[Note: This review contains spoilers, not so much of plot points, as there aren’t many, but of specific jokes in the film.]

All of the Brüno reviews I’ve read — whether positive or negative — have focused on how the film works as satire. Some praise Sacha Baron Cohen and director Larry Charles for dissecting the American obsession with fame and exploring homophobia while others suggest the film’s targets are far too simple for its message to be complex.

What I haven’t seen is any reviewer tackle the central question I believe this film asks of its audience: Is this funny? While I appreciate that Brüno and Borat make some points about society, they are first and foremost comedies. And I hate to lose sight of that in the quest for some deeper message. Because while Brüno might fail to change the world, it definitely won’t fail to make you laugh.

Fans of Da Ali G Show know what Baron Cohen is up to here… dropping outrageous characters into everyday situations to draw amusing reactions from celebrities and regular folks alike. It’s a combination of Candid Camera and Punk’d, really. The wild card is Baron Cohen himself, a genius-level comic performer who inhabits his characters with a method actor’s focus.

That sort of thing works splendidly on a sketch show, and a little less splendidly at feature length. But Baron Cohen has built enough of a framework on which to hang his set pieces that things mostly hold together. And again, I must point out that when you’re laughing your ass off little else matters.

And you will laugh your ass off at Brüno.

The first line that really got me was Brüno’s indignant reaction to being blacklisted by the European fashion community: “For the second time in a century, the world had turned on Austria’s greatest man, just because he had the bravery to try something new.” If you can’t laugh at a Hitler joke, what can you laugh at?

How about the moment where the very-gay Brüno realizes that the key to celebrity is being straight, like American superstars Tom Cruise, John Travolta and Kevin Spacey. Or the sight of Paula Abdul sitting down for an interview on the back of a Mexican laborer because the house is unfurnished (she discusses her humanitarian work while reaching for a glass of water on the back of another man serving as a table).

Or the scene where, nearly naked and chained to his assistant, with the TV remote control wedged between his ass cheeks, Brüno complains to a hotel manager that he did not intend to press the button ordering “Mr. Magorium’s Wunderbar Emporium.” I’m quite certain we shouldn’t be debating the level of satirical sophistication there.

To be fair, some scenes do invite deeper thought about the state of American society. While planning a photo shoot for his adopted baby, Brüno interviews other parents about what they’ll allow their own children to do in order to be included. The results are horrifying, as mothers and fathers agree to have their infants shed weight, work around hazardous chemicals and be depicted pushing a Jewish baby into an oven so long as it means getting the job. And the much-discussed Ultimate Fighting cage match that Brüno turns into a man-on-man lovefest in front of a horrified (and horrfying) crowd is a disturbing look at… well, the sort of people who attend Ultimate Fighting cage matches.

Brüno himself is such an outlandish and offensive creation that sometimes you kind of feel sorry for the people in whose path he is dropped. A karate instructor asked to demonstrate the best way to fend off a homosexual attack is just doing his job. So are the swingers at a party Brüno infiltrates. And a group of Alabama hunters are more than accommodating right up until Brüno shows up naked in one of their tents (and I can understand them freaking out at that point).

On the other hand, a talk show audience of mostly African Americans are well within their rights to scream obscenities at him for mistreating his black baby, but they first turn ugly on him well before that, when he says he’s looking for “Mr. Right.” That openly callous display of homophobia makes you wish on them whatever Baron Cohen has coming.

Brüno, like Borat, is not for everyone. If you’re uncomfortable watching this sort of ambush comedy, stay away. If you’re uncomfortable with gay sexual themes, stay far away. But if you want to laugh, go see Brüno and promise yourself not to over think it.