EDGE: Michael Cera and the death of irony

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By Sonny Bunch

If Michael Cera has a predecessor, it's Dustin Hoffman.

Mr. Hoffman burst onto the scene out of nowhere 40 years ago with a striking performance in "The Graduate." Opposite Anne Bancroft, Mr. Hoffman took a role written for a waspy overachiever and imbued it with a mumbling nebbishness; his body language and verbal insecurity were in striking contrast to the typical leading man of the day.

Mr. Cera is a similarly unlikely leading man. Although he has an undeniable boyish charm, one would never confuse him for Paul Newman or Tom Cruise. But like Dustin Hoffman before him, Michael Cera has tapped into a very real current within the American consciousness.

By choosing his projects wisely, Mr. Cera has developed broad appeal with both hipster tastemakers and the general public alike. His star turns could signal the beginning of a new era of comedy, one in which irony is out and sincerity is in.

He first gained prominence on "Arrested Development," the critically acclaimed cult television show that failed to find an audience until it hit DVD shelves. Playing the role of the put-upon, oft-ignored son, George-Michael Bluth, Mr. Cera's character was a bright spot of sincerity in a show otherwise steeped in irony. George-Michael was the only person who seemed to care about the screw-ups surrounding him, often reminding his father about the importance of family; his faith never wavers.

Mr. Cera is an unlikely breakout star from that show; his character was insecure and soft-spoken, not too flashy, and had few memorable lines. But he has parlayed the personality showcased on "Arrested Development" into an increasingly successful feature film career.

2007 was a banner year for Mr. Cera. First came his starring role in "Superbad" as Evan, the straight man to Jonah Hill's boisterous Seth. The pair's relationship in the film is handled with surprising care - in between moments of uproarious humor, "Superbad" is a genuinely tender look at the twilight of a friendship.

"Juno," on the other hand, was about the beginning of a relationship. The burgeoning romance between Mr. Cera's Paulie and the titular character (played by Ellen Page) felt real: Paulie's longing for someone who seems out of reach and acts more than a little aloof; the sense of rejection when Juno tells Paulie to go to the prom with someone else; Paulie's statement that he "tries really hard" when Juno says his coolness seems so effortless.

The tender moments in these movies could have been played hyper-ironically, as a deconstruction of the traditional celluloid relationship, but they aren't. In an era of postmodern meta-comedy, Paulie and Seth were both refreshingly unself-aware.

Both "Superbad" and "Juno" were surprise hits, modestly budgeted comedies that broke nine figures at the box office. Mr. Cera follows up those flicks this weekend with "Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist," another comedy with an indie sensibility and a striking lack of irony. As the title characters run around New York City trying to find a lost friend and a surprise performance by their favorite band, it's hard not to get sucked into the pair's melodrama. It is heartfelt, almost to a fault.

Perhaps Mr. Cera (and the sincerity he represents) is a sign of the times. Just as "The Graduate" struck a chord with baby boomers because of their shared rejection of the Greatest Generation's values, snark-laden irony might be a mind-set few can afford to indulge in a time of collapsing prosperity. Maybe we all feel a little more comfortable cheering for someone who means what he says.