On Friday night, I went to see “Bruno.” I laughed. (Hardest at the part where Bruno goes camping with a bunch of rednecks and, as they sit around the campfire, he asks them which “Sex and the City” character they are.) I cried. (When Bruno’s velcro suit caused chaos at a fashion show, and he’s shunned by the entire Austrian fashion community.) I squirmed uncomfortably in my seat. (When a mom agrees that her 4-year-old would have liposuction in order to land a modeling gig. And again when Bruno crashes a swinger’s party and is repeatedly whipped by a woman with nipple rings. Now that I think about it, at least 40% of the scenes in the movie were squirm-worthy.) But as I left the theater, one big question kept running through my mind—how does Sacha Baron Cohen get away with these stunts without getting sued a hundred times a day? Keep reading »
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