Borat: Cultural Learning of America Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan is not a movie to watch while you're drinking chocolate milk. It will come back up through your nostrils and stain your shirt. Not once. Not twice, but many, many times. Breaking on the American screens November Sixth -- just in time for Election Day -- I predict Sasha Baron Cohen's new movie about the hopelessly misguided, disgusting and thoroughly reprehensible Kazakh TV reporter may cause more electoral carnage then the Foley affair. Consider -- if everyone in America goes to see it on opening day -- as they should -- they will be so paralyzed with joyous, politically incorrect rage they will simply stay home, eat Cheez-curls, and replay scene after insane scene in their Borat-addled minds, spewing curls all over the couch with each guffaw.One can only hope they aren't drinking chocolate milk at the time.
Yes, it's that funny.
Think Animal House. Think Airplane. Think early Woody, rapid fire gags, not a sagging minute, unexpected laughter. Then, add in a heavy dose of Stewart and Onion fake news, super stealth video technology that never existed back in the day, and, for this reviewer at least, more than a sprinkle of Alan Funt's Candid Camera.
OK, it's "Mockumentary." Granted. But with an extra wallop. The former Ali G. works that fine line between real and fake very well. (Although Chris Morris of the UK's Brasseye may quibble.)
Having said all that, what will you see on Borat's Odyssey from the hut he shares with his donkey and tape player to "Mahleebu" and "Pahmala," is a comic actor with the grace of Cleese and the timing of Sellers. Lots of fat Americans. Grouchy feminists and steel-rimmed heartland fascists. Frat boys. Homies. Nudnik New Yorkers. And a scene so outrageous that I won't mention that keeps rewinding in my mind days later.
I walked out, drained of laughter, wondering if it was the best movie I ever saw or the worst. Kind of like I did after Animal House and Airplane.
Somewhere, John Belushi is smiling.
'Til next time. - Ken Krimstein
Mr. Krimstein is a writer, cartoonist, father, and grump who lives in New York City. So there.