to keep a cantankerous old blind man from bumping around and destroying everything in his shop. Is this a joke at the expense of old blind people? I think not. Is it a joke at the expense of the innocent, milquetoast shop-owner, who is trying to be polite? I doubt it. The joke is about a catastrophe waiting to happen... and then happening. It's about expectations, anticipation, timing, and an impotent struggle to keep the worst from occurring while making sure it does.
It's not as gut-busting, or as protracted, as the now-famous wrestling scene, but as A.O. Scott wrote of that instant classic: "This had nothing to do with Kazakhstan or America or 'cultural learnings' of any kind. This was, the display of skin notwithstanding, one of the oldest jokes in the book: a tall, skinny man and a short, fat man fighting. A no-brainer. The dumbest kind of dumb show. And, therefore, a brief — actually, an almost unbearably long — reminder of a glorious tradition." That's right. Much of my affection for "Borat" is rooted in cinephilia -- my love for classic American screen comedy: Fields, Buster Keaton, Laurel and Hardy, the Marx Bros., Preston Sturges... (Sacha Baron Cohen's countryman, Charles Chaplin, is also an influence -- but I'm not such a fan.)
I've said it before, but Borat is an agent of chaos in the anarchic spirit of the Marx Bros. He combines Groucho's insults with Chico's goofy foreign accent -- not literally -- and Harpo's lust-driven physicality. Only the villains get really angry with the Marxes; everybody else, even the romantic leads in the earlier, funnier Paramout films, just gets mildly flustered and then tries to move on as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. If you don't recognize that movie-comedy convention, then perhaps you won't recognize what's going on in Borat, either.
Like the insufferably patronizing, binary-minded David Brooks, for example, who writes about "Borat" in the New York Times today, calling the character a snob and a bully -- part of "the rise of culture-war comedians [like Jon Stewart and Bill Maher] whose jokes heap scorn on the sorts of people guaranteed not to be in the audience." Brooks begins:
And so we enter the era of mass condescension. Thanks to the creativity of our cultural entrepreneurs, we enter a time when we can gather in large groups and look down at our mental, social and spiritual inferiors.To Brooks, the "genius" of Cohen's Borat is
ycophantic reverence for his audience, his refusal to challenge the sacred cows of the educated bourgeoisie. During the movie, Borat ridicules Pentecostals, gun owners, car dealers, hicks, humorless feminists, the Southern gentry, Southern frat boys, and rodeo cowboys. A safer list it is impossible to imagine.I agree Brooks's list is a "safe one" (that's why I pointed out Borat's "good liberal" treatment of blacks and gays), but he sure hasn't been exposed to much comedy. The anti-PC ridicule of pretentious Starbucks-quaffing, Whole Foods-shopping yuppies has been a modern comedy staple for years, from the espresso-ordering scene in Steve Martin's 1991 "L.A. Story" to Austin Powers (Dr. Evil's headquarters was at Starbucks) to Christopher Guest movies (especially "Best in Show") to The Onion to "Fraisier," "Will and Grace," "The Daily Show," "The Colbert Report," "The Office," "South Park" ... Where has Brooks been? (Answer: Making up fake opposing categories to stick people in. Brooks is the author of "Bobos in Paradise" -- as in "Bourgeois Bohemians." You know, Starbucks customers.)Cohen understands that when you are telling socially insecure audiences they are superior to their fellow citizens there is no need to be subtle. He also understands that any hint of actually questioning the cultural suppositions of his ticket-buyers — say by ridiculing the pretensions of somebody at a Starbucks or a Whole Foods Market — would fatally mar the self-congratulatory aura of the enterprise.
Upper-class pretensions have always been a target for comedy -- but I suppose Brooks hasn't seen Keaton's "The Navigator" or the Marx Bros.' "Animal Crackers" or "A Night at the Opera." (Brooks evidently didn't see the scene with Hitchens "stone-faced liberal Amazons of the Veteran Feminists of America," either.) Indeed, Borat makes a point of poking fun at keeping-up-with-the-Jonses social-status ambitions when complaining about his rival next-door neighbor in Kazakhstan, and bragging about his triumph in acquiring glass windows and iPods: "Great success." These are among the very few times in the movie where you laugh at Borat and with him at the same time.
Both Hitchens and Brooks appear to have thought "Borat" was funny, but don't feel comfortable with that feeling. Laughing appears to have been a sin that requires some sort of confession. I have a feeling they would say the same things about Christopher Guest or Coen Bros. movies -- that they are about mocking, ridiculing, tearing down the characters so that the audience can feel superior. It does not seem to have occurred to either of them that it might be possible to laugh at -- even mock -- someone, while still feeling sympathy or even empathy. And that such feelings, as opposed to sheer derision, make the comedy even funnier. Did they not cringe with, and for, the dinner guests, or the car salesman, or the feminists, or the ettiquette coach (who, unflustered, held her own admirably no matter how hard Borat tried to make her break)? I suppose that lack of empathy is their loss, but it's not the movie's fault.
Brooks continues:
Cohen also knows how to rig an unfair fight, and to then ring maximum humiliation and humor out of each situation. The core of his movie is that he and his audience know he is playing a role, and this gives him, and them, power over the less sophisticated stooges who don’t. The world becomes divided between the club of those who are in on the joke, and the excluded rubes who aren’t. The more tolerant the simpletons try to be toward Borat, the more he drags them into the realm of anti-Semitism and vileness. The more hospitable they try to be, the dumber they appear for not understanding the situation.I've already explained above why this (incredibly condescending) interpretation of "Borat" misses the mark. Is Borat's humor really based on ridicule of rubes who are "not in on the joke," or making audiences feel they are socially superior to the people on the screen? What's so terribly funny about that -- and why does Brooks assume that's the only "joke" to "get"?
Hitchens and Brooks agree, it's all another manifestation of the rudeness and crudeness of Young People Today.
Hitchens: "As far as one can tell, most youth culture is as inarticulate and illiterate and mannerless as Sacha Baron Cohen made it out to be [on "Da Ali G Show"]..."
Brooks: "There’s also that distinct style of young person’s snobbery. Young people haven’t accomplished much yet so they can only elevate themselves by endlessly celebrating their own superior sensibilities."
Yeah, surely that must explain why "Borat" is funny not.
Brooks seems to presuppose a lot about the "audience" for Borat. I can't imagine the movie could be that financially successful and only attract an audience of latte sipping, Daily Show watching, Whole Foods shoppers. Or would he argue that all of these simple "rubes" out there are seeing the movie but not getting it? Sounds more condescending of an assumption than anything in Borat.
One of the problems with the arguments of Hitchens and Brooks is that they don't take into consideration the nude wrestling scene. For me, as it was for A.O. Scott, that was the funniest moment in the film, and yet it has nothing to do with the "rubes." It's just pure, brilliant slapstick comedy.
Also, I found myself laughing at Borat much more than I did at his "victims."
Did I watch a different rodeo scene? The funniest moment in the film was when Borat proclaims, "May George Bush drink the blood of every man, woman, and child of Iraq!" and is met not only with cheers but a higher level of enthusiasm.
At what point does Hitchens think bulk of the "rodeo crowd realizes something is amiss?" When should they have realized?
Wow, do these guys get paid extra if they're insufferably condescending?
The delicious irony, of course, is that their whole argument boils down to "kids are smug and elitist these days" while themselves being, natch, smug and elitist. And even supposing for a minute that the audience that enjoyed Borat was just as bad as they say -- what about the critics? The critics are their peers, in age and experience, and for the most part not just another faction of "you damn kids." And the critics love this movie. How do Hitchens and Brooks explain that?
While I understand the glorious tradition of the Marx Bros. and Christopher Guest and the comedy of the uncomfortable, I think Borat gets placed into a new category b/c so much of it is real. I'm no fan of Hitchens or Brooks, but I'm not sure their problems come from not understanding the tradition.
Comparing a Marx Bros/Guest movie to Borat would be like comparing a film like Halloween to a genuine snuff film. I liked Borat, but I felt uncomfortable laughing at times (even though I think Marx and Guest are absolutely hilarious) because I felt that I wouldn't want to be placed in the same situations Borat placed real people in the film. When it's staged entirely w/ actors, it's a lot easier to swallow. When it's real people, I just find myself thinking I wouldn't like it if someone did that to me. On this level, Borat is actually a challenging film because it jumps from fiction to reality, and there are worse things that can befall you than being pranked, but...Brooks and Hitchens may be patronizing, but implying that just b/c someone is uncomfortable laughing at some of Borat means they're incapable or unwilling to appreciate cinema's glorious comedies like those of Chris Guest and the Marx Bros is also at least a little patronizing.
I'm pretty sure that the part where the lady teaches Borat how to use the "water closet" was staged before the dinner party but added in later for more of a humorous effect.
I just saw "Borat", and loved it (I'm still laughing at all of its jokes in my head, both the subtle ones and the fat-man's-butt-cheeks-suffocating-Borat ones). The film did what I was expecting (it exposed some of the hidden prejudices that Americans, and everyone, have), but what I was not expecting was its undercurrent of sweetness (yes, sweetness!). I agree in principle with Hitchens that "Borat" is actually a rather positive tribute to America and its people, albeit an extremely twisted one.
Consider not only the politeness of the Mansion crowd that Hitchens mentions, but also the sweetness of the black prostitute (perhaps a bit of a liberal cliche, but it's still touching), the jovialty of the street kids that Borat confronts (in a scene that forces the audience to confront their own prejudices and fears about inner city youths), the kindness of the elderly couple who run the Bed & Breakfast, the reluctant friendship of the driving instructor, even the polite incredulousness of both the humour and etiquette coaches.
Yes, "Borat" also exposes some easy red-state targets, such as the elderly cowboy who admits to wanting gays hanged, and the drunken frat boys who yearn for the days of slavery. But to me, the scene that tips off "Borat"'s underlying outlook on America is the near-climactic scene in which Borat joins a group of Evangelicals during prayer. Yes, the film pokes fun at their zealous ceremony, but it also shows that these people are willing to embrace Borat and help him.
Sure, there are uncomfortable scenes in "Borat", scenes that make us squirm as well as laugh, but to me they were stomachable because Sacha Baron Cohen isn't engaging in an all-out attack on America (as Armond White and others have accused him), but is rather needling some ordinary citizens in order to produce hilarious results, while not letting us forget that these people are not deserving of ridicule, but are probably acting as many of us would if we were faced with the whirlwind of outrageousness that is Borat.
(P.S. The one scene in the film that I did find a bit uncomfortable was, ironically, the one that I'm sure most critics of the film have the least problem with...SPOILERS...Borat's near-kidnapping of Pamela Anderson in the traditional Kazakh wedding sack that he has created. If Anderson was not in on the joke, then her fear in that scene is genuine, and she is literally running for her life. It seemed to me that this was taking the "Punk'd" credo to dangerous extremes).
God, the depths that Christopher Hitchens has sunk to. Parrotting right-wing talk show host descriptions of the evil, evil feminists who are out to get his balls would be funny if it wasn't for the fact that he handed his in years ago.
Good call Fritz. I think its wrong to jump all over critics of Borat, who try to bring some understanding to just what it is we're laughing at...I've been at odds with friends for weeks now over this, that there is a creepy element that what Sasha/Borat is doing, is extremely elitist and exploitative....
Christopher Guest movies are fully scripted, everyone involved is in on the joke. I sometimes wonder if Borat is less 'comedy' then a sort of avant-garde performance act.
I'm still not sure what to make of Borat, but what I DO know, is that I love that there is a film so seemingly juvenile and low-brow, that has sparked such high-minded discourse over the very nature of comedy, film, our national character...
So while I may not agree with all of what Brooks or Hitchins have to say, I find not only their opinions valid, but important as the shrill tide of Borat-is-Genius has grown increasingly nauseating. (..even if he is)
Another way in which Hitchens and Brooks seem to fall short is by listing only the scenes where instincts of politeness cause people not to admonish Borat's intolerance, and not to mention the scenes where his interview subjects say things as objectionable as those said by Borat, only because they seem to have found a kindred soul who would appreciate their "non-PC" opinions.
I'm speaking primarily of the rodeo promoter, who suggests Borat shave his mustache to look less like a terrorist, and then tells Borat that "[hanging gays in the town square] is what we're trying to do here," and of the fraternity brothers, who speak with misogyny and racism of their own, not simply in agreement with Borat.
I'm reminded of one of the more shocking "I can't believe they just said that" moments of Borat's appearances on HBO: when Borat asks two rich Southern gentlemen in a wine-and-cigars club if their black waiter "is slave," they respond by telling him no, there are no slaves in America today. When he asks why not, the reply is not "because it is wrong to enslave people," but "you're not allowed to do that anymore."
It seems odd to me to compare Borat with the films of the Marx brothers. Because those films are fake. Margaret Dumont is an actress. If she was an unwitting passerby that Groucho deemed fit to ridicule and pounced on her the way Borat pounces on his victims, it'd rightfully look like Groucho was a big bully (a funny bully, no doubt), using his comedy to demean the innocent.
I can't laugh because to me, it amounts to laughing at the bigger kid tripping the little boy to make him look stupid. The people in Borat (mostly) are not asking for it, yet he feels no remorse in giving it to them in shovelled handfuls.
I did laugh at the rodeo, though. The horse falling down was a serendipitous riot.
(P.S. The one scene in the film that I did find a bit uncomfortable was, ironically, the one that I'm sure most critics of the film have the least problem with...SPOILERS...Borat's near-kidnapping of Pamela Anderson in the traditional Kazakh wedding sack that he has created. If Anderson was not in on the joke, then her fear in that scene is genuine, and she is literally running for her life. It seemed to me that this was taking the "Punk'd" credo to dangerous extremes).
I'm inclined to think this scene was staged, if only because I spent a few years working promotions exactly like that Pam Anderson signing one for a radio station... and there is no way we would have allowed an unknown camera into the areas it was allowed to go into. Not to mention security would have been not only assaulting Borat, but taking Anderson away with them. She wouldn't have just run off into the parking lot like that.
Still, I'm not too into figuring out what was real and what wasn't. This increasing urge to autopsy what is undoubtedly the most successful comedy of the year strikes me as a little strange.
this is entirely off-topic, but one thing i would like to see you post on would be your reasoning behind your preference for keaton over chaplin. i'd be quite interested in reading such a piece, since i myself have the complete opposite preference.
"Oh, come on. Among the "cultural learnings of America for make benefit glorious nation of Kazakhstan" is the discovery that Americans are almost pedantic in their hospitality and politesse."
What Hitchens fails to understand is that even this "politesse" skewers these Americans. If Borat was not a foreigner but American, the people who are so polite to him would think something was fishy and think maybe they were being the butt of jokes. But becuase Borat is a foreigner, it is okay for him to be that stupid. Everybody who "helps" him seems to accept readily that this foreigner could be so backward, shocking and ignorant. What does this say about how we look at people from beyond our borders, especially people from Asia and the Middle East?
I agree with Fritz. It's one thing to pay Maragret Dumont to be Groucho Marx's foil but quite another to manipulate real people so they can become a laughing stock for a cinema audience.
Dear Fritz and aengus: Under most circumstances I'd agree with you but, as I said, something about the fictional framework of the "Borat" movie made it work for me. Even though I assumed these were "real people," I did not come to the movie knowing who was in on the joke or when they were were in on it (before or after the cameras rolled). As for Margaret Dumont: If you read about the Marx Bros., you'll find that everybody involved claimed she was just as clueless as her characters, and couldn't understand why these nice boys were sometimes so rude to her.
Dear Matt: My preference for Keaton over Chaplin (although I love "Modern Times") comes down to two things: 1) I relate to the Keaton character's stoic struggle against the forces of an indifferent universe and his refusal to play for sympathy (whereas Chaplin is all about portraying the Little Tramp as the object of sympathy -- and bathos); 2) Keaton's kinetic (and breathtakingly beautiful) sense of cinema, his joy in playing with the properties of the medium. Chaplin seems stage-bound in comparison. Some critic once said that Chaplin's entire sense of the cinematic was to point the camera at himself. That's pretty much it, as far as I'm concerned.
I'm not saying Chaplin wasn't a genius; just that I don't respond to him. He strikes me as trying too hard; dated, phony, manipulative -- a fine clown, but not much of a moviemaker. Keaton, on the other hand, moves me profoundly (and beyond laughter). His films, I think, amount to a philosophy for viewing the world (some see something similar in Jacques Tati's "Playtime"). But then, Keaton is my most beloved filmmaker ever, so everybody comes up a little short in comparison!