I grew up in Michigan and North Carolina, but my home away from home will always be Disney World. There were few things as influential on my childhood as "The Most Magical Place on Earth," and that's pretty much due to the fact that I went there on a yearly basis. You know how normal people get excited to go to Disney once in their lifetime? Yeah, it was just my family's regular vacation destination. I come from a family of Disney-holics, and I've been more times than I can really remember- the trips just start to blur together after a while. There's a ritualistic quality to everything that happens on a Disney trip, and that includes the rather lengthy drive it takes to get there. We would always stop at an outlet mall in St. Augustine, Florida, which featured discount Disney merchandise that the parks no longer wanted to sell (this store regrettably closed a few years back). From there, we'd inch closer to Orlando, where we would pass the sights of downtown and note the ever-growing skyline of Universal Orlando and Islands of Adventure.
And then, as the gates of Disney World drew near, we would always pass these cheap motels and bargain stores. They're very gaudy and extravagant, equipped with bright colors and giant murals of bald eagles and the like. And I'll be honest, I never gave much thought to what was really there.
Thankfully, Sean Baker did.
The Florida Project is about a society that lies just outside our vision. Maybe we never realized it was there, or maybe we just didn't care. But on the outskirts of the Magic Kingdom, there is a community of people in immense poverty, living week-to-week in motels and just hoping to scrape by. The Florida Project is their story, and more specifically, it's the story of a young girl named Moonee. Despite these awful conditions, Moonee and her friends are able to create their own kind of magic during a beautiful Florida summer, while also subtly coming to realize that their situation is far from normal. Under the guidance of director Sean Baker and co-screenwriter Chris Bergoch, The Florida Project emerges as a breathtaking mix of hysterical comedy and heart-wrenching tragedy, a fully-formed ensemble piece that does something truly and genuinely unique. It's a touching, gut-busting, masterfully crafted film- it's unlike anything else you'll see this year.
Set in a hotel called The Magic Castle over the course of a playful summer, The Florida Project is basically a series of vignettes that chronicle the life of young Moonee (Brooklynn Prince), Scooty (Christopher Rivera), and Jancey (Valeria Cotto), as well as Halley (Bria Vinaite), Moonee's irresponsible mother. And of course, there's Bobby (Willem Dafoe), the gruff and funny manager with a heart of gold. Moonee and her friends play in the hot Florida sun, often finding a way to anger tourists and cause major property damage in the process. To be frank, there isn't really a typical narrative to be found in this film, and that's something that will compel many audience members to stay very far away. But through these little stories and quiet character changes, The Florida Project charts a clear path towards tragedy, slowly but surely allowing the innocence of childhood to collapse as Halley's immaturity becomes more devastating.
The Florida Project pulls off something that feels like it should be impossible. Even though the film stars mostly young children, this is not made for kids in any way, shape, or form. The Florida Project is a very hard R, filled with plenty of salty language and other mature material. These kids grow up in an atmosphere of trauma and hardship. Halley is a prostitute who can barely afford food, drug deals are going on down the hall, and the area surrounding The Magic Castle is full of danger and uncertainty. But the kids don't really see this. Moonee is as happy as you would expect any carefree 5-year old to be, and her friends are the exact same way. The genius behind Baker's vision is his ability to craft a tragedy through the hopelessly optimistic eyes of children. They don't see the poverty and the misery of the situation; they only see the fun that they can have in their own little private wonderland.
The violence and maturity of the narrative exists as a peripheral element for the young protagonists. In one of the more memorable scenes, Halley and Ashley (Scooty's mother, played by Mela Murder) get into a massive brawl, leaving Scooty to witness the brutality of his mother's face being bashed repeatedly. But only the back of Scooty's head is in focus- the rest of the scene occurs in a distinct haze. Scooty can clearly see the harsh fight on display, but maybe he just tunes it out. To use another example, Halley's profession is never explicitly stated, only implied through nuances that appear from scene to scene. Every time that a client comes over for Halley, Moonee is in the bathtub, rap music blasting in the background. The first time this happens, you barely notice. But Baker quietly reinforces these visual cues, achieving a kind of subtlety that rivals what fellow A24 alum Barry Jenkins did with Moonlight last year. Perspective is vital to what Baker is doing with this film, and while it was most certainly a tricky balance to achieve, the filmmaker pulls it off remarkably.
Even with all of this happening in the background, The Florida Project is a comedy for a large part of the runtime. As the kids beg for ice cream and dash around Orlando, there's a shocking amount of unfiltered joy. Baker shot the movie on 35mm film, which Bergoch (who did a Q&A after my screening) said was meant to reflect the wonder of childhood. And that it does. The Florida Project is colorful and magical, surprisingly fun to watch for a film with such heavy subject matter. Each little scene carries its own individual sense of momentum, and the way that Baker stitches it all together is tremendous. The film is perhaps a tad overlong, but every character gets a chance to shine, and it's hard not to become engrossed in the richly textured world that Baker has created.
But as joyous and hilarious as The Florida Project can be, this story is ultimately a tragedy, and that's what will surely linger in your mind after the credits roll. While the inherent darkness of the situation remains a background element for most of the film, it's hard not to recognize that Moonee and Halley's situation will take a turn for the worse eventually. It does, and the film builds to a conclusion that serves as a serious gut-punch. Few films in 2017 have had such an acute emotional impact on me, and the way that the finale blends fantasy and reality is just soul-crushing. I know that the ending has been divisive for some, and it does certainly represent a jarring shift in film stock quality (it goes from 35mm film to an iPhone). But for a film where Disney hangs over the story like a cloud, there's no better ending.
Baker is a director with a sharp, breathtaking vision, and Bergoch is a brilliant writer who brings a lot to the table. They deserve all the Oscar attention that is coming their way in the next few months. But The Florida Project is nothing without its show-stopping cast, led by Brooklynn Prince, the film's young breakout star. Child performances are often hit-or-miss in Hollywood, but Prince is nothing shy of terrific. She has an infectious kind of energy, and when she breaks down at the end, it's utterly heartbreaking. She's matched only by her young co-stars, Christopher Rivera and Valeria Cotto, who are both outstanding in their own right. Bria Vinaite has some moments to shine as a terrible mother masking her own pain, and even if it's hard to like her character, it's equally difficult not to feel a certain degree of sympathy for her. But of course, the performance everyone is talking about comes from Willem Dafoe, who plays against type as the genial hotel owner. He's as terrific as everyone says, balancing gruffness and pure heart with amazing precision.
But more than any individual performance, The Florida Project is incredible because of the way it uses its ensemble to create the feeling of a community. There's a small scene where one of the kids moves to a motel in another city, which causes all of the other kids in The Magic Castle to crowd around and give him a hug. It's that kind of pure warmth, a truly inviting sense of humanity that makes The Florida Project such a beautiful film to experience. The poverty and the tragedy is immense, and as I've already indicated, the narrative doesn't end in happiness. But the bond between these characters is equally strong, and that might just be what makes it so heartbreaking to watch. Everyone will walk away with something different, but no matter your overall impression, it's abundantly clear that Sean Baker has made a very special film. It's a brutal movie about the depths of American homelessness and an incredibly hopeful tale about the joys of American childhood. The fact that those two stories blend together seamlessly makes The Florida Project one of the year's very best.
THE FINAL GRADE: A (9.3/10)
Images courtesy of A24
And then, as the gates of Disney World drew near, we would always pass these cheap motels and bargain stores. They're very gaudy and extravagant, equipped with bright colors and giant murals of bald eagles and the like. And I'll be honest, I never gave much thought to what was really there.
Thankfully, Sean Baker did.
The Florida Project is about a society that lies just outside our vision. Maybe we never realized it was there, or maybe we just didn't care. But on the outskirts of the Magic Kingdom, there is a community of people in immense poverty, living week-to-week in motels and just hoping to scrape by. The Florida Project is their story, and more specifically, it's the story of a young girl named Moonee. Despite these awful conditions, Moonee and her friends are able to create their own kind of magic during a beautiful Florida summer, while also subtly coming to realize that their situation is far from normal. Under the guidance of director Sean Baker and co-screenwriter Chris Bergoch, The Florida Project emerges as a breathtaking mix of hysterical comedy and heart-wrenching tragedy, a fully-formed ensemble piece that does something truly and genuinely unique. It's a touching, gut-busting, masterfully crafted film- it's unlike anything else you'll see this year.
Set in a hotel called The Magic Castle over the course of a playful summer, The Florida Project is basically a series of vignettes that chronicle the life of young Moonee (Brooklynn Prince), Scooty (Christopher Rivera), and Jancey (Valeria Cotto), as well as Halley (Bria Vinaite), Moonee's irresponsible mother. And of course, there's Bobby (Willem Dafoe), the gruff and funny manager with a heart of gold. Moonee and her friends play in the hot Florida sun, often finding a way to anger tourists and cause major property damage in the process. To be frank, there isn't really a typical narrative to be found in this film, and that's something that will compel many audience members to stay very far away. But through these little stories and quiet character changes, The Florida Project charts a clear path towards tragedy, slowly but surely allowing the innocence of childhood to collapse as Halley's immaturity becomes more devastating.
The violence and maturity of the narrative exists as a peripheral element for the young protagonists. In one of the more memorable scenes, Halley and Ashley (Scooty's mother, played by Mela Murder) get into a massive brawl, leaving Scooty to witness the brutality of his mother's face being bashed repeatedly. But only the back of Scooty's head is in focus- the rest of the scene occurs in a distinct haze. Scooty can clearly see the harsh fight on display, but maybe he just tunes it out. To use another example, Halley's profession is never explicitly stated, only implied through nuances that appear from scene to scene. Every time that a client comes over for Halley, Moonee is in the bathtub, rap music blasting in the background. The first time this happens, you barely notice. But Baker quietly reinforces these visual cues, achieving a kind of subtlety that rivals what fellow A24 alum Barry Jenkins did with Moonlight last year. Perspective is vital to what Baker is doing with this film, and while it was most certainly a tricky balance to achieve, the filmmaker pulls it off remarkably.
Even with all of this happening in the background, The Florida Project is a comedy for a large part of the runtime. As the kids beg for ice cream and dash around Orlando, there's a shocking amount of unfiltered joy. Baker shot the movie on 35mm film, which Bergoch (who did a Q&A after my screening) said was meant to reflect the wonder of childhood. And that it does. The Florida Project is colorful and magical, surprisingly fun to watch for a film with such heavy subject matter. Each little scene carries its own individual sense of momentum, and the way that Baker stitches it all together is tremendous. The film is perhaps a tad overlong, but every character gets a chance to shine, and it's hard not to become engrossed in the richly textured world that Baker has created.
But as joyous and hilarious as The Florida Project can be, this story is ultimately a tragedy, and that's what will surely linger in your mind after the credits roll. While the inherent darkness of the situation remains a background element for most of the film, it's hard not to recognize that Moonee and Halley's situation will take a turn for the worse eventually. It does, and the film builds to a conclusion that serves as a serious gut-punch. Few films in 2017 have had such an acute emotional impact on me, and the way that the finale blends fantasy and reality is just soul-crushing. I know that the ending has been divisive for some, and it does certainly represent a jarring shift in film stock quality (it goes from 35mm film to an iPhone). But for a film where Disney hangs over the story like a cloud, there's no better ending.
Baker is a director with a sharp, breathtaking vision, and Bergoch is a brilliant writer who brings a lot to the table. They deserve all the Oscar attention that is coming their way in the next few months. But The Florida Project is nothing without its show-stopping cast, led by Brooklynn Prince, the film's young breakout star. Child performances are often hit-or-miss in Hollywood, but Prince is nothing shy of terrific. She has an infectious kind of energy, and when she breaks down at the end, it's utterly heartbreaking. She's matched only by her young co-stars, Christopher Rivera and Valeria Cotto, who are both outstanding in their own right. Bria Vinaite has some moments to shine as a terrible mother masking her own pain, and even if it's hard to like her character, it's equally difficult not to feel a certain degree of sympathy for her. But of course, the performance everyone is talking about comes from Willem Dafoe, who plays against type as the genial hotel owner. He's as terrific as everyone says, balancing gruffness and pure heart with amazing precision.
But more than any individual performance, The Florida Project is incredible because of the way it uses its ensemble to create the feeling of a community. There's a small scene where one of the kids moves to a motel in another city, which causes all of the other kids in The Magic Castle to crowd around and give him a hug. It's that kind of pure warmth, a truly inviting sense of humanity that makes The Florida Project such a beautiful film to experience. The poverty and the tragedy is immense, and as I've already indicated, the narrative doesn't end in happiness. But the bond between these characters is equally strong, and that might just be what makes it so heartbreaking to watch. Everyone will walk away with something different, but no matter your overall impression, it's abundantly clear that Sean Baker has made a very special film. It's a brutal movie about the depths of American homelessness and an incredibly hopeful tale about the joys of American childhood. The fact that those two stories blend together seamlessly makes The Florida Project one of the year's very best.
THE FINAL GRADE: A (9.3/10)
Images courtesy of A24
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