*Some JUNO spoilers ahead, so steer clear until you've seen it*
Jason Bateman's Mark in
Juno is not a creep. He's a repressed artist who rushed into a marriage before he was content with his accomplishments, making him appear immature and selfish. In being such a person, he is unfortunate, painful, and, most importantly, real.
He has seemingly found a peer in Ellen Page's Juno, the younger female version of his music-loving self and carrier of his adopted child. They swap albums and bond over bloody horror flicks. The friendship is there and only when Juno reacts (as a 16 year old would and should) to news of his planned divorce does Mark fully realize that she is a teenager.
Juno sees a utopic environment for raising a child, but Mark lives in a suburban prison, one that suffocates his true being. She pegs him as fit for parenthood because he's "old" and married, and this assumptive categorizing
forces Mark to inquire about her true motives for visiting and perception of him. As she responds, youthfully admitting her fondness for his rock star wannabe life, he deconstructs his current existence consisting of a hidden room for his belongings, his valuables downsized to "stuff in boxes," and a feeling of surviving "underground." "This is what my life has become," he reveals with great disappointment. It is a life with complexities, as Juno puts it, "way beyond [her] maturity level," and therefore outside of her understanding. Her non-surprising coping mechanism is to insult his beloved Sonic Youth, tear up, and run away.
Their private interactions are full of potential romance that might be explored in a lesser film. Silent, smiling glances of connection are exchanged on Mark's sofa and the two share an awkward dance. Plus, there is a level of sneakiness involved, since Jennifer Garner's Vanessa frowns on her husband "not contributing," especially when he's supposed to be working. Surprised by Juno's presence at their house, Vanessa suspects no foul play; only the possibility that something is wrong with their baby. Her one-track response is a testament to her maturity and readiness to be a mother, making her a near character foil for Mark. She wishes that Mark would conform to her adult standards, but each moment with him assures us that he won't.
Instead of giving in to scandal with a young platonic admirer, Bateman's facial expressions and ultimately his actions reveal his true identity: an aspiring Kurt Cobain in need of growing up. During the dance, Juno buries her head into his chest. The screenplay ambiguously calls for Mark to "pull Juno as close as he can, given her expanding girth," but Bateman's eyes reflect an unscripted concern consistent with his characterization of Mark. Feeling close to Juno despite the danger of her vulnerability, he sees the moment as better than any for delivering news of leaving his wife. Instead of accepting his decision as a righteous move toward independence and future fame ("It's something I've wanted to do for a long time," he assures her), Juno revolts as she witnesses her child-rearing Eden crumble. Simultaneously, Mark's apparent peer relationship ends, as does his screen time.
He doesn't invite Juno to follow him into bachelor life and even at her most desperate low, she wouldn't tag along. It's primarily Juno's naivety, fueled by a misinterpretation of Mark's desire for friendship that even raises rumors of infidelity. She may be the product of a broken and krazy-glued home, but she's no home wrecker. She understands and respects the sanctity of marriage and only innocently crosses minor boundaries that she didn't know existed. No one's life is destroyed or even harmed. Mark and Vanessa rid themselves of future strife by making a clean cut while Juno (and hopefully Mark) learn temporarily stinging life lessons that aid in their developing maturities. It's win-win even if it doesn't initially seem pretty.
Serving as the connecting strings, it is the conventions of the predictable romantic comedy and infidelity drama that screenwriter Diablo Cody plays against. She explores social taboos but on a deeper level and through well-developed characters. Therefore, it's acceptable to guess that a character may behave a certain way based on cinematic precedence, but not OK to assume that a perceived stereotype defines Cody's characters. They are far deeper than the paper dolls of contemporary throwaway comedies, capable of surprising the viewer with genuine actions. Not only is Cody playing off the norm, she is continuing the tradition of fine filmmaking that craft honest characters who actually exist. As a result, real relatable emotions are explored instead of hyperbolic fantasies that poison audiences.
Juno is the kind of film that intelligent viewers crave. It gives them relevant experiences that exist daily, not magazine assignments to falsely lure and leave a man in 10 days or women who are bridesmaids 27 times over. Little is taught by those movies other than Hollywood loves to portray alternate universes that distort reality. Instead, responsible viewers opt to find themselves in Cody's writing and the acting of Page, Garner, and Bateman. The joy of doing so is priceless. Accept no substitutes.