“There’s something very beautiful about turning a situation where you’re about to fall down to gracefully getting back on your feet.” While a little on the nose, this quote serves as the perfect thesis statement for Yngvild Sve Flikke’s Ninjababy. Like Moonee in Sean Baker’s The Florida Project stating that her favourite tree is the one that has tipped over but is still growing, it is sappy but eloquent in its own precocious way, and it reverberates because it is often something we all need to hear.

Based on Inga H Sætre’s graphic novel Fallteknik (Norwegian for “the art of falling”), Flikke’s sophomore feature arrives at SXSW after its international premier at Berlin International Film Festival, where it won over crowds and critics with its rambunctious charm and wit. The coming-of-age dramedy centres on Rakel (Khristine Thorp), a twenty-something hot mess with vague ambitions of becoming a comic book artist, who one day discovers that not only is she pregnant, she is six months along. Abortion out of the question, Rakel takes on the overwhelming tasks of rectifying the baby’s future, resolving conflicts with potential parents, and finding recourse for her own rocky trajectory, all while sparring verbally with her imagined cartoon baby (voice of Herman Tømmeraas).

It is hard not to call this Norwegian’s answer to Juno (2007), but this film exudes the same unabashed, twee charm, while never getting judgmental against its female protagonist and never shying away from icky realities of toying with sex. Ninjababy even has similar sketchbook interludes, with animated cartoon graphics adding sizzle to Rakel’s manic, devil-may-care demeanour. Unlike Juno, Ninjababy updates the unwanted pregnancy premise from a young adult experimenting in high school to a modern day millennial enjoying casual hook-ups, and it does away with the dissenting pro-life voices of the American Midwest in favour of the refreshingly unperturbed voices of forward-thinking Scandinavians.

The script will have you hooked and laughing right from the start, and though the story does drag through some patches that feel like detours, the detours all converge back in Rakel’s idiosyncratic world in a satisfying way. And while we’re talking about Rakel, let’s talk about Khristine Thorp. Thorp takes this role and runs, harnessing a frenetic energy that, while over the top, is also grounded and charismatic — tapped into the heart of the shaggy, scatterbrained, slacker lifestyle. She is matched by colourful but never contrived supporting characters, all of whom intersect with Rakel in continually unexpected ways. While Ninjababy will surely be shoehorned along with Juno in a sub-genre of indie pregnancy dramedies, it should never be denounced as formulaic.

Ninjababy is spirited and brimming with charm, and comes equipped with appeal for audiences young and old, despite its brief “R-rated” moments. While it dips into the hokey—the proliferation of once privately held “nicknames,” for example (and yes, I’m talking about “Dick Jesus”)—it always surfaces again with emotional poignancy. I, for one, would be sorely disappointed if this film were overlooked as a “reader” and not embraced immediately.