Juno is a fantastic movie. When people look back on what happened in late twentieth- and early twenty-first century American art, it will be clear that movies were the medium of choice for the really talented artists of our time. If Salinger came back he would do so as an independent filmmaker. Ditto Dickens or Tolstoy, or even (perhaps especially) Jane Austin and Sylvia Plath. (Can you imagine how Plath would light a scene?)
I was thinking all of that when watching Metropolitan (a very different kind of movie from Juno), but this Sandbox has set me off. Yes, you can analyze the works of all these people according to how they fit into the cultural politics of their day. Indeed, you should. But if you wrote as reductive an essay as this one, you'd run the risk of being confused with a sophomore.
Juno is a great movie because it has believable characters making difficult choices according to their own logic, because it makes us care about their story, because it is moving without being manipulative, because if it were a poem it's language would pursue you like a doppelganger.
Given all that, this essay seems much more a product of the culture wars than Juno.