I tried very hard to find something of value in this movie, really I did. I came up with a few small things, like, well, it was nicely photographed, it was only 82-minutes long, Cohen's multi-colored wig looked almost real. That's about it.
If it was supposed to be a comedy, it didn't move the audience (nor me) to even a snicker; each time something obviously tossed in to shock or raise an audible reaction - nada. As for dialog, what can be said about the response to the question asked early in the flick, "What do you think about autism?" "I think It's funny."
Sacha Baron Cohen built his first satire, "Borot," on a single idea, that of a supposedly naïve & curious fellow who bumbled his way around the United States satirically exposing the worst in people. He would bring in his camera crew, lure the subjects into revealing the worst of themselves, and then move on to the next - and next - etc. He got away with it because of the sheer novelty of his astounding "chutzpah" and of each successful manipulation of his victims.
This time around, with nothing really new to offer, he pushed the envelope on nudity, vulgarity, etc, relying upon more of the same format. The only difference; this time around his persona is a naive flaming homosexual. But the one-joke idea was too transparent; it sank like a lead pancake.
Bruno, as you probably know by now, is a homosexual naïf who wanders aimlessly around the country, going from one idea to another in an attempt to become famous. Along the way, he insults everyone in every manner possible: Mexicans are used as chairs to be sat upon, ultra-conservative Ron Paul is forced into a situation reminiscent of the one Michael Moore foisted on Alzheimer-ill Charlton Heston, babies are all but abused, martial arts are turned into farcical chaos, etc., culminating with a wrestling match set up as a "straight" guys match, to which red-necks attend - and during which Bruno and his adoring male attendant kiss, tear off clothes, and wrestling passionately, as if totally oblivious to the genuine, massive outrage generated beyond the well-shielded ring.
And so the film went - grotesquely on and on with its misfired one-joke routine - with Bruno in various stages of nudity playing the ever innocent, ever maligned queer.
Still trying to create his second, as one critic called it, "fearlessly offensive satire of American culture," he failed to top it with this one. Besides, all the prefacing hoopla preceding it knocked the foundation out; the magician's tricks were all too evident, too much on display.
Sorry, Mr. Cohen. You're obviously talented, you obviously have the guts to go as far as you must to raise laughs, but this time, even with four writers on board, it fizzled - at least for me and the audience with whom I suffered through this recent abortion. "Candid Camera" did it far better, and relied on far less scat.