A Magical Slice-of-Life Tale
It’s hard for me to think of many other films from this year, or the last few for that matter, that have felt as alive as The Florida Project. For that reason, Sean Baker’s follow-up to 2015’s excellent Tangerine is possibly the most important film of the year. In a year that has constantly knocked us down with internal and external anxieties, it’s almost cathartic to see a film in a constant battle with trying to keep a clear mind in a pretty fucked up world that continually seems to slam people with disappointment.
The Florida Project is a slice-of-life tale that follows the life of young Moonee (an astonishing Brooklyn Prince in her first ever acting role) and her young mother Halley (Bria Vinaite). They live in the Magic Castle hotel complex, in the surrounds of Disneyworld. Mooney, full of hope and life, spends her days running around the streets of Florida with her boisterous, mischievous friends; eating ice cream and, um, lighting fires in abandoned beach houses. Halley, meanwhile, struggles to get by and provide a sustainable living situation for her daughter and herself. She constantly resorts to dangerous practices to pave her way, much to the disheartenment of hotel manager Bobby (Willem Dafoe; incredible) who himself is in a constant battle with offering kindness and compassion and running the hotel.
Plot-wise, there isn’t a great amount that really happens in The Florida Project. A good majority of the film is made up of scenes of the everyday lives of these characters. A pedophile rocks up at the complex before being chased away by Bobby. Mooney collects waffles for her mother and her from the waffle house. Halley sells bootleg perfume outside rich hotel complexes. It might sound mundane, but therein lies the thrill of the film. The simple plot structure allows Baker to open up his world and explore to really affect how his characters exist within it. The world we see on screen just feels so lived in. It may exist in surrounds of the fantasy land that is Disneyworld, but the lives they lead are anything but that. The real world is always there, constantly feeling like it’s about to protrude in and swallow them completely.
You never actually leave Kissimmee, Florida, but Baker never lets you lose sight of the bigger picture; of the realism of 2017 America knocking on the door. The highway strips are littered with bootleg Disneyworld outlets and (most alarmingly) gun outlets that effectively convey the class divide between this environment and the people in it. Mooney and Halley do all they can to try and keep it light in this environment that keeps knocking them down for reasons out of their control. It’s this that gives The Florida Project its big, authentic heart. The breadth of emotions you feel over the course of watching the film are broad, yet it never feels aimless in its intentions. You feel everything, and the result is a film that is as immersive as something like Dunkirk.
The film is frequently unflinching, something that may alienate many viewers. But in order to carry across the full extent of the weight of the world, it almost needs to be. Baker lets his characters exist in their world in their own ways. In this way, I was reminded of Harmony Korine’s cult classic Gummo, a similarly polarising and unflinching work that doesn’t hold back in letting its characters be what their environment has shaped them to be, as pleasant or unpleasant as that may be to watch. Baker avoids a subjective point of view by refusing to romanticize or condescend their situations, instead portraying them just as it is. Crucially, Baker shows and doesn’t tell, a technique that allows the film to burn itself onto your mind, long after you’ve left the cinema.
Sealing the deal for the film are two central performances that are undeniably among the year’s best. Willem Dafoe, in possibly his most affecting performance ever, is the beating heart of the film. Bobby’s devotion to being a good person, or at least attempting to be, is heartwarming as it is heartbreaking, and Dafoe throws his all into it. The film belongs to young Brooklyn Prince. In a genuinely astonishing debut performance, Prince single-handedly walks away with the film. After spending most of the film behind a wall of innocence and excitement, the moment at the end of the film where she finally breaks is easily the most powerful moment in a film full of powerful moments, and one of the best pieces of acting you’ll see all year. So convincing is she that you almost entirely forget she is acting. They’re surrounded by some excellent support, namely Vinaite and Caleb Landry Jones, the latter of which seems to be (along with Three Billboards) moving away from the douchebag roles and into the good guy roles.
I’m writing this review a week and a half after seeing it, and every so often I’ll think of a single fragment from the film and marvel at how dense and alive that moment feels. That’s something that allows The Florida Project to be near the very top of a long list of great art that we’ve been blessed to witness this year. Don’t miss it.