Earlier this year before the new comedy Borat was released, Jewish-American comedian Albert Brooks imagined himself an envoy for the State Department in Looking for Comedy in the Muslim World. Like in Woody Allen's early stage play Don't Drink the Water, his primary aim was to spoof the ugly American abroad, while gently poking fun at foreign cultures. Self-obsession and wan humor torpedoed Brooks' effort, his mission to India and Pakistan proving less-than-vital to national security or box-office stability. The government couldn't have chosen a more weary or whiney comic emissary. 

Not so the government of the former Soviet republic of Kazakhstan. With the titular character of Borat, they've chosen a subversive and crudely humorous representative. Of course, Jewish-British comic Sacha Baron Cohen nominated himself to portray a TV correspondent sent by the country's Ministry of Information to the United States to make a documentary. Cohen originated the likeably boorish character on his British television show, which played stateside on HBO.

Borat is side-splitting and genuinely offensive. It  could truly cause an international incident, whereas Brooks made a lousy ambassador and any brouhaha was the result of his persona's finicky vanity. Cambridge-educated Cohen obviously doesn't have a vain bone in his body. He's a performance artist who relishes losing himself in his creations and emerges from this deliriously obscene prank as a cross between Mark Twain and Benny Hill.

The mockumentary makes you laugh and think about Americans (and Kazakhs) as they are and as political correctness would have them be. Spliced together improvisational sketches demonstrate the power of outrageous humor to entertain while skewering a culture. Most of what transpires is too gross to be described in detail. After introducing viewers to his native village, where one of the annual traditions is the "Running of the Jew," Borat and his producer Azamat (Ken Davitan) set off for New York.

Nothing is sacred except Pamela Anderson, whom Borat sees on a Baywatch episode and is determined to woo. She provides an excuse to travel cross country in an ice cream truck (the only means of conveyance he can afford) and target feminism, animal and gay rights, mental retardation, militaristic patriotism, and evangelical Christians, among other phenomena. Mangling the English language, Borat visits a rodeo, takes driving lessons, crashes a local TV station, wreaks havoc in a Dixie antique shop, dines with high society in Birmingham, and has a long fight with Azamat in the nude. 

Two other people behind Borat offer clues about what to expect. Larry Charles of Curb Your Enthusiam directs, so there's a mixture of deadpan realism and bemusement at mundane absurdities. Jay Roach, the director of the three Austin Powers films, gets a producer credit and is evidently sympathetic to Borat's fascination with body parts and bowel movements, and the sophomoric glee of talking about sex non-stop.

This isn't elevated humor; it's an extension of the burlesque tradition that inspired Benny Hill and Mike Meyers. But Cohen traffics in an offshoot that has a more sophisticated effect. By bringing his characters (including rapper Ali G and Bruno the fashion model) to real people in real situations, and with a determination never to break character, he forces audiences to ask who the joke is on. It's hard to believe some of these encounters weren't staged or that his interlocutors didn't know beforehand he was taking the piss, as the British say. Yet that doubt only adds another layer to the experience. This is America seen from the outside, and from the inside looking back out. Cohen is pulling our leg as far as he can and our responses are telling.

The adventures of one uniquely idiotic innocent abroad are finally closer to trenchant satire than disposable crudity, and Cohen is closer to Mark Twain than the cast of Jackass. Tisking audience members will be outnumbered by those squealing with shocked delight. And for all the ugliness he uncovers and engages in, America doesn't actually come off too badly. On an interpersonal level, we're quite gullible and kind. 

(Released by Twentieth Century Fox and rated "R" for pervasive strong crude and sexual content including graphic nudity, and language.)