Sacha Baron Cohen brazenly flaunts politically correct sacred cows en route to a stirring political statement of his own in the often hilarious The Dictator. Cohen’s third film is nominally about a racist, sexist and egomaniacal dictator from Wadiya (a fictional Northern African nation) who becomes a fish out of water after taking up with a New York City radical feminist health co-op manager, Zooey (Anna Faris). Cohen and director Larry Charles attempt to pack a serious punch in its conclusion when Admiral General Aladeen (Cohen) addresses a roomful of dignitaries and bemoans his country’s policies of “the one percent” controlling the wealth and starting wars “with the wrong country,” etc. America’s own hypocritical power structure is jarringly held up to a mirror and whether you agree with the polemic or not, Cohen’s boldness offers a fine exclamation point to a film that plunges into yet more rarefied rough-and-tumble, blunt offensiveness.
In no particular order there’s a side-splitting scene in a helicopter where a couple of tourists become terrified as they listen to what they believe is Almadeen and a pal talk about a terrorist plot, a scene where Almadeen delivers a baby that is meant to stretch your ability to be shocked, recurring slapstick involving a dismembered head, a scene on a high wire reminiscent of the silent film era, numerous Zooey hairy armpit references, and a few scenes where Cohen’s clueless body double (Cohen) is held up to high ridicule, including a preposterously amusing scene with Wadiyan female soldier prostitutes. Sir Ben Kingsley is aboard as Aladeen’s plotting brother, and the rightful heir to the throne, John C. Reilly as a unique bodyguard, and Megan Fox makes a cameo where she’s the target of a post-coital cuddling joke.
Cohen and Charles’ first scripted film abandons the faux documentary style of Borat and Bruno and thus sacrifices Cohen’s trademark technique of going after gullible innocent bystanders, or, in the case of his TV character Ali G, celebrities. The script has a few soft spots. When Almadeen goes to New York’s “Little Wadiya” he’s confronted by a roomful of expatriates he thought he’d already murdered in the old country (a running joke has Almadeen ordering executions at the drop of a hat, including his mom). The scene’s funny at first but goes on far too long. Editing is often choppy. Yet comparisons that Cohen has veered off into Adam Sandler territory with this film are far too myopic. Its highly commendable 83-minute length keeps its sizzle from going stolid.
If you’re unwilling to laugh at stuff we normally keep on an off-limits pedestal, Cohen’s probably not for you. Shame, you’d be missing a razor-sharp if imperfect satirist who recalls Lenny Bruce albeit through a Howard Stern prism. Cohen’s one sick dude, does uncanny voices, and now has nicely upped his political ante.
8 Appalling, Gross Brutes (Out of 10)
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