Borat 2: Does Sacha Baron Cohen's Satire Break New Ground Or Simply Capitalize On His Privilege? (Spoilers!)
An episode of The Goldbergs involved brothers Adam and Barry mocking their sister Erica’s love of the boy band, New Kids on The Block. To ridicule her, they make a video performing one of the band’s songs but end up embarrassing themselves instead. Rather than being interpreted as a criticism of Erica, their friend describes the video as an accidental “labor of love” instead; given the attention to detail. They vow not to let it see the light of day, but soon learn a truth that still holds in today’s interconnected world: once something’s out there it’s hard to stop it from spreading.
To clarify, this post isn’t about
The Goldberg’s but rather the message that episode conveyed. Which is: if not executed correctly, satire
can ultimately replicate the problems it’s trying to ridicule. This usually happens in music; Lorde’s “Royals”,
which sounds awfully close to the rap its lyrics seem to disapprove of, or the
more on the nose “Stupid Girls” by Pink: the video for which takes shots at women
who capitalize off of their sexuality while allowing her to do just that.
More specifically,
the latest installment of Borat from media personality Sacha Baron Cohen
takes aim at the lunacy of Trump’s America.
However, in doing so the actors also take advantage of privileges that
come with being white journalists, thus creating a blind spot in their
experiment. Further, the film doesn’t say
anything new about our society, alternates between candid and scripted and
overall isn’t very funny. In short,
Borat 2: Subsequent Movie film has been massively overhyped.
For starters,
something I couldn’t stop wondering throughout the movie is whether Cohen and Maria
Bakalova (who plays Borat’s daughter) would’ve gotten as far into the skits as
they did if they were black. Granted,
this issue doesn’t start and end with Borat 2.
I’ve long since realized that investigative journalism is a career that
lends itself greatly to white people, given that humans respond more favorably to them. But in the days before watching
the film, I kept hearing about how “brave” the actors were. So, it’s only logical that I’d be skeptical about
such claims and question how much their actions were driven by bravery, as
opposed to existing in bodies that allowed them to behave so liberally.
Further, Borat 2
doesn’t bring anything new to the table in terms of its critique of our morality. Following my previous point, the notion that
people will generally drop their guard, become agreeable or project innocence
onto those they find attractive, as is the case with Tutar (Bakalova), is not exactly
groundbreaking. I’d even argue that
shows like What Would You Do? address this better. Further, we know humans will ignore their
morals or, at least, not openly confront bigotry when profit is at stake: it’s
called capitalism and it’s not a “rural America” problem, it’s an Earth
problem. So, given that the scenes where
Cohen is trying to highlight people’s complicity when faced with Borat’s bigoted
and sexist comments also involve him making big purchases (e.g., a cage, breast
implants), the message is severely diluted.
Additionally, the credibility
of the people’s reactions to Borat and Tutar’s behavior overall is
questionable, given they alternate between what seems to be scenes where the
subject was let in on the joke beforehand and scenes where they are not. While it’s hard to tell which parts were 100%
percent candid, it’s safe to assume the scenes where the truck driver is
helping Borat nail Tutar back into the box had at least some offscreen prior communication
between the participants. This wouldn’t be
a problem if this method of humor was consistent. But given the film’s implied purpose--to magnify
the politics of Trump’s America--I’m left confused about which skits I’m
supposed to take at face value and which, such as the part with the elder women
in the church, were scripted. Even the
scenes with Giuliani may not have been as “random” as most reviewers have been
insisting. Granted, I never saw the
first Borat. Though, if it suffers from
this same identity crisis then I’m not missing much.
Also concerning
was the emotional support role that the black woman fell into towards the
end. Admittedly, I’ve become increasingly
sensitive about the depth of contribution the black characters provide in shows/films. But I couldn’t help but find the scenes where
Jeanise was advising Tutar on marriage triggering; especially given that marriage
and dating is an area white women should be giving black women free advice in,
not the other way around. In other words,
watching Jeanise and Tutar’s exchange was as cringe as watching a homeless
person console a wealthy person over the loss of their iPhone.
Finally, Borat 2
simply wasn’t that funny. I’d heard so
much about how hilarious the first one was, so I had high expectations. But other than a few occasional laughs, such
as Borat telling the man at the debutante ball “You my best friend” or the
crunchy VHS like footage of the parade at the end, I didn’t find myself amused. Indeed, maybe I wasn’t drunk enough.
Overall, Borat 2
effectively infiltrates and highlights the county fair culture that permeates rural
America. However, in doing so it also
falls into a pit common to most satire.
And that is: blending in so well with the subjects being criticized that
viewers can’t help but notice the investigators’ inherent privilege to do so,
and to an extent legitimizing said behavior by participating in it. I mean, if a cop goes undercover to catch a
killer but ends up killing five civilians in the process, was “justice” really
served?
Maybe satire of
the future should try to engineer in consequences. As in, those being mocked don’t accidentally gain
a new ally, as did hardcore conspiracists Jerry and Jim, who housed Borat for a
few days.
Borat 2 is on
Amazon Prime and I suggest you watch it for yourself and not take my concerns
as gospel. With that said, thanks for
reading and stay pissed.
Comments
Post a Comment