Juno is the greatest indie abortion since Garden State. Since I have a special loathing for Garden State and Zach Braff, it is very rare for a movie to be outdone by fucking Garden State.
Juno achieved it. The dialogue just isn't intelligent but it tries desperately to be. Ellen Page is pretty in her own way but as soon as she opens her mouth, her attractiveness goes away. The forced dialogue from the stripper Diablo Cody, who may have written this movie on one of her coke binges while she tries to justify why she stripped naked for money, just doesn't fit. She wants to be quirky but then immediately tries to veer off into seriousness.
Michael Cera is well...Michael Cera. He's a confused dimwit who has no clue what is going on but at the same time, freaks out like a distinguished mentally-challenged fellow who doesn't get his pudding cup, predictably every time. The rest of the cast is disposable and the attempt to bring AD was kind of interesting but it is sad that the only thing that could be interpreted as a plus is due to the fact that it involves other TV shows.
The worst moment was when the mom yelled at the doctor for making a quip about her whore daughter spreading legs for someone as oafish as Cera. If anyone deserves to be punched in the vagina in the series of indie garbage films, this mom would get it. The fact that they made it seem legitimate when it was a tantrum was ridiculous. Once again, Diablo Cody has no idea what is going on and probably wrote it as some corrupt middle manager snorted a line off of her left tit. Then the ending was just as bad. She gives up the kid and plays the guitar. No harm, no foul. The end. What a shitty ending. In the end, Page just pops out a kid, hands it off to someone else, and the next day, she is strumming some tunes. It was an irrational conclusion to an irrational movie.
The movie wasn't as bad as the fans who acted like it was the best thing since sliced bread. Reminded me of Garden State and Napoleon Dynamite. Everyone went to see it because everyone else did. Then three months later, you look at your ticket stub and wonder why you ever bothered with that shit. Then you realized that you went because you succumbed to the pressure. That or you were trying to get your pencil wet with some emo chick who thought that it was a movie that captured her emotions and real life perfectly.
Yeah, fuck Juno.
