Juno: Stop the Madness

Though it will never, ever happen, the 9 most feared words in the human language right now are And the Academy Award for Best Picture Goes to Juno. And not because it is wrong, or it proves once and for all the Oscars are entirely irrelevant, or because having to read that off of a script without laughing breaks WGA code, but because of the horror, oh the horror, that will ensue once the studios realize not only does indie over-preciousness equal box-office gold, but it can be sweet gold statue-bait as well. And this means, oh yes, this means my friends, year-round, factory-assembled hipster garbage will be pumped out at the same rate of J-horror remakes and Tyler Perry films. Which is to say, we will be literally buried in twee. 

So why didn't I like Juno? It has a lot of things going for it, thats for sure. I love Michael Cera and Jason Bateman. I enjoy the movies of Judd Apatow, even though he had absolutely nothing to do with Juno. Oh, and I do love strippers, especially when they can turn the tables they occasionally stand on and go from being exploited to doing the exploiting (in this case, the commercialization of indie culture).

Cody Diablo, wondering whether to use MLA or Chicago-Style editing

Then what did put me off? Juno starts out with an indie-by-numbers approach to filmmaking. Main character has established, albeit superficial, quirk? Check. Title sequence done over a handmade looking animation sequence? Double check. Does the main song have a whimsical, earnest quality that evokes feelings of childhood and/or sounds like it could possibly be a song originally intended for children? Check and Mate.

All is forgiven for a movie like this, though, if a script has a good, natural flow and quality dialogue. Diablo's method of screenwriting appears to be coin as many catchphrases and deliver enough quips to satisfy an hour-and-a-half long prime-time sitcom. Its good to have clever dialogue in a movie, but having every other line work-in some sort of pop-culture reference ("honest to blog", which may become this blog's new header, is one that seems to gather the most hatred from critics) or witty retort can easily make once was an aspiring movie look like a bad episode of Gilmore Girls.

Although the tidal wave of cutesy, quippy lines of dialogue tend to annoy, the final weight that sank the SS Juno for me was the sappy and contrived placement of lightweight indie music within the film. Although the soundtrack stands alone pretty well for containing some great Belle and Sebastian and Belle and Sebastian-ish tracks, their forceful entry into the movie is almost laughably ludicrous. Its the equivalent to being repeatedly smashed over the head with a twee-pop hammer, and it has the same, disorienting and derailing effect.

And because of its success, it is only certain now that the dawn of Juno copy-cats is upon us now. Like moths to the light, Hollywood execs are scrambling to assemble the next adorably hip, Movie-Of-Our-Generation, and probably hoping an ex-Circe du Soleil acrobat will have written it so every single entertainment rag, newspaper, and blog will write about it. In fact, the dawn of this age seems to already have come upon us (although I don't think, unfortunately, this one was written by anyone from a french-clown background).

Did punch-up for No Country for Old Men

So if Juno does get the accolades it so-much-doesn't-deserve (there's a decent chance Diablo's rags-to-riches backstory may sway the Academy to give her best original screenplay), we have nothing to look forward to but jugs of Sunny D and orange tic-tacs in our horizons, ill-placed children's sing-a-longs, and the tendency to emphasize quirk over character-development in our horizons. So do us all a favor, and if you want to see the movie, and still don't trust me, watch it illegally on the internet. Then maybe there will only be 10 of these things tops this year.