Juno Makes Teen Pregnancy Rad!

The latest film from director Jason Reitman is a far cry from his freshman effort: Thank You For Smoking. I first saw a preview for the much anticipated: Juno, a few months ago, before the showing of Superbad. It was a short teaser beckoning future Michael Cera fans to another vehicle for his understated stardom, albeit one that reunites him with his Arrested Development co-star Jason Bateman (previously of Teen Wolf Too fame). For weeks I have been hearing about this movie's premier, reading reviews on Rotten Tomatoes that liken the film to last year's surprise hit: "Little Miss Sunshine," or Zach Braff's reach for credibility: "Garden State."

Like both "Little Miss Sunshine," and "Garden State," "Juno" is a humble comedy. But Juno stands on its own as a unique vehicle for considering the serious human issues of teen pregnancy and adoption in a humorous way. I could even stomach the touchy moments between Ellen Page and Michael Cera, when pre-empted by Juno's bold-faced cynicism. The film succeeds in not politicizing the touchy subject of abortion, which can too often lead right-wing extremists to violence or at the very least to crafting creepy midwestern road signs or such monstrosities as the truth trucks in Louisiana adorned with adorable fetuses.

So far I haven't heard of protests outside of this film, perhaps because the protagonist makes the Zealot friendly decision to go through with the pregnancy and give the child to a loving family. Much hilarity inevitably ensues.

Much has been publicized about Diablo Cody and her racy past as a stripper and Bloginatrix, yet while this makes for good gossip, I think it is her unusual background that brings a sense of reality to the story. It's the whole romanticized Kerouac model of writing, "live an interesting life and write interesting stories." The movie doesn't seem to hold any pretensions and at no time does it seem like the screenwriter, or director for that matter, is showing off. It is basic, it is indie, split into succinct seasonal sections and punctuated by Juno's off-the-cuff and endlessly entertaining diatribe on the world at large. One interesting detail for me is the contrast between the acoustic lo-fi soundtrack of the film with the old-school punk bands the protagonist is enamored with. In fact, we never get to hear any of the hardcore punk referenced in the film.

The screenplay is tightly constructed, and at no time during the film, did I feel that anything was wasted or that there were strange unnecessary scenes cluttering up the evolving tale. This is one thing that Juno has over Garden State, which was a sweet movie, but very unpolished. And amazingly enough, the writer's wit doesn't come out of every character's mouth like cloned sheep, a problem with the T.V. show Gilmore Girls, to which the dialogue has also been compared.

Overall, I think that all of the hype surrounding this movie is justified. And the fact that it is being hyped, is evidence that the Academy and critics at large are recognizing good writing at an early stage. I am reminded that last year both Little Miss Sunshine and Stranger Than Fiction were both panned at their initial releases, though both films eventually developed large followings.

Want to find an escape from the gray skies of winter? Want to find a movie with memorable characters? Quotable dialogue? Orange Tic-tacs? Then look no further than Juno (which is nothing like the city in Alaska).

Where's the Line Between Art and Advertisement?

I found a piece of lost art all around Fremont today, at least that's what I thought when I passed some random Stickman signs on my walk with Revi this morning, which usually ends up at the Fremont Coffee Company. I should note that the signs in questions look like the attached photo, but without the all important word at the bottom: "Coffee" which of course could have derailed the whole walk.

For those I haven't proselytized my love of "lost art" to, the idea is basic. One loses a poem or a piece of visual art out in the world to do what art does, but without the additional burden of ego. Simply put, the art is created then disseminated for the larger society to stumble upon and react to, just as one would in a gallery or a reading. The caveat is that it is something that many wouldn't encounter in their daily routines. Lost art is Christo, it is Banksy, it is strange things sent through the mail and poems stuffed in unsuspecting magazines and newspapers.

What does it say then, that this Seattle business is resorting to such Guerrilla tactics? The image itself is interesting, a "Stickman" in some sort of crazy pose, dancing perhaps under his own name. I was hoping that over time, the unnamed artist would reform his creation and the Stickman would become animated, dancing and strolling through the neighborhood from lightpole to lightpole. But it seems that this is just a wish of mine, not a tangible reality.

I guess that leaves it to me to realize my own fantasy, to create a competing character to follow in Stickman's wake. Who can compete with the Stickman? What are his dreams? Fears? Who are his natural predators?

Maybe I should just try the coffee first; take Revi out on another walk and see if the beans are worth the hype. Still, I can't help but think that if the word "Coffee" had just been printed under the smattering of fliers I saw, this whole existential crisis might have been averted.

Tin Man Lacks Heart

Over the last three nights, after stumbling home from various social obligations, I have turned on the Sci-Fi channel to catch their overly hyped mini-series "Tin Man" in the 11-1am slot. What a concept, the World of the Wizard of Oz without the incessant singing. Indeed, I watched the original many times in college, set to Pink Floyd's alternate soundtrack. And the visual world was extraordinary in all its pubescent technicolor splendor.

Needless to say, I bought into the hype when I saw the ads for this show, and once I began the inane 6 hour marathon, I had to see it through. What a disappointment. The story was overly simple yet full of contradictions, and the characters, while interesting in their own right, didn't interact believably.

The first issue of the story is one that resonated with me. Having written my first screenplay last year, fumbling through 130 pages only to begin to find my voice and style in the last 60, I learned many valuable lessons. Rick Blackwood, my screenwriting mentor at LSU made a comment in the first class I took with him that it took a beginning scribe over 300 some pages of writing, before they began to get a handle on the craft.

Now where is this tangent leading? To my point of course. The main issue that I found in my own writing, namely a problem of many beginning screenwriters, is overly prevalent in this production: the characters in the story don't react to the story unfolding before them.

Throughout Tin Man, the characters come upon fantastical situations, dark magic and a world seemingly on the verge of ruin. Yet, our protagonist, played by Zooey Deschanel never wavers in her deadpan; wide-eyed emotion. She continues throughout the show, to fail to react to anything, issuing the final line of the show: "Now this is the O.Z. I remember" with the same lack of expression as in the moments when she is begging for her own life. It's as if she was hit with an "apathy spell" even before the movie began.

This is disappointing especially in light of the other wonderful acting performances by the supporting cast. Yet, the overly emotional reactions of Alan Cummings (in his best costume since Nightcrawler), Richard Dreyfus, Neal McDonough, and Kathleen Robertson, can't make up for the shortcomings of our lead. A large part of this is undoubtedly the acting (or lack thereof), but I levy equal responsibility upon the writers, making amateurish mistakes. Take it from an amateur who spent months rooting through his own screenplay, introducing believable reactions among characters who lie flat in the midst of a tumultuous adventure.

This simple nuance might save a screenplay that is overly simple, with each episode finding the characters trapped or captured, then freed, then trapped or captured, then freed. Yet despite this simple formula, there might still be a compelling story set in a fantastical world if not for the contradictions in the story. Here are some examples: 1) D.G. and Azkadellia remember a childhood song about two princesses, one light, one dark, where only one can lead. But at the end of the mini-series, nothing has changed and though D.G. has been successful in stopping the evil she doesn't become Queen. 2) When they try and reverse the machine that Glitch built and which Azkadellia is using to plunge the O.Z. into darkness they first don't take into account that the machine was already being used in reverse. Additionally, though the Tin Man entered all the codes save one to shut it down, the codes are then reversed by Azkadellia's minions. This means that when the heroes regain control, there isn't one sequence left, but 4 sequences. This is simple math, but ridiculous to overlook. 3) The Tin Man is lead to believe that his wife and son are still alive, and when he searches finds his wife's grave. Yet when he meets with his son toward the end, somehow remembers his wife's death, something he never witnessed. 4) Though not an exact contradiction, D.G. evokes childhood memories of her sister free her from her possession, yet Evil Azkadellia already had access to those memories and referenced them to D.G. the first time they met. How then does this overcome her?

Maybe all they needed was a good copy-editor to look over the 360 page screenplay before they filmed the series. Regardless, I was disappointed with the finished product, which grossly failed to live up to its hype. It is my hope that if they ever expand this concept into a T.V. show, ala Flash Gordon, they will work out the inconsistencies and hire writers with talent to bring the O.Z. back to life.