Access Atlanta > Movies > Blog > Archives > 2006 > November > 24 > Entry
‘Borat’s’ belly laughs can make a guy nearly lose his lunch
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
It’s Thanksgiving week, so I guess all of us are thinking about the stuff we’re, like, thankful for. Right?
Like, me? I’m thankful I’ve got eyes. But for five solid minutes last week, I wished I didn’t.
Those were five minutes when I was watching “Borat.”
If you’ve seen it, you know the five minutes I mean.
The five minutes where Borat (Sacha Baron Cohen) gets into a naked smackdown with his super-fat manager Azamat (Ken Davitian) after he finds Azamat making a “hand-party” over a picture of Pam Anderson.
And they start wrestling. Naked. And Borat gets his face stuck smack between the jiggly fat cheeks of Azamat’s [unclothed posterior].
Now, let me take a second here so I can give a shout-out to the multiplex at Atlantic Station, where I saw the movie — because, if you sit in the back row, you can go out the upstairs exit and there is a bathroom RIGHT THERE, in case you need to puke.
Because I almost did.
The rest of the movie is sorta awesome, though. Borat is this TV reporter from Kazakhstan, and he’s trying to learn about America — only he doesn’t know that Americans don’t carry chickens with us on the subway, and we don’t like to be kissed by complete strangers on the sidewalk.
Like this one guy in New York? Borat asks what his name is, and the guy goes, “My name is ‘Mind Your Own Business.’” And another guy in a blue Polo shirt runs away from Borat like his [posterior] is on fire. Make that like a girl whose [posterior] is on fire.
But that doesn’t stop Borat. He goes on a cross-country trip to California to find Pamela Anderson. And he stops in Alabama to learn etiquette lessons about how to have a nice dinner in a place called Magnolia Mansion on a road called Secession Drive.
I guess it won’t be a real big surprise to hear that all the people at the dinner are white. And at first, they’re nice enough — even when Borat goes to the bathroom and comes back to the dinner table with a bag full of his own [poo]. Everybody’s like, oh, that’s all right — you have different bathroom traditions in your country. Now would you like some dessert?
But when a black lady shows up as Borat’s date? Bam! The pastor at the table bails out — and everybody else almost throws themselves out the window, trying to get away from the black lady. And I find that real offensive. And anybody that knows the saying that starts “the blacker the berry” will understand my concern.
Because when I was just 13, I met this girl and [anecdote deleted, because this is a family newspaper].
OK, so my editor says maybe I’ve written enough about “Borat,” and I should use the rest of my column to list some of the things I’m thankful for.
All right, then. I’m thankful …
That Tom finally married Katie and maybe we don’t ever, ever have to hear their names again. (And I hope their adopted Chinese baby Suri grows up to be a scientist and does a DNA test and finds out who her real parents are.)
That my ex-wife has found “love” with a 300-pound Mexican illegal, so I don’t have to put up with LaDonna’s drunk, 3 a.m. booty calls that I got for a whole year after the divorce. That my 8-year-old son Cal had an airtight alibi for when his principal’s Honda got keyed and egged. (Go, little dude!)
That “Happy Feet” looks like the very last talking-animals-get-ejected-from-their-happy-homes-and-have-to-fend-for-themselves-in-the-jungle/sewer/forest/suburbs kiddie movie I have to take Cal to this year.
That when I get out of the shower every morning and see myself in the mirror, I realize if I was a girl that I would totally [unprintable-in-a-family-paper] me.
That Britney is free again, and I would totally [unprintable-in-a-family-paper] her.
That “The Departed” might finally win Martin Scorsese that Oscar he’s deserved for 20 years.
That “The Fountain” will remind folks that smoking weed can really improve the moviegoing experience.
That the new James Bond movie rocks so [expletive] hard.
That my new lady friend LaTrea said she really enjoyed our first date at the Clermont Lounge, and she would call me. But I am still waiting.
So, LaTrea — there it is in black-and-white for the whole world to see.
You don’t want to disappoint all my loyal readers, do you? So you need to call me — am I right?
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