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Juno (Jason Reitman, 2007)
That Jason Reitman’s sassy, ludicrous teen-pregnancy sitcom
Juno has been heralded for its
realistic portrayal of a teen girl’s point of view demonstrates how poorly the
demographic has been represented on screen. The titular character, embodied with
no surfeit of spunk by young actress Ellen Page, exudes an otherworldly level of
self-sufficiency and glib wit. What little “indie” sensibility this film has
comes from its usual point of view toward its main character. Taking what should
be, by classical Hollywood standards, an underdog, and then launching her into
an offensive against any would-be detractors from frame one, the movie is
aggressive in its promotion of the outré. What is curious, then, is the way that
screenwriter Diablo Cody’s too-hip script surrounds her spunky little heroine
with a supporting cast of entirely supportive individuals. No one gives
Juno much more than minor trouble for
her major digression. Disappointment, at best, manifests itself in-between
one-liners. The effect of this virtual love-in is disorienting. There’s little
drama present in this inherently dramatic situation. The stench of
self-satisfaction, and worse yet sycophancy, begins to hang in the air. At times
presenting itself as a chronicle of a young girl’s efforts to search deep within
herself, Juno really only wants to
congratulate us for being open-minded enough to love it.
The film finds few crowd-pleasing buttons it can resist pressing. Everyone in
the unflappable Juno’s path is reduced to the butt of a cheap wisecrack, and
little effort is made to explain that she might be wrong in her assessment.
She’s shown namechecking “cool” bands and underground movies in an effort to
show how edgy and different she is (a tendency that the irritating indie-pop
soundtrack is all too happy to mirror). Perhaps most shamelessly of all,
Juno finally rejects its too-cool
posturing to indulge itself in weepy reconciliations. It preaches empathy, but
on its bewildering own terms. In the last scenes of
Juno, it doesn’t feel as if a snarky
defense mechanism has come crashing down, but rather that one brand of phoniness
has been supplanted by another. One can’t rightfully accuse the filmmakers of
betraying the cast, but they have swapped condescension toward the characters
for condescension toward the audience, which is arguably a more egregious
cinematic sin.
33
Jeremy Heilman
01.06.08
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