Deborah Lipp

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.

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.

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.

Well, there may not be an Oscars ceremony, but the nominations are in. And my score sucks.

Best Picture: I’ve seen NONE! None I say! (Atonement, Juno, Michael Clayton, No Country for Old Men, There Will Be Blood). I really do want to see all of them.

Best Actor: I’ve seen two (Viggo in Eastern Promises, Depp in Sweeney Todd) and I intend to see one or two more (not Valley of Elah, thanks).

Best Actress: I’ve seen one (Julie Christie, Away From Her). I intend to see two more.

I could go on but it remains about that pathetic.

Eastern Promises (2007) 10/10
Anna (Naomi Watts) is a midwife at a London hospital. Nikolai (Viggo Mortensen), is a driver working for the Russian mafia. When a Russian girl dies giving birth, and leaves a diary behind, their paths cross. Directed by David Cronenberg.

Late fall and early winter are when I catch up on the most acclaimed movies of the year. I still have to review Sweeney Todd (which I saw Christmas day) and I’m trying to get past the waiting list on Netflix for Zodiac and Ratatouille. Meanwhile, buzz is big for Viggo for Best Actor, so here we are.

I’m not an expert on Cronenberg. I know he’s considered all auteur up the whazoo, but it seems this is only the third of his films I’ve seen. So I can’t speak to any Cronenberg thematic elements in this review. Nonetheless, it’s easy to see that Eastern Promises is exquisitely constructed; it works as a straight-ahead gangster thriller, while at the same time exploring interesting themes. The plot twists and turns intelligently; it’s not a movie that’s twisty for the sake of twists, but you can’t easily predict what will happen next.

The acting is solid. Armin Mueller-Stahl as the gang boss, and Vincent Cassel as his spoiled and drunken son are chilling, while Viggo is just stunning. Really, it’s an amazing performance, richly embodied. Every gesture, every facial expression, every nuance of posture, is part of a whole. Apparently, upon getting the role, he simply took off for the Urals on his own, meeting and befriending unsavory types and learning what the character was all about. Naomi Watts has comparatively less to do; the script contrasts her ordinary, above-ground life with the violence and mystery of the underworld, and so Watts is…ordinary. But for that, she is solid and believable, and never cliché.

The film’s title speaks to its theme. Promises, obligations, oaths, and honor permeate Eastern Promises. The gangsters live by a code, vor v zakone (thieves in law), which cannot be broken. The moral obligations of family; father to son, brother to brother, and Anna’s commitment to protect her patient, all come into play. Tension builds as honor and oath come into conflict, as the diary reveals secrets dishonorable to keep.

Viggo’s Nikolai is so interesting in this respect. He is quietly terrifying, and yet in a dozen small ways, reveals himself to be an honorable man. Living by the thieve’s code, violent, cold as ice, he has molded himself into a man of principle, and his principles are being tested by Anna’s interference. What will happen remains, moment-by-moment, a mystery, there is little obvious here, but it all works.

I saw Eastern Promises last night, and woke up thinking about it. I am haunted by these characters and this script and am ready to see the film again.

I’m doing this because I’ve gone nuts. Or because all that political blogging last week demanded something frivilous.

Anyway, half the images in the collage are Jennifer Morrison of the show House. The other half are Keri Russell from the movie Waitress.

Unless…has anyone ever seen them together?

The Golden Globes winners were announced last night, in what I am told was a boring press conference (I didn’t watch, but my sister did, and gave me the blow by blow on the phone).

Basket of Kisses was right on top of it, and I’m feeling really good about it. What’s Basket of Kisses, you ask? That’s the Internet’s only unofficial Mad Men blog. co-authored by Roberta and me. Mad Men won twice last night; best dramatic series, and best actor in a dramatic series (John Hamm), beating out impressive competition.

Eighty percent of EOnline’s respondents have never seen Mad Men. Time to change all that. The first season will be re-run Monday mornings/Sunday nights at midnight (y’know, the Monday that starts after the 11pm Sunday show ends), beginning January 20 on AMC. Watch it, and then visit Basket of Kisses for lively discussion.

Starstruck (1982) 10/10
Aspiring singer Jackie (Jo Kennedy) and her aggressive young cousin Angus (Ross O’Donovan) will do anything to make Jackie a star. Can they win the big prize money on a pop show competition in time to pay Jackie’s mom’s debt, and save the family pub?

Starstruck delights me and thrills me and makes me all giddy inside. Roberta and I saw it in the theater in 1982 and we fell mad in love with it, and then it disappeared. No one saw it or had really much heard of it since. We each bought the soundtrack and played it to death. And now I’ve got the special edition DVD and I am so pleased to be able to report that I wasn’t wrong in 1982, it’s as wonderful as I remembered and more so.

There’s only one description for Starstruck, and I’ve been using it for twenty-five years: It’s an Australian New Wave Andy Hardy musical. Save mom’s store (pub) by singing in the big show with fun musical numbers and oh, look a romance! So it was gratifying to see the extras, where director Gillian Armstrong and writer Stephen MacLean describe it in exactly those terms.

So what else can I say? It’s a brightly colored, delightfully homey indie film, that was just a little before its time. Had it been released in 1983 or 1984, I think it would have been a hit. It was MTV style before MTV, funky Aussie family life before Muriel’s Wedding, with distinctive production design by Rocky Horror’s Brian Thompson.

There’s something about it that’s campy, except that campy is the wrong word. It’s the word that comes to mind for something that’s over the top, a little surreal, and very playful. But camp suggests sarcasm or mockery or so-bad-it’s-good, and there’s only one scene that goes down that road even a little. It’s just…fun. And inviting. It’s a movie that wants you to step into its world and enjoy the ride.

The cast is all unknowns and newcomers, and sometimes the acting is a little rough around the edges, but again, everyone is having fun, and the performers all have enormous conviction. They throw themselves into their roles with abandon.

The subplots are throwaway, in exactly the right way for a musical. Jackie and Angus are “Siamese cousins;” Angus’s mother is dead (I think?) and his father abandoned him, so he and Jackie have lived together as siblings since he was ten (he’s 14, she’s 18). They are delightful together, full of in-jokes and shticks that feel authentically silly. He fancies himself a music promoter, and comes up with bold and outrageous schemes to make Jackie famous. Jackie is clothing-obsessed, boy-crazy, and loves to sing, but pretty clearly wouldn’t know how to promote herself without her cousin.

One night Jackie gets on-stage in a local battle of the bands, and ends up spending the night with a guitar player from another band. It was a one-nighter for her, but he tracks her down when one of Angus’s schemes gets her on the local news. Meanwhile, the scheme brings her to the attention of the host of a local music show, and she’s after the big prize money as well as the host. There’s also a financial threat to the bar, a romance for Jackie’s mother, and more. It all adds to the frantic pacing but it’s never hard to follow.

The musical numbers are joyful and dynamic and memorable.

Rating systems are weird. Is it really a 10 out of 10? What it is, is strongly recommended. Go! See! This! Movie!