Movie Review:
The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas 

It would never have occurred to me to see, let alone buy a movie called The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas if I hadn't accidentally encountered it while channel surfing one day. I caught it at a particularly cute scene, in which Dolly Parton (who plays the Madame of the brothel in question, Miss Mona) and Burt Reynolds (Sheriff Ed Earl) sing 'Sneakin' Around', a cheerful little duet about their clandestine rendezvous.  I didn't watch it properly after that but bought it, years later, when it was on sale at my local DVD place.

Based on a true-life story and adapted from a musical stage production by the same name, the movie follows the trials and tribulations of 'the Chicken Ranch', a century-old brothel in small-town Texas. The existence of this beloved institution is threatened when Melvin P. Thorpe, a self-styled moral crusader and television reporter, targets the illegal operations of the brothel for a tell-all expose. Matters come to a head when the Sheriff confronts Thorpe on-air and inadvertently compromises the reputation of his town and his paramour, Miss Mona. The plot is played out through these two central characters, although the movie features lively supporting roles, most notably by Charles Durning in his role as the 'sidestepping' Governor. The casting is superb and the actors live and breathe their roles, especially Dolly Parton, who shines as the Madame. As one reviewer said, "You can't help liking Miss Mona - she's not like any prostitute or madam the 1982 movie-going public had ever seen. She's a ray of sunshine, totally forthright, honest, optimistic, generous, open-hearted and sweet."

I watched this movie with my husband who, like me, was thoroughly charmed by it. We both were struck by how natural the relationship between Mona and the Sheriff is - like any happy couple, they are not just lovers but good friends. And, might I add, good people.

Apparently the movie didn't do very well at the box office, possibly because of its controversial title. Family viewing it is not, but neither is it vulgar or inappropriate. As Mona says in her song 'A Lil' Ole Bitty Pissant Country Place', "there's nothin' dirty goin' on!"

Borat - a review (of sorts)

I finally did it - I went and saw Borat. Against my better judgement, I might add. What possessed me to fight my instincts and go watch it? Well, peer pressure (from friends back home who fear they won't get to see it themselves) and curiosity (because of the rave reviews it got in practically every reliable newspaper/magazine here).

I went off, hoping to be pleasantly surprised. Was Sacha Baron Cohen going to come up with anything more inventive than his staple "lets pull a fast one on this presumed religious bigot"? In all honesty, I can't say he really did manage to come up with anything surprising. Sure, there were some funny bits - but I found myself laughing mostly because I had paid money to laugh - I expected to have a good time.

The only surprising thing I took away from the experience, was the reactions of the audience around me. After all, 'Borat' is as much a spoof on Kazakhstan (or Romania, depending on how you look at it), as it is a critique of contemporary America and its people. So, why was everyone laughing?

A few weeks ago, while watching the Bill Maher show, Maher and his guests were discussing the implications of the Senate elections. Did the Democratic victory imply that the US was not as conservative as everyone thought it was? Or did it point to a liberalism inherent in the country, that was finally making its presence felt? It seems like a terribly fine point to debate over, but the point was made (even if there was no consensus on what the election ultimately meant).

As I heard the chuckles and guffaws around me that evening, I asked myself the same question. Of course, anyone who willingly went for the movie was open to being scandalized and laughed at. I couldn't help but feel, however, that maybe these popcorn munching, coke-sipping Californians around me were, somehow... not quite in on the joke.

Indeed, what is comic or funny? How does comedy work? I was asked these questions years ago, by my decidedly humourless Belgian French teacher, who was trying to deconstruct 'La Cage Aux Folles' (the Bird-Cage). She made the observation that comedy strives to push its audience's buttons, prodding us to laugh at ourselves, while ostensibly, laughing at something outside of ourselves.

Could this explain the hype generated in the US about 'Borat'? Was watching the movie some kind of cathartic experience for liberal, open-minded Americans, many of whom habitually claim to feel embarrassed (and even ashamed) of their citizenship? Or does 'Borat' operate on a sense of camaraderie, its audience distancing itself from identification with Borat's 'victims' just long enough to laugh and jeer at 'their' foolishness?

Perhaps the answer is a combination of all of these factors. Perhaps Americans are more liberal than we give them credit for. Perhaps we are all, American or not, implicated in some larger scheme of Cohen's.