AJ O'Leary

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Movie Review: “The Florida Project” (2017)

A touching, impeccably-crafted film about life in the shadow of America's foremost tourist destination

Spoilers follow.

We’re currently living, according to several indicators, in the middle of another Gilded Age. This Gilded Age isn’t as simple as the base-level fact of the rich getting richer while the poor get poorer; while that much is true, an opportunity gap also exists somewhere in the margins between the extremes, placing those lucky enough to be born into certain sets of circumstances or surrounded by a healthy support system on one track and leaving those who aren’t twisting in the wind.

Orlando, Florida is ground zero for this opportunity gap. On one side of the city’s grand equation, you have Walt Disney World, the world’s most popular tourist attraction pretty much every year for the past half century; its extreme success has greatly enriched Disney’s executives and provided comfortable, stable lives for many corporate employees. On the other, you have the sort of generalized misery that tends to accompany tourist towns without much in the way of robust government services or a safety net, forever living in the shadow of central Florida’s promises.

The Florida Project is a slice-of-life tale about life in the latter category. Directed by Sean Baker (Tangerine) and distributed by arthouse hitmaker A24, the film (its title a double-entendre referring not only to Disney World theme park EPCOT’s original name, but also referencing the many housing projects in central Florida) tells the story of hard-up young mother Halley (Bria Vinaite, in her feature-film debut) and daughter Moonee (Brooklynn Prince), living at a Kissimmee motel called the Magic Castle that, like many motels in American tourist towns, serves as extended-stay lodging for those teetering on the brink of homelessness.

We’re given a very candid look at their life and times; Moonee gets in trouble for hurling spitballs at a neighboring motel tenant’s car, waves goodbye to a friend when his father seeks out a better life for them in New Orleans, and crosses paths with a wealthy Brazilian couple who accidentally book a Magic Castle stay intending to visit Disney World, all while Halley tries her best to keep a literal roof over their heads after losing her job as an exotic dancer and answers for her and Moonee’s various acts and actions to the motel’s eternally stressed-out manager (Willem Dafoe). Bonds are tested and break, as they tend to with lives lived on society’s edge, as Halley is forced into progressively more desperate situations (with Moonee often drawn into them, whether taking part or as a passive observer) and external pressures bearing down upon the two of them remain as relentless as Florida’s humidity.

The Florida Project is a poignant, sensitive, and surprisingly subtle piece of filmmaking. It’s tragic, to be sure, but never in a way that feels cheap; the film’s boiling points and saddest reveals are the product of slow burns or inferences left to the viewers to figure out, like when we realize the true meaning behind Halley’s desire to “play dress-up” and have Moonee take photos of her. Above all, the acting just feels real; Vinaite’s emotions and turns of phrase feel perfectly crafted for her role, Prince shines with a better handle on her craft than many actors five times her age, Dafoe is the perfect human embodiment of a deep, prolonged sigh his role calls for, and all the supporting players — from Halley’s best friend-turned-enemy to the pervert chased off the motel grounds by Dafoe — rise to the occasion with laser-like precision.

The Florida Project is a part of a tradition in filmmaking that straddles a fine line. Done improperly, these kinds of movies help no one; they’re something for those of us who’ve ended up on the “right” side of life’s opportunity gap to check off a list that makes us all feel better about our media-watching habits. Done correctly, they can be important windows into how the other half lives for people who’ve had the privilege of cocooning themselves inside a world of housing security, $20 lunches, and NPR their whole lives. It won’t solve any of the world’s issues on its own, but The Florida Project provides us with a brilliantly done look at the side of the tracks tourism bureaus from Florida to California don’t advertise and reminds us all to have a heart and believe in the possibility of a better world for all.

Overall Score: 5 / 5

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