'Bruno' has high points, but falls short

Lightning doesn't strike twice -- at least not in the vicinity of Sacha Baron Cohen, the brilliant English comedian who conquered the movie world with "Borat," his rude and uproarious 2006 hit.

In "Bruno," Baron Cohen plays a gay fashionista, devastated when his TV series is canceled in his native Austria. He comes to America hoping for his own talk show.

The test screening of this show's pilot, with an unsuspecting focus group, is a pretty funny sequence. It signals what is to come: "ambush comedy" and graphic sexual content.

Like "Borat," "Bruno" is made up of unscripted encounters between regular people and celebrities, most of whom are unaware that they are actually talking to Sacha Baron Cohen. With his "19-year-old" face and blond wig (not to mention short shorts), Bruno doesn't look a thing like Borat.

This is the comedy of mortification: Baron Cohen traps presidential candidate Ron Paul in a hotel room and comes on to him, mimes a sex act in front of a fortune teller and gets Paula Abdul to sit on the back of a kneeling Mexican laborer in lieu of furniture.

These scenes are woven into a scripted story, which is rarely as good as the candid-camera material. Early word on the film suggested that although Baron Cohen was presenting an outrageous gay stereotype, the purpose was to expose homophobia.

Well, yes and no. There's some of that: Bruno's hunting trip with a trio of tooth-challenged macho men, and his male-on-male groping inside a "cage match" before an enraged audience.

But the most, and best, arrows are directed at celebrity culture in general. There's one devastating, sick sequence in which Bruno asks parents -- who want their children to be in movies -- what the kids are willing to endure in order to land a role (including crucifixion on camera, and liposuction off). One stage mom agrees to all of it, if it means getting the part.

And there's a hilarious sequence in which Bruno goes on a Dallas TV talk show as a single parent to a young black child, whom he claims to have purchased in Africa in exchange for an iPod. This is aimed not just at the Madonnas and Angelinas of the world, but also at the tabloid talk shows (and, alas, cable news shows) that thrive on such material.

In that sense, it's almost a shame Baron Cohen cut a Michael Jackson joke from the release print during the past few days. The grotesquely overdone news coverage of the death of this talented and bizarre entertainer exemplifies the culture Baron Cohen is satirizing. (The editing is understandable, though: It would've killed the laughs in the theater.)

Despite its choice moments and savage satire, the plain truth is that too many scenes in "Bruno" fall short of expectations.

This movie needs fewer visits to swingers' parties and more interviews with conflicted men who believe they can cure homosexuality. That's comedy gold.