If you have to explain a joke, it’s probably not funny. Ali G: Who Iz I is another one of Sacha Baron Cohen’s satirical prank narratives, but it repeatedly tells you who is in on the joke before, during, and after the film. After enduring two Borat movies, most audiences should understand Cohen’s comedy methods, but maybe he’s lost faith in the audience. The disclaimer is unnecessary, however, as you can easily tell who is playing a character. The actors all play up their roles with energy, while the unsuspecting targets are either tired or passive in the absurd scenario.

Cohen reprises Ali G as more of a has-been who hasn’t been relevent since his HBO series was canceled, and you quickly understand why. His satirical character of a white suburbanite obsessed with rap culture doesn’t exactly have much to offer with his gags about gaudy bling and oversized jackets. As Ali G tries and fails to adapt to the world of viral fame and get a laugh, his story becomes needlessly overwritten just to fill space. With his girlfriend Julie (Morgana Robinson) now pregnant, Ali struggles to secure a lucrative gig as an influencer. At the same time, he’s targeted by Doctor Nira Cain-N’Degeocello (also Cohen), a stumbling progressive who views Ali G as a cultural appropriator, aiming to prove he is not black (as the character has claimed many times). Also targeting Ali G is Erran Morad (again Cohen), a defense teacher recruiting ICE members and believing that Ali G is a drug lord who needs to be taken down.

Those two previous characters were dusted off from Cohen’s Showtime series Who Is America?, and they do pretty much the exact same bits as on the show. Nira appears before black people and speaks absurdly about black culture, but his African-American audience is more annoyed than aggravated with his failed attempts to appear progressive. Morad again convinces some gullible conservatives to pull their pants down for a vulgar display of self-defense, but we’ve seen this before, and today’s willing ICE agents have such a huge lack of shame that it didn’t surprise me how easy this was to coordinate. Cohen was easily able to convince them to masturbate a fake penis in order to fire a bullet out of their butts. When he pulled off a similar stunt with Georgia’s Republican state representative, Jason Spencer, it was so shocking that Spencer was forced to resign. Now it just feels too standard, coming off more depressing than amusing, where likely nobody will be all that shocked by this behavior and none of these conservatives will feel humiliated.

This was a severe problem I had with Cohen’s previous Borat film, despite its bursts of hilarity and the shock it garnered from the exposing footage of Rudy Gulianni touching himself around a woman. How relevent is Cohen’s comedy in a world where shameless Republicans don’t care how bad they look and spout their grotesque views without filters? Characters like Borat could expose the hidden bigotry, but it’s naked and out in the open now. No prank is required, and that ease of access leads to desperation in the comedy to be more over-the-top and raunchy, to the point where Cohen’s characters engage with anal sex with each other and projectile poop holds little shock among those getting sprayed. Even the few notable names acquired for interviews and pranks reveal nothing beyond what we’ve already grown accustomed to. Was I supposed to be shocked that George Santos went on a “free speech game show” to chuck fake immigrants in a gas chamber? He’s a pathetic conservative liar who has no shame in committing to such a segment. This is less a darkly comedic exposé and more an American freak show of people who may not be in on the joke, but will still bite the heads off chickens without much coaxing or doubt.

But the biggest issue is that Ali G is such a limited character. With his limited insight into culture and vocabulary, he was built more to annoy during interviews than to expose; his funniest interaction involved upsetting Andy Rooney with little effort. He’s nowhere near as versatile as Borat, which makes it hard to shove Ali G into absurd situations, and it’s why his first movie, Ali G Indahouse, was more of a fictional narrative than an elaborate sketch. Creating a narrative around real interactions that required body doubles to pull off multiple characters in the same scene made me wish the film had favored a full story instead of lacing one over a series of unfunny interviews and lukewarm reactions. One segment even acknowledges that one of Cohen’s characters in the scene is actually a body double. Yes, we know. We all know. And it’s not funny.

There is so much wrong with Ali G: Who Iz I, but chief among them is that it’s not funny. For a film that acknowledges Ali G’s HBO show, American politics, and social media, it’s weirdly disengaged from its mockery of culture. There might’ve been some funny jokes in revealing how out of the loop Ali G has become with youthful culture, but he never engages with that audience. Instead, he picks the same aged targets too dim to know they’re in a mockumentary and too far gone to care. The one scene I’ll never forget is when Ali G showcases an AI-generated apology video to a crowd. The video, composed of living and dead celebrities, sings about how Ali G is the best and on the same level as Jesus Christ. The people watching this offensive display leave. They don’t wince in disgust, scoff loudly, or offer any comment as they make their exit. They just silently leave, disappointed in what they watched. I can empathize with that.