"Borat," and Sacha Baron Cohen, who plays Borat, are inescapably likable. This summary perception must wade ding dong deep through a lewd, profane, and offensive parade of crude antics.
You may enjoy this movie because it's outrageous times a hundred. You may enjoy this movie because you are incapable of feeling outraged while you're laughing out loud. You may enjoy this movie because you are lewd, profane, and offensive, but you are just nowhere near as good at it as Borat.
You may try to lift yourself above the vulgarity of this film by joining the hype that "Borat" is brilliant satire.
Consider it praise, indeed, to mention Sacha Baron Cohen's brainchild in the same vein as Jon Stewart's "The Daily Show," but both of these bold ventures employ a somewhat disturbing tactic, intelligence and savvy notwithstanding. Using the license and ambush of fake journalism, they conceal their intentions to manipulate the non-actors they draw into their nets. As with "The Daily Show," "Borat" leaves it to you to sort the obnoxiousness factor on the laugh meter.
Essentially, Borat is a TV journalist from Kazakhstan. After introducing you to his homeland, he travels to America to film a documentary about Americana. The film that houses that filmmaking is a sly mockery of a mockumentary.
There seems to be no holds barred in this movie, including what you might term a nude wrestling scene. Unabashed tastelessness runs amok at this point, but you'll laugh as you cringe. Unabashed tastelessness also runs keen. At a rodeo, for instance, Borat corrals cheers then silence then boos in a single ride. At a dinner, tidy with etiquette, Borat pushes buttons until they burst.
You might think you'd be wiser to distance yourself from the brand of creativity and imagination in this film. Not.
This Borat, this Sacha Baron Cohen who plays him, showcases a supple stiffness. He fits every forced situation like a middle finger flipping in the wind.