Let me start off this review of the movie "Juno" by stating up front that I am not this movie's targeted demographic.
When Cody Diablo, the screenwriter, first set finger to keyboard she did not set out to entertain a horror-movie loving, 260 pound trucker. I accept that. Yet I'm not immune to the charms of movies outside the supernatural/dystopian future/apocalyptic survivalist genres that I search out for on Netflix or the movie theater listings. I found The Notebook to be a very well crafted romance, even though I am neither a carpenter nor James Garner. I still remember Fresh Horses, the last of the McCarthy-Ringwald romance flicks, with some fondness, though I am neither a feisty redhead trailer-trash chick nor an emaciated yuppy. Therefore, I was open to Juno, even though I have neither a vagina nor life-altering choice about whether to keep my upcoming newborn child or put him/her up for adoption. Yet here I am. $30 poorer and with an ethereal anvil of guilt to hold over my wife's head for making me sit through what was, in essence, a poorly done film aimed at the Hannah Montana crowd.
Juno bills itself as an Indy flick that smartly and with humor examines the issues surrounding teen pregnancy. It is not smart. It is not humorous. It is as relevant to teen pregnancy as the Transformers Movie is relevant to the modern state of robotic development and research. It is, in short, a sham. A dud. A flimsy and concocted celluloid potion designed to part ten to thirteen year old girls and effete movie critics with their Hamilton entrance fees.
The main gist of the plot is that Ellen Page, a smart-mouthed, witty, insightful yet rebellious teenage girl, gets pregnant by her boyfriend, that dude who was in "Superbad" and looks like Steve Burns. The rest of the movie is spent as Page tries to ride out her pregnancy so she can give up her child to a troubled couple played by Jason Bateman and (I think) the chick Ben Affleck married. (Side note: whatever happened to Jason Bateman's sister, the brunette on "Family Ties"? She was hot.) [Ed's note: she was on Arrested Development with him once. As a hooker. *shudder*]
As Page moves from scene to scene she dutifully encounters a host of allies and enemies, just sitting there smoking cigarettes while waiting for her to deliver her appropriate verbal kudos or insults. The entire cast are just straight men to Page's channeling of a smarter, younger Janeane Garofalo before she became an anemic left-wing loony (Yes, at one time J.G. was an attractive and topical comedian; anyone remember "The Ben Stiller Show"?). This really limits and reduces the entire troupe to one-dimensional mannequins to the point where one wonders why the producers didn't fill in the blanks around Page with unknowns and save some money. Certainly Superbad dude exhibits no emotion or personality throughout the soul-sucking length of the film. He seems to put as much thought into his upcoming state of fatherhood as whether he should eat blueberry or strawberry pop tarts for breakfast. Juno's father, played by Schillinger from the prison series "Oz", doesn't exhibit any outrage or concern when told of Juno's pregnancy. If anything he exhibits a laissez-faire calmness more appropriate to being told that his daughter scored a 'C' on a math test. Juno's stepmother (who we're oddly enough told loves dogs to the point of obsession, then is not seen with a dog for the majority of the film), with whom Juno has an antagonistic relationship, suddenly becomes her main advocate. It's all about as realistic and believable as the Cruise/Holmes "marriage" or the first-ever syndicated TV show "Small Wonder", only here the robotic acting isn't as convincing.
Jason Bateman and Elektra aren't any better as the upscale couple adopting Juno's baby. Bateman seems to be in a daze, probably wondering how he went from doing smart comedy to starring in a teeny-bopper film, while Elektra Affleck is as refreshing as a Tabasco enema in her role as a driven type 'A' personality to her "Silver Spoons" second banana husband's laid-back musician's paper-thin persona. Bateman eventually decides to leave Elektra because "he's not ready to be a father", yet oddly enough wants the pregnant Juno for an implied romantic partner (despite the fact that he's in his late 30's and she's 16. I guess her devilish wit and counter-culture-coolness overcomes his desire to not engage in statutory rape).
At the end of the movie Juno and Steve Burn's chameleon-boy do finally acknowledge the life and psyche-altering experience of creating life only to give it up by cuddling on the bed and crying for a good 10 seconds of screen time. Kudos, guess they learned their lesson. The film closes with them 'rocking out' on guitars, the baby they gave away just a fading memory. All is well in their Universe, a Universe where the concepts of emotional trauma and stretch marks dissipate like morning dew on a Summer morn.
I would be remiss not to mention the incredibly fucking annoying soundtrack which, I'm guessing, was created by holding an Indigo Girls sound-alike contest at some rural strip mall. I dare you to listen to the entire soundtrack in one setting and not want to smash something with a hammer, starting with your ears.
Before I close out, I should be fair and talk about the one bright spot during the 4 or 12 hours this film dragged on in the theater. While taking a piss I had a pleasant conversation with a retarded black kid who was cleaning an overflowed urinal. I didn't catch his name, but he was a nice enough guy. I hung out with him a good twenty minutes, discussing sports (The Saints sucked this year), politics (he can't vote, but I can so I espoused my political views for his betterment), the state of movie-theater urinal cleaners (not good, not bad. It's a job). The entire experience would have made a much better movie than Juno. Sort of a Harold & Maude-meets-Waiting for Godot-meets-The Green Mile. My part could be played by Johnny Depp, the urinal cleaner by Morgan Freeman. While waiting for my wife (played by that super hot young chick on "Big Love") to finish watching Juno, Depp and Freeman discover a common bond despite their racial and economic differences. Then Ninja Zombies invade the theater. Morgan, it turns out, has prepared for such an eventuality over the years by stashing away lots and lots of guns in a secret room. After dispatching the evil zombies, Depp makes love to his uber sexy wife while Morgan watches and masturbates, narrating each thrust and moan with a rich, somber voice-over.
Listen up, Hollywood, THAT'S entertainment!
