Juno, Paranoid Park

Juno (2007). Dir. Jason Reitman. Alright. I’ll admit it, publicly even. I walked into this movie expecting to be totally turned off by it, but, apart from some cringe-inducing moments I found the film forgettably likable. The actors generally delivered their dialogue believably, I say generally because I doubt anyone could give “This is one doodle that can’t be undid home-skillet” without me having visions of burning buildings flash in front of my eyes. Ellen Page, as the eponymous Juno, succeeds in her job of tying all of the varied ensemble together. She particularly carries scenes opposite Michael Cera (Paulie Bleeker) who I found to be too understated of a presence, I understand that he is intended to be the too-passive wallflower that somehow succeeds in drawing the attention of ’sassy’ Juno. However, even when he begins to show how and why he is so engaging it is not enough fire and far too late for his significant lack of screen-time.

Musically I thought that the film chose its last-season indie-pop fairly well, and only old fogeys or those unfamiliar with the last 5 or 10 years of non-mainstream pop will find it grating (or overly clever, or anything other than moderately well chosen thematic fare). To sum up my position: better than most, but not in any way groundbreaking or intensely hip, and don’t believe any opinions to the contrary.

Other than that, I liked the shifts in tone and palette that accompanied the seasonal changes, not over the top use of color, but enough to emphasize the tonal shifts in emotional weight. All in all this is a cute and fun film.

Paranoid Park (2007) Dir. Gus Van Sant. Van Sant’s newest film Paranoid Park takes on similar themes from his earlier works. Themes like disaffected youth, responsibility, and alienation, amongst others continue to be at issue. The story is incredibly simple, Alex (Gabe Nevins) is a student coping with everyday issues until an accident forces him to deal with a load of guilt almost more than he can handle.

Structurally speaking the film uses overlapping sound, repeated footage, and dreamy slow-motion and camcorder footage of skateboarders to layer meaning and thought throughout the story. Major narrative sequences tend to be shown twice, particularly leading up to and following the crisis that is the impetus for the narrative. Sounds from memory, disjointed from visual remembrances, bleed over into the narrative areas that surround the painful memories of the night that everything changed for Alex. The film itself cannot quite bring itself to show the viewer what actually happened for most of the film. But, like a whirlpool, the viewer, along with Alex, is drawn deeper and deeper into needing to know, record, and remember the events. Until eventually, we see the painful reason for Alex’s withdrawal. It also becomes painfully clear why he himself could not bear to iterate what happened, and particularly his own place within that fracturing moment.

I don’t always find myself defending Van Sant, but here I think his obvious technical skill is put to great use in capturing the sense of separation that the character of Alex is attempting to cope with. Along with searingly beautiful cityscapes and a series of scenes that take place with Alex alone overlooking the beach, the film continually finds ways to juxtapose the intense ugliness of the events, the world that Alex inhabits, and the pounding insistent guilt that Alex paints across those in a position to call attention to his evasions and half-truths. All of this is incredibly well-integrated into a cohesive film that is highly recommended for those who are fans of Van Sant’s oeuvre, as well as anyone with an interest in psychological film-making.