While The Dictator fulfills its quotient of scatological, sexist, racist and all consuming offensive humor (yet again, Cohen gives his genitals screen time), there's little bite or sting, for the shots seem cheaper and thornier than ever before. We first meet Aladeen enjoying his stupidly rich existence, extolling the pleasures of his nuclear program. He joyfully orders insubordinates executed and engages in one of favorite hobbies of bedding famous celebrates and chronicling them on a Polaroid Wall of Fame (Megan Fox makes a game cameo), but really, deep down, behind all the war crimes he's most proud, Aladeen wants someone to hold. That's the best plot description for the insipid sight gags that make up the majority of The Dictator, which grow tiring before the first reel. Legitimate thespians (like Ben Kingsley, John C. Rielly and Anna Faris) make up a supporting cast, most of whom floundered by the scripted shapelessness of the film.
After arriving in New York to abhor his dictatorial triumphs, Aladeen is back stabbed by his duplicitous older brother (Kingsley) and mistaken for a Wadiyan dissident by a feminist tree- huger (Faris), who the rape-loving Aladeen begins to have, shudder, feelings for. All of which makes for a strange bedfellow of genres: political parody meets fish out of water romantic comedy; neither of which are particularly inspired. Even more so is the treacly climax which proves that even international war criminals can be redeemed by the love of a good woman. C-
