Love him or “not get” him, it’s safe to say that there will never be another comedic force like Borat. For several years, comedian Sacha Baron Cohen has traveled throughout England and the United States under the guise of fictitious Kazakh journalist Borat Sagdiyev on a quest for cultural discovery (and, ultimately, Pamela Anderson). His appearances on Da Ali G Show are some of the funniest, most poignant comedy pieces to grace television in years, brilliant satirical commentary mascarading as a simple-minded foreigner in a civilization he can’t begin to understand.

The popularity of the character has now culminated in “Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan,” a semi-fiction comedy that is often every bit as hilarious and revealing as Borat’s television appearances, although somewhat bogged down by the feature-length format. The humor of the film is pure genius, but, in attempting to frame a fictional narrative around brutal realism, the filmmakers sacrifice some of the authenticity that makes Borat so special in the first place.

The genre is a sort of guerilla comedy: Borat interviews real-life individuals who have no idea that he is really a comedian in disguise. Responses run the gamut from hilarious to shocking and everywhere in between, almost always too ridiculous to have been planned. The idea isn’t altogether original — many comedians have used unwitting subjects as their victims. But in addition to an unparalleled commitment to his character (he doesn’t shower or wash his suit before performing in order to smell the part, for instance), Cohen’s comedy is unique in its treatment of his subjects.

In the film, Borat travels across America in search of answers to his own country’s economic and social problems. He interviews everyone from feminist groups in New York to rodeo attendees in Texas, even approaching random passers-by on city streets. However, unlike Candid Camera-like environments, the oblivious participants are most often not the target of the humor. Rather, it is the social environment they represent: the beliefs, habits and traditions. But with Borat, the simple foreigner, the interviewees are often far too open about subjects they would normally hide. And it can be truly outrageous what Borat manages to get many of them to say.

The film is made up of two types of comedy: a childish Borat that says funny, unexpected things, and Borat that goads others to say funny, unexpected, yet horrific things. Over the course of his road trip, Borat purchases a pet bear, uncovers homophobia in unlikely places (hint: it’s not just in the conservative South), attempts to drink alcohol in the middle of a driver’s test, listens to a talk about why slavery should be reinstated and innocently asks feminists about women’s “smaller brains.”

These real-life interactions are consistently hilarious while, at the same time, revealing as no other method could just how real and persistent prejudice still is in America. I can’t emphasize enough just how effective Cohen’s tactics are, bringing a brutal clarity to American social consciousness. Sometimes, the bits almost go too far — the rant of a supposedly educated college student in the back of an RV, for instance, is so appallingly offensive that it will have audiences squirming rather than laughing. Perhaps that is what makes Borat so effective — the character’s naïve playfulness leaves the audience all the more vulnerable to the moments they’d rather not watch.

If I haven’t gone into much detail about the actual humor of Borat, it is because it is the kind that has to be seen to be appreciated, reliant more on the in-the-moment-ness of it all rather than Cohen’s immaculate character acting and preparation. To try to explain any of it would ruin it. Be assured, Borat is a very funny movie. If you find the TV show or movie trailer amusing, you’ll find the film hysterical. Some of the stuff in there is the funniest thing to hit the big screen in years.

Unfortunately, the film does have its faults, mostly when the impromptu reality bits end and the movie-ish parts begin. Alongside Cohen is actor Ken Davitian as Borat’s assistant/manager, Azamat, who does a good job yet detracts from Borat. Their relationship not only pulls the audience away from the smart satire but provides what is possibly one of the most shockingly offensive movie moments of the millennium, potentially funny until it moves too far into Jackass territory. A plot also arises with Borat on a search for Pamela Anderson, but it all leads up to a climax that doesn’t really satisfy.

Borat is at its best when the journalist is releasing chickens on subway cars and inviting prostitutes to formal dinners while exposing the inequities of our society. When the film sticks to the guerrilla comedy, it works just as well as anyone could ever hope. When narrative-time kicks in, everything slows. As a result, Borat is not a perfect film (and it probably couldn’t be given the medium), but it still stakes its claim as one of the funniest and most important comedies of our generation.