Entirely bare: Sacha Baron Cohen

The comedian's first-ever British interview as himself.

Cruise-deck sunbathing and babes with machine guns – MailOnline has been all over the stunts for upcoming film The Dictator at Cannes this week. Photos of Admiral General Aladeen cavorting with bikini-clad models, driving a Lamborghini to the red carpet and tossing body bags overboard from a ship have constituted the promotional work of Sacha Baron Cohen's latest creation. The behaviour's no more outlandish than that of his characters Borat, Bruno and Ali G from his TV show and movies.

An out-of-character appearance by the actor and comedian, then, is less audacious but far more intriguing. In his first broadcast interview given in the UK, Baron Cohen has spoken on Radio 4 to the BBC's arts editor Will Gompertz about Jews and comedy, the "hilarious" appeal of Colonel Gaddafi and a rather sinister concession made by the UN"We asked to shoot inside the United Nations," Baron Cohen says of the making of The Dictator, but "they actually refused":

We said, "Why? This is a pro-democracy movie." They said, "That's the problem. We represent a lot of dictators and they're going to be very angry at this portrayal of them. You can't shoot in here"

Baron Cohen says that in his latest film, he wanted to make clear it was "in no way an attack or comment on Arabs" but rather "an attack and parody of dictators". The only people who would be offended by it are those "dictators and fans of dictatorships". But he admits to "[drawing] a certain amount of pleasure from riling up bigots".

Asked by Gompertz why he hasn't spoken publicly about himself or his work before, the Bafta and Golden Globe winner says it was to "protect the comedy and protect the movie" – that if, during Da Ali G Show days, he was recognisable, "there was a chance that the interviewee would see [me] and withdraw consent for the TV show":

I remember sitting on the tube and people would talk about Ali G while sitting next to me. One time I was dressed as Borat before anyone had seen [the film]. I was standing by an Ali G DVD stand in HMV on Oxford Street, all the Ali G fans were around and no one knew it was me. There was always a certain satisfaction. I enjoyed being anonymous.

Gaddafi wannabe: Sacha Baron Cohen as "The Dictator". Photograph: Getty Images

Alice Gribbin is a Teaching-Writing Fellow at the Iowa Writers' Workshop. She was formerly the editorial assistant at the New Statesman.

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In Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 2, every other line reeks of a self-help manual

This lame sequel suggests the makers have largely forgotten why the original was so refreshing.

The 2014 romp Guardians of the Galaxy boasted the budget of a blockbuster and the soul of a B-movie. What that meant in practice was that audiences had to endure the same biff-pow battle scenes and retina-blistering effects as any space adventure, but they were rewarded with eccentric characters and tomfoolery for its own sake.

Despite the Marvel Studios imprimatur, the film showed the forces of intergalactic evil being fought not by superheroes, but by a ragtag band of bickering goofballs: Peter Quill (Chris Pratt), aka Star-Lord, a self-regarding rogue in the Han Solo mould; the green-faced alien Gamora (Zoe Saldana); Drax (Dave Bautista), a literal-minded hulk; Rocket, a racoon-like warrior (voiced by Bradley Cooper); and Groot, a piece of bark that says “I am Groot” over and over in the dulcet tones of Vin Diesel. Movies this odd don’t usually become $770m smash hits but this one did – deservedly.

Those characters return in Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 2 (the “Vol 2” reflects Peter’s love of mix-tapes) but the new film suggests the makers have largely forgotten why the original was so refreshing. Gags are rehashed; several sequences (including an interminable slow-motion section involving a laser-powered arrow) are dragged way beyond their desirable lifespan. Late in the day, Rocket tells his shipmates that they have too many issues, which rather pinpoints the problem with the screenplay by the director, James Gunn. Gunn has saddled his characters with unreasonable baggage, all of it relating to family and belonging. No matter how far into space they travel, all roads lead back to the therapist’s couch.

Peter, raised by his late mother, is delighted when Ego (Kurt Russell) materialises claiming to be the father he never knew. The old man makes grand pronouncements, only to undercut them within seconds (“’Scuse me, gotta take a whizz”) but, on the plus side, he has his own planet and pulls the whole “One day, son, all this will be yours” shtick. Gamora also has family business to contend with. Her blue-skinned sister, Nebula (Karen Gillan), wants to kill her: Nebula has never quite got over Gamora being Daddy’s favourite. To be fair, though, he did force them to fight one another, replacing parts of Nebula’s body with metal whenever she lost, so it’s not like we’re talking about only one sister being allowed to watch Top of the Pops.

The more Peter gets to know Ego, the less admirable he seems as a father, and soon we are in the familiar territory of having parenting lessons administered by a Hollywood blockbuster. The reason for this became obvious decades ago: the film industry is populated by overworked executives who never get to see their children, or don’t want to, and so compensate by greenlighting movies about what it means to be a good parent. Every other line here reeks of the self-help manual. “Please give me the chance to be the father your mother wanted me to be,” Ego pleads. Even a minor character gets to pause the action to say: “I ain’t done nothing right my whole life.” It’s dispiriting to settle down for a Guardians of the Galaxy picture only to find you’re watching Field of Dreams with added asteroids.

Vol 2 gets by for an hour or so on some batty gags (Gamora misremembering the plot and star of Knight Rider is an especially juicy one) and on the energising power of Scott Chambliss’s glorious production design. The combination of the hi-tech and the trashy gives the film the appearance of a multimillion-dollar carnival taking place in a junkyard. Spectacular battles are shot through scuffed and scratched windscreens, and there are spacesuits cobbled together from tin pots and bubble-wrap. This is consistent with the kitschfests that inspired the Guardians aesthetic: 1980s science-fiction delights such as Flash Gordon, Spacehunter: Adventures in the Forbidden Zone and The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the 8th Dimension.

If only Vol 2 had mimicked their levity and brevity. Gunn ends his overlong movie with a bomb being attached to a giant brain, but this is wishful thinking on his part. He hasn’t blown our minds at all. It’s just a mild case of concussion. 

Ryan Gilbey is the New Statesman's film critic. He is also the author of It Don't Worry Me (Faber), about 1970s US cinema, and a study of Groundhog Day in the "Modern Classics" series (BFI Publishing). He was named reviewer of the year in the 2007 Press Gazette awards.

This article first appeared in the 27 April 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Cool Britannia 20 Years On

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