Flamboyant Austrian fashion journalist Brüno (Sacha Baron Cohen, left) and celebrity blogger Mario Armando Lavandeira, a.k.a. Perez Hilton, are examples of gay figures currently in the spotlight. (left: Warner Bros. Pictures. right: MJ Kim/Getty Images)

And so it came to pass that on that day, the 31^st of May, at the MTV Video Music Awards, the angel Bruno descended from on high into the lap of rapper Eminem, who left the premises in disgust. Bruno, a flamboyant fashion reporter played by British provocateur Sacha Baron Cohen, came bearing gaudy wings, an ample package and a message. And lo, that message was… what, exactly? That Eminem is a homophobe? (Well, not really, since he was in on the joke.) That straight guys don’t enjoy having another dude’s junk thrust in their face? (Does anyone like having a stranger’s junk thrust in his or her face?) That Sacha Baron Cohen is willing to go to any lengths for comedic effect? Well, we know that much is true.

Brüno evokes the queeny boogeyman that haunts homophobes. But he may also reinforce that sense of gay panic.

And that’s the conundrum at the heart of Bruno, Baron Cohen’s latest cinematic satire. As the host of the fictional Funkyzeit — “the most important TV fashion show in any German-speaking country… except Germany” — Bruno is a grotesque exaggeration of homosexual stereotypes: he is mincing, superficial, frequently unclothed and enjoys rubbing his, er, desires in the faces of strangers. Just as Borat was meant to lampoon anti-Semitism and the crass “foreigner” as imagined by American xenophobes, Bruno seems engineered to reveal the queeny boogeyman that haunts homophobes. Trouble is, he may also reinforce that sense of gay panic.

2009 has been a strange year for gay visibility – not least because one of the year’s most homophobic comments came from the mouth of a self-proclaimed queer activist, namely, gossip blogger Perez Hilton. Hilton often portrays himself as a martyr, but he made his name by talking smack about famous people and defacing tabloid photographs of them with scribbles meant to resemble cocaine residue. During the MuchMusic Video Awards in June, Hilton was confronted by Will.i.am of the Black Eyed Peas, who ordered him to cease his hostile internet musings about the band. This led Hilton to exclaim, “I don’t need to respect you, and you’re a fag. You’re gay and stop being such a faggot.” (The band’s manager allegedly ended up slugging him.)

Afterward, Hilton gleefully claimed that he called Will.i.am a “faggot” because he felt it was “the worst possible thing that thug would ever want to hear” – which only shows how much weight the slur still carries. Even if queer activists have reclaimed the term, it’s not okay for a gay man to use the word to incite hatred. Indeed, Hilton’s insinuation that he was the victim of an anti-gay attack is one of the most damaging instances of gay visibility in recent memory.

Singer Adam Lambert played coy about his sexuality until after the finale of this season's American Idol competition. (Valerie Macon/Getty Images)

For years, politically radical factions of the lesbian, gay, bisexual, transsexual and queer community (LGBTQ, for short) have insisted that issues like same-sex marriage are merely red herrings in the struggle for queer liberation. They claim that by fighting for values like gay marriage that encourage assimilation, we are ignoring more complex problems, like the institutional resistance – or worse, the physical bashing – experienced by people whose gender identity doesn’t conform to what is considered “normal.” Regrettably, the upholding of California’s Proposition 8 – which restricted the legal definition of marriage to the union between a man and a woman – shows that many Americans still believe that LGBTQ individuals should be denied even the most normative, family values-oriented rights and freedoms.

It is vital and important to challenge conventional perceptions of “proper” gender and sexuality in our society. In this context, I suppose the ascent of Adam Lambert, the bedazzling glam-rock god who sang and swiveled his hips to a second-place finish on American Idol this year, should feel like a landmark moment. Some insist he’s striking down barriers for openly gay artists, and that’s true — to a point. But by refusing to answer questions about his sexual orientation during the competition, only to come out on a Rolling Stone cover after the votes were in, Lambert turned his queerness into a tawdry marketing gimmick.

Despite what Perez Hilton might think, LGBTQ people, no matter how famous, have no obligation to come out of the closet. And Lambert has done more good than harm when it comes to queer visibility. But the fact that he chose to hold out for a profile-boosting magazine reveal seems rooted in the same attention-seeking impulse Baron Cohen sends up in Bruno.

In a culture that loves over-the-top spectacle, it’s the quiet statements that often have the most significant impact. Sean Penn’s understated grace in the lead role in Milk — and the strong performances of supporting actors like James Franco — put a human face on the struggle for LGBTQ rights. Earlier this year, writer/actor Mike White (School of Rock) teamed up with his dad to compete on the reality show The Amazing Race. White is openly bisexual, and his 69-year-old father is a gay clergyman who came out at age 54, but the most amazing thing about their tenure on the Race is that their sexuality was a non-issue.

British actor Sacha Baron Cohen, dressed in character, attends the Dutch premiere of his film Brüno in the red light district of Amsterdam. (Robin van Lonkhuijsen/United Photos/Reuters)

What we need in popular culture is a range of representations of queer individuals, a reflection of the diversity of the community as it exists in reality. Certainly, there’s a place for Baron Cohen’s in-your-face approach within this spectrum, but I suspect Bruno’s fascination with raunchy, object-enhanced backdoor sex will stampede over more low-key cinematic portrayals of LGBTQ characters — at least this summer. (One curious aspect of the film is the lack of actual queer people in it. Why couldn’t Baron Cohen, who is straight, have unleashed the beast that is Bruno in a gay club to see how the character is received by a jury of his “peers”?)

Bruno's targets are many; the film skewers the vapid world of fashion, international adoption, philanthropy as image control, prudishness, Paula Abdul, carb-restricted diets, celebrity culture and, indeed, the worst and most superficial aspects of gay male culture. And even in the relentless barrage of jokes about anal bleaching and dildos, Baron Cohen occasionally stumbles onto revealing truths. At one point, the fame-hungry Bruno organizes an ultimate fighting event called Straight Dave’s Man Slammin’ Max Out, but when he passionately kisses his male opponent, the crowd erupts with chilling violence.

Indeed, at its heart, Bruno reduces queer sexuality to a spectator sport, hitting the same crass buttons you’d find in any mainstream frat-boy comedy. The difference is that here, the gay-fearing bigots are intended to be the, er, butt of the joke. I’m just not sure they’re going to walk away from Bruno with that impression.

Sarah Liss writes about the arts for CBCNews.ca.