As Juno (the character) goes, so goes Juno (the film). Whatever may irritate you about Ellen Page's snarky, flippant, so insecure that she overcompensates with brazenness teenager at the beginning of the film, it will dissipate in a flash and you will be forever won over. By the time she and soul mate, Bleeker (outstanding, understated Michael Cera) sing that maddeningly catchy love song to each other by the closing credits, your heart will have overflowed. May Juno and Bleeker never grow old (and unless by some nightmare there is a sequel, they never will). They exist in perfect harmonious unity, as God intended.
There is not much to write about with Juno, other than to encourage audiences to see it, and commend it for doing nearly everything right. Although the movement to create film and television teenagers who speak and act like graduate study philosophy majors (minoring in pop culture) never impressed me, I'll make an exception for the characters written by Diablo Cody.
In Jason Reitman's film, Cody's hip, interesting, fully realized characters are given a cool world to move around and interact in. Though it is far (far) more down to earth, Juno matches the impeccable narrative success of Amy Heckerling's teen classic, Clueless. Both films are stylized and portray the sort of heightened reality only found in a post John Hughes cinemascape, and both center around protagonists anyone would loathe if they weren't so damn irresistible.
Juno is the kind of stunning (but not conscious of it), sweet but tough, pseudo-grunge/goth female high school chick you always encounter in movies, but you never found in actual high school. She is a wonderful character in her own right. I'd watch a movie about her