Juno vs Waitress

I’m trying to become a little more savvy about my first impression of trendy movies. I get caught up in hype sometimes, especially if a movie is supposed to be clever and cool, and sometimes I rave about it for a couple months, and won’t let anyone talk about anything else. And then I rewatch, say, Garden State or Reality Bites on DVD, and I’m all secretly embarrassed that I fell for a movie that practically holds its screenplay up to the camera so we can read it from home. When things are too wisecracky, or catch-phrasey, or one-linery, it just feels like so much bullshit, and sometimes I really just want to watch movies that are about people, rather than movies that are about movie characters.

Quite early in Juno, one character drops some news on another, and gets the response, “Honest to blog?” And I almost checked out. I felt like I had caught this one before it tricked me. I knew Juno was a fraud, and I didn’t have to wait for it to show up on HBO to learn my lesson.

But something else happened. Juno is full of wiseacres and characters created just to be a mouthpiece for an admittedly very clever screenwriter. And somehow, like in movies by Wes Anderson and Woody Allen, it’s also full, to the top, with people. Real people I got to know by the end of the movie, and that I liked, a lot. I promise I won’t take this back next month, or next year: I loved Juno.

Juno is sixteen years old, uncommonly quick-witted, and it has to be said, adorable. Out of boredom, curiosity and regular, good old teen lust, Juno has sex with her best friend, Paulie Bleeker (Michael Cera. He plays the same character every time I see him, but he gets better at it each time.) And she gets pregnant. Three pregnancy tests later, she’s positive that it’s positive, and begins the fall, winter, spring and summer that will change her life forever. I was reminded a bit of The Opposite of Sex in those early moments of Juno, because the plots are similar, and Christina Ricci’s character so brazenly mocks the kinds of movies where pregnant teenage girls learn lessons and grow to be better people. But the thing is, Juno isn’t just uncommonly quick-witted, and uncommonly well-spoken, and uncommonly intelligent, she’s all of those things while simultaneously being a character in a movie. And ask yourself: When is the last time I saw a movie with an uncommonly intelligent teenage female character? So yeah, Juno has a laughter-through-tears ending, and it’s full of lines that sound like they’d never be spoken by anyone except movie characters. But there, in the dark, with the sound of popcorn being eaten mere inches away, where else did you think you were, besides the movies? I say this a lot, and I mean it: these are movies first, before they’re anything else.

Juno is played by Ellen Page, an actor I’ve only seen in two other roles (Hard Candy and X-Men 3). Ellen Page is a huge star. Not a huge star waiting to happen. A huge star, now. She’s big-time, and she’s fantastic in Juno. It’s easy to screw this kind of thing up, but she doesn’t miss a beat. Juno is never cloying, or overly cute or manipulative. She’s just herself, and Ellen Page guides that character with such authenticity that most of her lines feel adlibbed.

They’re not, though. Juno’s screenwriter, Diablo Cody, has become famous for how she came to be a screenwriter (in order: stripper, blogger, memoirist, screenwriter), but I’m not interested in that so much as I am the results. Take Juno’s parents. Unlike practically every set of parents in movie (and sitcom) history, Juno’s parents are thoughtful, smart, fair and practical. Juno’s dad (J.K. Simmons, perfect) doesn’t rush over to Paulie’s house with a gun, and he doesn’t humiliate Juno with tales of shattered dreams. He does what dads have to do sometimes: he accepts his disappointment and moves on in order to help his kid. Even more impressively, Juno’s stepmother (Allison Janney. What’s higher than perfect?) isn’t harping around, judging Juno. She loves her, supports her, and takes the initiative in making sure her pregnancy is healthy. Janney has scene after scene where she says smarter things than I recall hearing from a movie parent. Juno—not to mention Juno—is lucky to have her.

But back to the story, which is richer than you’d expect. Juno’s made up her mind; she’s not keeping her baby. She answers an ad, and finds what she believes to be the perfect parents for her baby. Jennifer Garner and Jason Bateman play the prospective parents. They aren’t all they seem, of course. We think, at first, that Juno is right. And then, like Juno, we think we have a good guy and a bad guy. I’d say we’re all wrong, but Juno is as complicated as life, and doesn’t mind blurring lines. Suffice to say, Bateman and Garner are both as good as I’ve seen them in anything. They each have scenes with Juno that give glimpses into the lives these characters wish they were living, and perhaps some clues as to why those lives aren’t happening yet. There’s another movie that could be made from their perspective.

I’ve gone on so long, and I haven’t even mentioned the soundtrack, which is so good as to be necessary, or the direction of Jason Reitman, which is as good as his effort on Thank You for Smoking, only warmer, lighter, and with shades of humanity only hinted at in that film.

So, if you want a truly great double feature, go on and watch The Opposite of Sex. It’s a perverse take on Juno, where no babies are created out of love or friendship, where no one speaks in anything but sarcasm and hatred, and doesn’t care if they sound like movie characters or not. The Opposite of Sex is the blackest comedy, and I think it’s a good time. But Juno, for all the cynicism that tags along with things that are cool, makes you feel good. Listen, I wouldn’t tell this to just anybody, but I trust you guys: I cried at the end. Me. Crying. And you know what an asshole I can be. So, even though Waitress isn’t as good a Juno, I think you should watch it. By the end, you’ll have smiled for about four hours, and I’m not sure you can do much better than that.

Waitress, like Juno, centers on a character who’s pregnant, and planning to have a baby she doesn’t want. Waitress (I’m pretending that’s her name) is played by Keri Russell, who is beautiful and poised, and was probably considered by many to be too beautiful and poised to take on the lead character in a movie like this (much like Michelle Pfeiffer in Frankie and Johnny, Russell is, on the surface, completely wrong for the part, but digs in and wins us over, by being so beautiful and so poised, that instead of wishing for a plainer actress, we just start wishing Russell’s character had a more glamorous job). Waitress is pregnant by her ignorant monster of a boyfriend (Jeremy Sisto, good, but in a role that only allows him to be awful, with no shades of anything resembling evidence that he might have appealed to Waitress at one time), and tries to have the baby in secret. In the meantime, she’s falling for her movie-friendly gynecologist (Nathan Fillian) and commiserating with her coworkers, who are played by Cheryl Hines and Adrienne Shelly, two lovely actresses who appear to be playing Flo and Vera, respectively. Russell is the picture of sincerity throughout Waitress, but Hines and Shelly are going for just a touch too much camp, for my taste.

Waitress was written and directed by Adrienne Shelly. Tragically, it’s the last of her writing and directing we’ll get to see. Good for her for writing a character normally unseen in Hollywood, and for unapologetically pursuing something heartfelt and genuine. Keri Russell is great in the movie, which is ultimately sweet as the pies her character is constantly baking. Waitress is undoubtedly not cool enough for Juno, the actress that plays her, or her screenwriter. But when Waitress holds her baby and whispers, “Oh my god”, you’re likely to tear up like me at Juno. Honest to blog.

Juno: A-

Waitress: B