'Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan' (R)(out of four)

In many ways, "Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan" is more than just a comedy: To call it only comedy would do the "movie film," as Borat would put it, a serious injustice.

Simply put, "Borat" transcends the genre, and is without question the funniest movie of the year -- if not years. Even fans that already know the character that Sacha Baron Cohen created for HBO's uproarious "Da Ali G Show" should gear up for something they've never seen before.

In "Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan," Borat seeks out to make a "documentary" about the "US and A" to bring home to his people. But when he happens upon a television rerun of "Baywatch" in his New York hotel room and falls head-over-heels for Pamela Anderson, the trip changes direction. With his producer, Azamat Bagatov (Ken Davitian) and camera crew in tow, Borat hits the road for California on mission to marry Anderson, documenting his "cultural learnings" along the way.

Perhaps best described as a "pseudo-documentary," "Borat" could best be compared to the improvisational comedy-style documentaries of Christopher Guest. But unlike Guest's films, no one on-screen but Baron Cohen and Davitian is in on the joke. If anything was staged -- and there had to be a certain amount that was -- you'd never be able to tell the difference. It's an amazing blend of fiction and reality.

Much to the chagrin of the real nation of the Kazakhstan (which has already denounced the film), the British-born Baron Cohen becomes Borat Sagdiyev, a hopelessly misogynistic, racist and homophobic Kazak television reporter. And that's only describing Borat's ignorance and insensitivity in a nutshell. No matter their race, creed, religion or sexual orientation, everyone, and I mean everyone, is a target in this film.

As shocking as some of his actions and words are in the film, few seem offended by Borat's antics. Wearing a cheesy suit and speaking in butchered English, Borat comes off as the ultimate fish out of water. He's a horribly ignorant yet good-natured and extremely likable foreigner out of touch with the American culture, and never once appears like a mean-spirited brute. And while total strangers don't have the time of day for him, a surprising number of people who let Borat get close handle him with kid gloves. When he encounters people who share his archaic, bigoted views, it's funny and scary at the same time.

Brutally funny at every turn, "Borat" is as politically incorrect as it comes. And for those who are sick of everybody getting so offended at everything, it should come as a tremendous breath of fresh air. But if you don't have a thick skin for this kind of comedy, the best advice I can give is, just don't see it: Nobody's forcing you to go. Honestly, there are a lot more truly offensive things in the world to get worked up about.

But if you do end up going, with a begrudging attitude, keep this simple thing in mind: It's satire at its finest, and Borat, for the most part, is the butt of the joke.

The film drips with irony, especially when Baron Cohen, who is Jewish, mercilessly pokes fun of Borat's anti-Semitism. Some scenes, like the "Running of the Bulls"-inspired "Running of the Jew" ceremony in Kazakhstan, are just too outrageous to take seriously. Other laughs are of the cringe-induced "Did he just say what I think he said?" order, as Baron Cohen roots out bigotry with some of his unknowing interview subjects. In one scene, he asks a gun-shop owner which is the best handgun to shoot Jews with, and the owner, without hesitation, recommends "a .45 or a 9-millimeter."

While some of Borat's comedy devices are borrowed from his "reports" on "Da Ali G Show" (which also features Baron Cohen's "reports" as the "fabulous" gay Austrian fashion reporter, Bruno, and Ali G, a British rapper), "Borat" can hardly be compared to the "Saturday Night Live" school of filmmaking. This is not a feeble attempt to stretch a 3-minute skit into a 90-minute movie. It is much bigger than a one-joke movie.

Directed by Larry Charles (producer of "Seinfeld" and co-creator of "Curb Your Enthusiasm" and "Entourage") there are far too many laugh-out-loud funny scenes to mention. In one scene, Borat -- wearing an American flag shirt -- sings about Kazakhstan to the tune of "The Star Spangled Banner" to a stunned crowd in a jam-packed rodeo arena. In another, a high-society matron of a dinner etiquette club teaches Borat how to use a toilet, after he brings a bag of something unmentionable to the table after a bathroom break.

Perhaps the pinnacle, though -- which I consider to be one of the funniest scenes ever to grace film -- involves a naked wrestling match between Borat and his producer. It's almost certain to leave you in tears and give you stomach pains from the laughter.

Of course, the genius of "Borat" is the way Baron Cohen duped so many people to participate in the film in the first place. You have to remember, "Borat" is not an exercise in ambush filmmaking, where he takes his subjects by surprise. Since cameras were filming his every move, he got the people featured in the film to sign consent forms to release the footage. Apparently those people didn't read the fine print -- and it's going to come back to haunt them for the rest of their lives.

True, Baron Cohen may be looking at some lawsuits from those he embarrasses in "Borat," but they don't appear to stand a chance at succeeding if they signed up for an "interview." If they do happen to get to court, Baron Cohen can simply do what Borat does best: plead ignorance.