Juno

Nuyhij's Response
Juno takes place in an alternate universe where teenagers are loquacious, witty, and well-spoken; where function follows form (as in the case of an almost useless land line phone shaped like a hamburger); and where artifice reins supreme. No, this world is not the product of Huysmans but rather of screenwriter Diablo Cody. The tragically hip and verbose teenagers call more to mind Dawson's Creek and its unfailingly articulate—though not always grammatically correct—young adults than the hesitant, faltering, yet remarkably pathos-driven speech of the high schoolers in My So-Called Life. I find it hard to believe that any teenager can be as self-possessed and composed as the ones in this film.

But Juno is not without its charms. Indeed, if one gets past all the unnatural idiosyncratic speech and the very, very long indie soundtrack (there seems to be a new song every two minutes), there is a very touching story. Ellen Page plays the titular character, who is named after Jupiter's wife and sister (Hera for all you Graecophiles), and we watch as her neat but quirky world suddenly becomes complicated with an unplanned pregnancy. Juno can't get herself to get an abortion, although she makes it as far as the waiting room of the abortion clinic, and she decides to give up her child for adoption instead. This puts her into orbit with the adoptive couple the Lorings: Mark (Jason Bateman), a man who acts more Juno's age than a prospective father, and Vanessa (Jennifer Garner), a woman who believes she was put on this earth to be a mother. Juno immediately strikes up a friendship with Mark based on their common interests in music and movies, while she remains wary of Vanessa, who does not seem to quite trust Juno either. However, the appearance of Juno in their lives seems to awaken an inner yearning in Mark, who hasn't quite gotten used to the idea of being a parent, and Juno helplessly watches the Loring marriage fall apart.

Juno's self-assurance and independence is now tinged with vulnerability. After witnessing the dissolution of the marriage, Juno drives away, wracked with doubt about adulthood and the nature of love. The most affecting scene in the movie shows the hugely pregnant Juno pull over the side of the road and cry. This is not as eloquent as any of her earlier verbal quips, but it is authentic and genuine. And I think it is more effective precisely because the earlier Juno was so sure of herself. She wrapped herself in her own artifice; her witticisms and detached observations provided armor against being hurt. It is after this cathartic moment that Juno is able to really put herself out into the world. She professes her love to Paulie, her best friend and the father of her child (Michael Cera, who pretty much reprises the same confused awkward persona that he's brought to almost every single role since Arrested Development), and they literally make sweet music together at the end of the film.

We don't know what the future will hold for Juno, but we can be certain that there will be bumps along the way. However, we know that she is fully prepared and that she is strong and will manage somehow. She knows that the world can cause pain, but she also knows that it can provide great joy for those willing to get hurt once in while. Juno is in essence a bildungsroman, a coming-of-age tale of a young woman forced into adulthood and all its murky confusion and splendors.