The Appreciator

This was supposed to be a blog entry about the Oscar nominations (and specifically how I was surprised to see Juno honored so prominently, how I wished that my film class wasn’t over so that we could discuss the Oscar nominations in light of our studies this semester, and how over the course of teaching this film class I’ve actually found myself looking forward to the awards).  I even have a draft of this saved from earlier in the week.

Then, a masseuse found Heath Ledger dead in New York.

So once again, I regret that my half year film class is over, because I’d like to pose the a question I’ve been pondering myself.

Let me explain my thought process first.  As a society (specifically, those with critical inclinations), we praise those who put every ounce of their being into their art.  Sure, art (and I use this in the broadest sense – painting, music, written word, performance, etc) resonates with us so profoundly because it lets us see how someone else interprets the world.  Toni Morrison calls this the “missionary quality” of art – that art is the medium by which artists communicate their personal thoughts, beliefs, and views of their world.

This becomes problematic when the art reflects a tortured view of the world.  We’ve romanticized the tortured artist who leaves a body of work that offers a glimpse into the inner struggles.  However, do we ignore these messages until the artist passes, choosing to actively acknowledge those artists that embrace the “human spirit” rather than those that portray the world as a dark, disturbed place?

As for Heath Ledger, there’s far too many questions left unanswered – was his death a suicide?  Were there other signs of illness?  All of this went through my mind this morning as I read a description that said how Ledger immersed himself in his role as the Joker in the upcoming Batman film The Dark Night.  The article suggests that Ledger slept two hours a night during filming due to the mental stress his role created.

At this point, it’s too soon to tell, but it seemed like Ledger’s turn as the Joker would become his signature role.  However, who knows if this role played a part in his demise.  Perhaps by connecting with the dark parts of his own soul (”method acting,” as my students know), Ledger opened up old wounds that he couldn’t heal.

Like I said, this is all speculation.  However, it has raised the question of whether total immersion in a role, in particular a role as dark as this one, can be a healthy thing.  If not, then what part do directors and producers play in ensuring that actors’ on-screen darkness stays on the screen and out of their personal lives?

I saw Juno a couple nights ago (I also saw Walk Hard and have loose plans to go see Charlie Wilson’s War, but I’ll write about those two movies another time) and I have to first apologize for the link that I provided in my last blog post. I read the beginning of the article and then stopped because I wanted to see the movie first. After going back and reading the whole thing, I noticed that the last several paragraphs (on the second page of the article) provide a couple fairly major spoilers that would have upset me. I won’t mention them but consider this your warning!

As for the movie, I thought it was well done. I understand the buzz behind Ellen Page’s performance; she gives Juno a biting wit and manages to make her pregnancy believable (one of my qualms going into the movie). However, I’m not sure I see an Oscar nomination in her future. She turns Juno into one of the more memorable protagonists in recent films yet it doesn’t seem like the kind of role that the Academy usually celebrates (which is too bad). Additionally, I think that a lot of Juno’s charm comes from her speech; first-time screenwriter Diablo Cody sets Juno up with a stream of gems that Page delivers with the timing of a screen veteran.

I do have a couple issues with the script. First, I think that the movie (perhaps like a teenager?) went through a bit of an identity crisis. It seemed at the beginning that Juno appeared on track to be another goofy Napoleon Dynamite type of movie (for example, there were too many goofy characters in the first fifteen minutes, one of which could be Napoleon’s distant cousin). Similarly, the dialogue between Juno and her friend Leah seemed to be filtered through a thesaurus at the beginning of the movie; the audience would easily see Juno’s wit and intelligence even if she didn’t try to pack in a bunch of SAT words while talking on her Cheeseburger phone.

Once Cody’s script, skillfully directed by Jason Reitman (whose Thank You For Smoking shares a similar off-beat satirical charm), got through these growing pains, Juno became a movie about relationships. Bleeker, the father of Juno’s child, is the awkward and sincere foil to Juno’s sarcastic demeanor. While Michael Cera seems to be the go-to guy for sweet-yet-awkward teenage characters (which he does well in Arrested Development and Superbad), his performance is more than just awkward gawking. We see Bleeker’s heart break as Juno pushes him away, and runs (literally) by her side despite these distances.

The two sets of parents – Juno’s father and step-mother (another tremendous performance from Allison Janney, who will always be C.J. Cregg to me) and the potential adoptive parents (Jennifer Garner and Jason Bateman, both superb for surprisingly different reasons) – showcase the different sides of the modern American family. Ultimately, both sets provide Juno with different perspectives on nurturing relationships and help Juno through her pregnancy. Juno certainly matures through the process; some of which is expected, some of which is unwanted (as she astutely notes, she deals with “things beyond my maturity level”), but Juno comes out of the entire process a stronger woman with a new appreciation for family and friends.

Speaking of relationships, I’d be remiss to leave out the music in the film. Yes, I spent a bit of my time identifying the records on Juno’s floor (Patti Smith’s Horses, appropriately) and posters on Mark’s wall, but the true musical gems were in Kimya Dawson’s song that ran throughout the movie. These songs narrate Juno’s inner monologue and help to guide the viewer through her roller coaster pregnancy. Additionally, Dawson’s “Anyone Else But You” is the soundtrack to an extremely tender moment between Bleeker and Juno at the end of the film (and, in my opinion, an incredibly endearing and realistic ending).

Juno’s greatest strength, as Hulbert wrote in her Slate article, comes in the realism in the movie. Juno portrays a pregnant teen without turning her into a pariah or a political statement, and everything in her world – her family, friends, emotions, school – are realistic. Going into the movie (and over the first ten minutes or so) I worried that Juno would be too over-the-top. However, Page’s performance and Cody’s script mold Juno into a conflicted blend of sarcastic and aloof detachment with teenage uncertainty and vulnerability. As her pregnancy progresses, you’ll become more attached to Juno and her support system (and appalled by those who betray her) .

Juno manages to provide an amusing look at or society without seeming trite or heavy-handed.  Instead, the film uses comedy to examine how pregnancy affects everyone (young and old) and make a statement about the modern American family.