As demonstrated in the recent weeks by the hype surrounding the tragic death of Michael Jackson, we have entered a new era of media exposure and, some would say, overkill. News of Jackson's death was first reported on non-traditional (some would argue non-credible) sources such as TMZ and social networks like Twitter. The live coverage of his memorial service drew bigger ratings than President Obama's inauguration. Two weeks ago Jackson was culturally irrelevant, a tabloid curiosity who drew more ridicule than respect. Now, once again, he is the King of Pop being lauded, rightly or wrongly, as the "greatest entertainer who ever lived" and his music is topping the charts. Such is the cult of personality fueled by the media in all its forms and the insatiable appetite of those who eat it up.

The culture of celebrity is the target of Bruno, a gut-busting satire that spares no sacred cow and, for better or worse, leaves nothing (and I mean nothing) to the imagination. Explicit and graphic in all his vulgar splendor, writer and star Sacha Baron Cohen once again pushes the envelope of decency much as he did in 2006 with Borat. It would be easy to dismiss this 85 minute tour-de-force as pure exploitation. But tThe Cambridge-educated Cohen is too intelligent to be guilty of that. Rigid moralists may find nothing redeeming or acceptable in Bruno and point to its very existence as proof, for the umpteenth time, that we are on the verge of Armageddon and the eve of destruction. The truth is, however, that this film has much to say about the bizarre world of celebrity and, whether we are liberal or conservative, we have all in one way or another contributed to the problem.

Bruno is the gay Austrian fashionista TV host of the show Funkyzeit Mit Bruno who, after an unfortunate Velcro accident at an upscale fashion show, is fired and jets off to find stardom in Hollywood. He finds the fashion world, in his words, "superficial and vacuous" and leaves it behind. Once stateside he encounters casting agents, B-list celebrities and gullible spirit mediums who, blinded by the hopes of prestige and stardom, seem oblivious to the outrageous antics of Bruno.

While it may seem implausible that anyone could be fooled by Cohen's post-Borat act, he still manages to get Paula Abdul, Congressman Ron Paul and talk-show host Richard Bay to fall for it. In his pursuit, he manages to cross paths with a group of rifle-wielding outdoorsmen, a Christian organization aimed at converting people out of the homosexual lifestyle, and a couple brain-dead PR bimbos who try to help Bruno find a humanitarian cause to latch on to. Whether its Dar-five (Clooney already has Darfur) or making peace-keeping missions to the Middle East to solve the problems between Israelis and Palestinians, Bruno earnestly seeks to make the world a better place... for his benefit, of course (and for that of his adopted African baby OJ—acquired in exchange for an iPod).

Cohen accomplishes all this in his trademark jaw-dropping style. Pushing NC-17 in its content, this film is certainly not for everyone so a blanket recommendation cannot be given. The bigger picture is to see the motive for the humor. After all, which is more disgusting? The in-your-face raunch of the bizarre antics of Bruno or the culture that it is mocking? These are the questions to be answered. Cohen accomplishes his goal of skewering the shallow world of pop culture celebrity-dom and he has a grand time doing it. The feeling is here that the audience will have an uber good time too—how can you not when witnessing Bruno singing a "We Are The World"-type anthem with the likes of Bono, Sting, Elton John, Chris Martin and Snoop Dogg? Which only proves Cohen's point: we are all guilty of embracing the cult of personality.