I don't get it. Is the entire country on something or have we simply lost our ability to evaluate the difference between talent and effort? Juno is alright but it's completely derivative and offers characters who live in their own spheres and barely make emotional connections with themselves, let alone each other. For a start, why is Juno so frickin' sassy as the product of that mundane and sterile environment, where there don't appear to be any other kindred spirits in sight? That's not to say that it's impossible but give us a clue here. Writers sometimes call it backstory. Was it the mutant gene from the rebellious mother who abandoned her for a trailer park? Or is it something in the Sunny D? And why oh why was she attracted to Michael Cera, who has as much personality as a plank of wood? And why didn't his folks weigh in on their grandchild-to-be? And how much fake folksy music can one listen to in the space of two hours? Excuse me but a cute expression, a few lines of snarky dialogue, and someone plucking on a guitar do NOT a movie make. Give us motive. Give us first, second, and third act. Give us conflict but at least give us a damn movie where the hand of the writer/director isn't apparent as grafitti, all over the screen, in every shot.
The antidote? Go see the Diving Bell & the Butterfly and decide for yourself which of the two movies endures, and make sure you read the book.
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