Monday Movie Review: Juno
Juno (2007) 10/10
Juno (Ellen Page) is sixteen and pregnant. After seeking an abortion and then changing her mind, she decides to give her baby up for adoption.
Everything about Juno works. The strong individuality of the characters; quirky but not full-blown oddball, the honesty and frankness of the reality it presents, the acting, the mise-en-scène, all of it. Juno is about people who are flawed and unique; there isn’t an emblematic role in the group. Jennifer Garner isn’t The Uptight Yuppie, and Allison Janney isn’t The Stepmother; they’re all people, and they’re all worth paying attention to.
The script is well-written, but what kept me laughing was exquisite delivery and timing. J.K. Simmons as Juno’s dad keeps pitching his lines underhanded and soft, so you don’t think much of them, and then wham! The landing. “Hey, Dad.” “Hey, big puffy version of Junebug.”
But let’s get back to the frankness for a moment. I’d classify this movie as sex-positive, remarkably so nowadays. Juno is direct about her sexuality; she had sex and she got pregnant. She is confused about the sex but she enjoyed it. She is confused about the boy but she enjoys him. She isn’t ashamed and she never allows her predicament to negate that. Her parents are unhappy about what’s happened, but they stick by her and help her and don’t hang a scarlet letter around her chest. The language is direct and real. She isn’t “in trouble,” she’s pregnant. She isn’t calling to “handle it” she wants “a hasty abortion.” At the abortion clinic, the very funny girl at the front desk recommends she takes free condoms and is enthusiastic about their use.
But none of this is preaching. This is actually how people talk. In movies, people say “shmuh-shmortion” but in real life, people say the real words, and everyone knows, or should know, that sex happens, even when you’re only sixteen. Juno affects a wise-beyond-her-years routine that’s been working for her until now, and she’s not dropping it just because she’s in over her head.
And all of this sounds like some kind of life lesson, but the best thing about Juno goes back to my first paragraph; it’s a movie about individuals, not about Big Lessons or Symbolic Characters. No one is on-screen to represent a particular choice, they’re all there to be themselves, thankyouverymuch. They all make mistakes, and they all struggle to make fewer mistakes next time.
Yes, it gets touching. It kind of has to. And I shed tears. But it’s not corny. Or too predictable. And none of our characters give up being themselves in order to tidy up the ending. For which I, and any other frequent movie-goer, has got to be incredibly grateful.
For all Juno’s charm and intelligence and humanity, I actually came away mostly with the pleasure of a good laugh that wasn’t mean-spirited or stupid, that celebrated its characters rather than mocked them, and that made me enjoy the act of being there laughing with them.
I haven’t seen the other four nominated Best Pictures, but I’m glad Juno is among them.
Sunday Meditation: Meditation and Prayer
Perhaps you think of meditation and prayer as two entirely different things; many people do. Indeed, meditation can be an entirely secular activity, or it can be spiritual, but unrelated to the worship of a specific deity. Meditation is a discipline of mind, focusing awareness, thoughts, emotions, or state of being in a particular way. Prayer, on the other hand, is communion with deity (God or a god or gods).
Prayer can take many forms. It can be supplication, thanksgiving, acknowledgment, or simply being in the presence of deity in a worshipful way. Most Western religions don’t have a specific tradition of meditation; instead, prayer is where meditation happens. To be in the presence of deity and still the mind in order to commune with deity, to receive wisdom or comfort or peace; this is meditation. It’s explicit in things like Quaker meetings, but implicit, perhaps in different language, in many practices of Christianity, Judaism, and Islam.
But this is a Pagan site, and so let’s talk about this in a Pagan way. My plan is to discuss the relationship between Pagan prayer and meditation today, and in the coming weeks, use the Sunday Meditation space to talk about specific aspects of that, like the use of home altars and so on. I’d welcome suggestions in comments about any specific topics you’d like to see.
First let’s talk about the mind in prayer. Assuming the intention of prayer is to speak with or commune with the gods in some way, then it would certainly help to be in a meditative state first. So there’s two ways of approaching this.
Method 1: Pray.
Method 2: Still the mind. Ground and center. Pray.
Now, right on the face of it, you can see that Method 2 is going to work better, and by “work” I mean “produce the desired result,” i.e. achieving a sense of communion with deity.
You can also prepare to pray in much the same way you prepare to meditate, and for the same reasons:
Phone rings while meditating, concentration broken: Bad.
Phone rings while praying, feeling of connection to deity broken: Bad.
So, preparing to meditate and preparing to pray are not that different. You want to take a little space, a little moment where you’re not interrupted. (On a future Sunday, I’m going to discuss small moments of meditation/prayer and how to find them in a busy life. This is super helpful if you’re the mother of an infant, for example.)
Use of a dedicated spot—an altar—for prayer or worship is actually more common than using such a spot for meditation, but I do it for both, and I do it specifically because it works. There’s a number of things a dedicated spot can achieve; it provides visual cues that help still the mind. Being there triggers a kind of post-hypnotic suggestion, indicating to the mind that it’s time to enter into a meditative state. Things you use during meditation or prayer (rosary beads, candles, incense) are all in a convenient spot, so there’s no fussing about.
I meditate at my altar, and I don’t always make much distinction between prayer or meditation. I’m stilling my mind in the presence of my Goddess. Or I’m stilling my mind in order to be in the presence of my Goddess. Whatever. These distinctions: Prayer, worship, meditation, communion; they’re for the intellect, they’re for thinking about afterwards. In the act, in the moment, it doesn’t matter what you call it, it’s simply what you do that enriches your life and brings peace.
Advice to the seeker
Cosette has posted a wonderful blog entitled “Open Letter to a Seeker.” It condenses a whole lot of good, gentle, helpful information for the Pagan seeker, all in one place. Please read it.
Friday Catblogging: We don’t do this anymore
I am not sure how we started picking Mingo up in strange ways. Like this. But he loved it. Loved it. And begged for it. And actually, still begs for it. But it seemed really weird and creepy so we asked the vet and she said don’t do it. So we don’t.
But it makes for a wild photo.
A.O. Scott’s tender and intelligent obituary of Heath Ledger
In today’s New York Times. Probably the best thing to read as an antitode to creepy and cruel speculation, but not an antitode to grief. An excerpt:
The dismaying sense of loss and waste at Mr. Ledger’s death at 28 comes not only because he was so young, but also because his talent was large and as yet largely unmapped. It seems inevitable that he will now be inscribed in the cult of the beautiful stars who died too young, alongside James Dean, Montgomery Clift and Marilyn Monroe. Even before his death he had been ensnared in a pathological gossip culture that chews up the private lives of celebrities, and Tuesday’s news unleashed the usual rituals of media cannibalism.
Mr. Ledger’s work will outlast the frenzy. But there should have been more. Instead of being preserved as a young star eclipsed in his prime, he should have had time to outgrow his early promise and become the strange, surprising, era-defining actor he always had the potential to be.
How my mind works, part ten million
A couple of weeks ago, Zap2It did a photo feature on what actors could play what presidential candidates. (The feature doesn’t seem to be available anymore, but you can find individual photos by searching for candidate names.)
As Barack Obama, they suggested Harry Lennix. And both before and after I clicked through to see who they selected, I was thinking, “It should be that guy who played an epidemiologist on ER. He was in Ray. That guy.”
That guy who, when I saw Ray, I remembered him as the guy from ER, and looked him up, and then afterwards I still couldn’t remember his name. That guy.
So after I finished looking at the photo essay, I looked up ER and Ray. “That guy”? Harry Lennix. Which I couldn’t figure out from looking at his picture and seeing his name, only from looking up things I’d seen him in.
Chase Bank has the hiccups
I transferred money to cover a withdrawal, and the transfer won’t be in until tomorrow, so Chase Bank sent me an email.
And then another.
And then another.
A total of 262931 since 10 pm this evening, trying to make the same payment. All of them saying they will try 3 times and then give up.
Chase: Give. The fuck. Up.
I guess I’m shallow
If I was Deep and Important and Serious-Minded, I’d blog about Jose Padilla. Instead, I’m moved to write about Heath Ledger.
Few portrayals have moved me as deeply as Ledger’s Ennis Del Mar. As he aged in the movie, growing more closed-in, more shut-off, he was more and more like my ex-boyfriend. I suppose I related to Jack Twist, waiting for my “audience,” not knowing how to quit him. And it was heartbreaking. Brokeback Mountain is not a “four hankie” movie or whatever, not for me, it’s a gut-wrenching, sobbing, hankies won’t help experience. And even with all that emotional involvement, it didn’t elude me how subtle and nuanced and frickin brilliant Ledger’s performance was.
So I’m really sad. I think he would have been brilliant, purely brilliant, in dozens more movies. Only now he won’t.
May he find peace and be born again.
Oops, sorry
What with Oscar nominations and Blog for Choice, I totally forgot I owed you all trivia. Please forgive me. Try to go on with your lives. It’s only 7 days until next Tuesday.
