If Sacha Baron Cohen is able to say so much about America through gonzo, unscripted moments of hilarity in his "Borat" movie — and he does — just think of the depth he'd add if he actually talked.

Unfortunately, he doesn't.

To an unprecedented and disappointing degree, Cohen has hidden behind his character in promoting the movie. He showed up at screenings and the Hollywood premiere in character, asked print reporters to submit questions to Borat via e-mail, even went so far as to read from a TelePrompTer at his TV press junket "interviews."

Cohen's perspective seems to be that quality comedy doesn't need an explanation; art speaks for itself. This is true. But his control-freak effort to sell "Borat" as Borat is wearisome and, it appears, financially unwise.

THREATENED BY SANTA CLAUSE

The movie's opening was scaled back recently from 2,000 to 800 screens after surveys showed, essentially, that a chunk of the potential audience doesn't get it. They can't be bothered to tune in to this odd-looking fellow (on Letterman, CNN or elsewhere) long enough to figure out where his schtick is going. Much less drop $10 at a theater for more of it.

Despite all the buzz on college campuses and in the media, Tim Allen's third "Santa Clause" movie is expected to easily beat "Borat" at the box office this weekend.

HE'S MAKING FUN OF US

Which is a shame, because Cohen's film is brilliant. His Kazakhstani reporter character exposes Americans' racism, anti-Semitism and sexism in a series of silly yet jaw-dropping encounters as he treks across the country. This 35-year-old Jew from Britain is making fun of us, not any central Asian country.

His sharpest bits blend humor and social commentary: When Cohen enters a gun store and asks for the best firearm to kill a Jew, you laugh at the question. When the salesman responds without missing a beat, "I'd recommend a 9 mm or a Glock automatic," you start shaking your head.

At a Virginia rodeo, he praises America's "war of terror" and says he hopes President Bush drinks the blood of every man, woman and child in Iraq.

It's a scathing critique. But interestingly, Cohen's approach to the press — to the general public -- seems ripped right out of Bush's playbook: Stay on message, stay in character and don't suffer fools who try to push outside your script.

THE COST OF ACCESS

In the process of selling a movie that exposes our redneck prejudices and intellectualized cultural relativism, he's (unwittingly, perhaps) shed light on yet another rube: the entertainment reporters who play along, who trade in their journalism credentials for access, in this case to the hottest comedian in the industry.

Reporters are delighted to get in on Cohen's big joke, to be a part of the Borat phenomenon. Entertainment Weekly happily published an extended Q&A with Borat on its Web site (first question: "Are your friends and family treating you differently now that you're a big Hollywood movie star?").

In a one-on-one interview, a female CNN reporter joked about being sent back to her cage. Reporters asked three separate questions about Borat's mustache at an Amsterdam press conference.

Sure, Cohen isn't the president; real answers to real questions aren't going to change the world. It's not like entertainment journalism delivers groundbreaking reportage on a regular basis anyway; many stories blend promotion with just a dash of insight into the creative process.

But the subservience displayed by the media in the case of "Borat" is disheartening, and has robbed Cohen of a chance to talk honestly and clearly about the powerful message his comedy delivers. It's robbed us of a deeper look at Cohen's motivations, his own no doubt fascinating perspective on our culture.

THE ELUSIVE COHEN

I requested an interview with Cohen last year when I found out the "Borat" movie was filming. His publicist told me he'd speak with the media only when he had a movie to promote. When that time came around, the publicist and studio said we could only speak with Borat, not Cohen, and requested that all questions be submitted in advance and I balked: That's like asking a quarterback to hand in his play sequence to the other team in advance and that makes for one boring game. The interview never happened.

Mike Cidoni, an entertainment producer and reporter for AP Television News, submitted his questions for a junket interview a full month in advance. When he sat down with Cohen, the actor's eyes kept wandering. He was reading scripted answers from a TelePrompTer to Cidoni's left.

"I thought, 'Why am I even here?'" Cidoni said. "The only other time that happened was with 2-D characters" — silly Q&A's with animated "Rocky and Bullwinkle" or "South Park" characters.

"It's this strange dichotomy," Cidoni says, in which an actor who thrives on prompting unscripted moments and surprise reactions from others seems afraid, or at least unwilling, to go without a script or even simply to be himself.

The result is not even very funny, as Cohen tiredly rehashes his jokes without the spark of unsuspecting interaction that juices "Borat."

MARRIED TO THE MASK

The in-character interview is a relatively new phenomenon. Will Ferrell and John C. Reilly spoke to reporters as Ricky Bobby and Cal, respectively, to promote "Talladega Nights." Stephen Colbert flips the roles nightly on "The Colbert Report" — the interviewer is the character — but he's at least thoughtfully explained the meaning behind his schtick in a "60 Minutes" interview.

As for Borat, Time magazine praises Cohen's ability to remain in character, which he reportedly did throughout filming, as "an impressive, perhaps insane, performance."

It certainly takes guts. The most courageous move now, though, would be to let down the mask, toss out the bad suit, drop the accent. Stop promoting, start explaining to those who don't "get it" — and perhaps educating. Be real.

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asap staff reporter Ryan Pearson is still waiting for an interview with Cohen.

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