Though he had a cult following when “Borat” was released in 2006, Sacha Baron Cohen exploded in the media with that film, because it was the first time that many people had heard of the brilliant British comedian.

The film itself was a hilariously tasteless chronicle of the American adventures of a fictitious journalist from Kazakhstan. Baron Cohen’s genius lay in his ability to stage encounters that seem real to the people he meets, playing a character with a straight face in real time, fooling those he encounters into being themselves while still coming up with wildly outrageous, spur-of-the-moment dialogue.

So can “Bruno,” Baron Cohen’s newest effort, live up to expectations that “Borat” created? Of course not – Baron Cohen has forfeited the element of surprise. The audience won’t have the same sense of discovery, of being shocked into laughter by the unexpected audacity of his vision. He’s expected to be audacious.

But never fear – “Bruno” is still a movie that will make you laugh so hard you’ll gasp for breath. The formula is familiar – indeed, the set-up is almost identical – but Baron Cohen still finds ways to shock you into guffaws, over and over.

Borat came to the U.S. to discover America. Bruno comes to America so it can discover him. A TV fashion reporter from Austria, he leaves his country in disgrace after being fired for a wild mishap at a Milan fashion show, involving a Velcro suit.

So Bruno hops a plane to Los Angeles, vowing to become a star in Hollywood. The fact that he is flamboyantly, flamingly gay seems to figure in every calculation – because he’s obsessed with the subject, as well as being utterly convinced of his own indisputable fabulousness. 

He finds an agent – and then calls him while having his nether regions bleached. When Bruno decides he wants to make a pilot for a celebrity interview show, the tape he shows to a focus group runs short of actual celebrity footage – so he inserts a couple of lengthy shots of him swinging his penis like a lariat (and hands-free, at that) to throbbing techno music. Needless to say, he clears the room.

At one point, he decides that fame can be acquired by releasing a celebrity sex tape – if he can find a celebrity to have sex with him. His choice: former presidential candidate Ron Paul of Texas, who bolts like a gazelle when he figures out that Bruno is, in fact, hitting on him.

Bruno is also wildly dim-witted and superficial, blind to social and ethnic niceties. So for his celebrity interview show, when he discovers that the house he’s rented to tape interviews is unfurnished, he drafts the Hispanic lawn crew to serve as furniture, on their hands and knees. And his celebrity guests – Paula Abdul and LaToya Jackson (whose segment was cut after brother Michael’s death) – don’t think twice about sitting on them. Abdul draws the line at eating sushi off a human platter; LaToya had no such hang-up.

Bruno’s adventures take him to Texas, where he appears on a talk show about unusual parenting (with a black baby he allegedly acquired in Africa by swapping a limited edition iPod). Eventually, he decides that homosexuality may actually be holding him back – and that if he is to become a star, he has to emulate Hollywood’s most popular heterosexual leading men: Tom Cruise, John Travolta, Kevin Spacey.

So he subjects himself to a minister who promises to convert him from homosexuality. He also immerses himself in such macho pursuits as Army boot camp and a hunting trip with a trio of good ol’ boys. Let’s just say it’s not an easy transition for this gay caballero.

Directed by Larry Charles (who also directed “Borat” and Bill Maher’s “Religulous”), “Bruno” is noteworthy for its sheer ballsiness. Baron Cohen is virtually fearless about putting himself in dangerous situations and squeezing comedy out of them: At one point, he goes to Israel to broker a peace between Israelis and Palestinians – but confuses Hamas with hummus. At another point, he goes swishing through a Hasidic area of Jerusalem dressed in midriff-baring version of traditional garb (complete with hot pants) – and gets chased by an angry mob of Hasids. And that’s not to mention that hunting trip with the guys with guns (“Have you ever noticed how much we’re like the ‘Sex and the City’ girls?” he says as they sit around a campfire).

On the other hand, there’s less coherence to this outing than “Borat,” less of an attempt to disguise the fact that, in essence, Charles and Baron Cohen are cobbling together a series of set pieces. In that regard, “Bruno” plays less like a movie than an extended “Candid Camera” sequence, except that the subjects know the camera is there – they just don’t understand why.

It’s no secret that homophobia is still common, even acceptable in some communities. Most people, however, would never admit their prejudice publicly – would, in fact, go out of their way to disguise it. Baron Cohen knows how to push buttons, getting those people to reveal themselves in ways they otherwise wouldn’t.

Is that a revelation? Probably not. “Bruno” isn’t an expose, just a wonderfully squirmy and edgy piece of performance comedy, starring an actor who knows how to make it up as he goes along.

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