Sean Baker is a name few people will recognize, being primarily a director of very obscure independent films. His films Prince of Broadway, Starlet, Tangerine, and even this post’s focused film The Florida Project, likewise, share their director’s obscurity with the public. I myself had never heard the name Sean Baker, let alone seen any of his films until a few years ago when my good friend took me to, what I like to call, a super-indie theater to see Tangerine (as of now I’ve seen all of Baker’s films). Yet Sean Baker is a name that deserves to be recognized, as not only is he one of the decade’s best directors, but a prime example of how much a filmmaker can accomplish with so little.
Baker’s films do not utilize large budget effects or presentations, instead focusing on ambitious, experimental cinematography, innovative stories with groundbreaking ideas, and rich, beautifully unorthodox characters. His previous film Tangerine is quite possibly the 2010s most unique film, brimming with personality, creativity, comedy and a genuineness you will not find in most films. I thoroughly enjoyed Tangerine when it first came out, yet after several years of constantly seeing reboots, remakes and rehashed story elements from past generations, I’ve grown to love the film for how incredibly original everything is in it. It hasn’t taken me as long to love Baker’s latest feature The Florida Project, and while it’s not as innovative as Tangerine, it, nonetheless, overflows with delightful personality and a rare to find authenticity.
The film center around the Magic Castle motel in Kissimmee, Florida—a makeshift projects where a variety of people live. Six-year-old Moonee (Brooklynn Prince) lives at the motel with her unemployed mother Halley (Bria Vinaite). There, Moonee spends her summer roaming around the area with her friends Scooty (Christopher Rivera), Dicky (Aiden Malik) and Jancey (Valeria Cotto)—getting into mischief much to the dismay of the motel’s manager Bobby (Willem Dafoe).
The Florida Project’s heart stems from its child actors’s genuineness—from the way they talk and act to their childlike glee, wonder, innocence, and impish nature. The film takes its time showcasing its kids being kids. There’s the natural way the children’s heads bob upward when being snarky, the way they goofily break into the SpongeBob SquarePants theme song after mentioning the show, and the way they share icecream until Scooty takes a large bite.
The opening scene has Dicky running over to Moonee and Scooty, continuously screaming out his friends’s names to the continuous reply of “What!?” until he’s close enough to talk. There’s a hysterically cute moment where the children are bumping their heads against a wall while waiting, only for Moonee to bump too hard and rub her scalp in surprise. Another scene has the children spying on a resident bathing topless, making immature boob jokes and giggling at the sight. The scene is hilarious as Bobby tries getting the resident to put anything over her breasts, all the while shouting at the giggling juveniles to “get the hell out of here!” These little moments, that end up making a big portion of the film, are as charming as they are funny.
The children act and feel 100% genuine, with their scenes feeling more like a documentary about children playing outside than a scripted plot. While watching the film, I became convinced these scenes were completely improvised—with Baker simply allowing the very young actors to do what they want while rolling the camera. An interview I found with Baker, however, proved my assumption wrong.
There were a few scenes, and I’ll tell you which ones, that were more improv. But for the most part, I have to say, we stuck pretty close to the script, we had limited hours, and Brooklynn is amazing at just learning lines. So she would come to set knowing the scenes and then sometimes if I had time I would let them deviate or I would encourage some improvisation. There were sometimes that were almost fully improv, but obviously she knew what she had to say to sell the perfume. That was literally like we were putting them in a candid camera situation—I couldn’t tell her what to expect because I didn’t know what…so going up to tourists to attempt to sell cheap perfume was entirely candid. And then of course at the end, when she’s eating at the brunch, I believe we rolled T-max, which is a full 20 minutes, which is A LOT of footage. I think we actually got through all of her scripted lines in the first minute and a half and then after that we just had time to play so we would let her improvise, we would ask her questions, we would feed her lines that we were coming up with in the moment. Like if she said for example, in the film she said, “I wish my fork was made of candy.” And then I would quickly say, “so you could eat it after you finish your meal!” and then of course they would cut my voice out, she would be smart enough not to look at me, but just to hear it and process it and be like “then, I could eat it after my meal!”…But again, I encourage improvisation and she has the skill to do it if she wants, which is crazy.
—Sean Baker
Baker’s achievement here is no simple task. It requires both great skill in writing child characters—without having them come across as unrealistic “kids written by adults”—and the child actors ability to pull off such scenes with authenticity. Most directors would either avoid making six-year-olds their story’s central focus or cast older, more experienced children to play the roles. Baker does the unthinkable, however, by both writing convincing dialogue and actions for the story’s children and casting similar-aged actors to play their roles.
The children all give outstanding performances, with Brooklynn Prince particularly doing a fantastic job as Moonee. The girl is given some notably difficult scenes to perform, including a taxing emotional finale. While I can understand how some may find Prince’s crying in the latter scene to feel a bit forced—I find it an effectively potent scene—I must emphasize that she was around six-years-old at the time of the film’s production and deserves some leeway for completing what most six-year-olds could never efficiently accomplish. If that wasn’t impressive enough, and it most certainly is, the scene was also done entirely in one take:
Interviewer: Brooklynn, in the last scene of the movie, you cry, and it’s such a beautiful moment. Can you cry on cue?
Prince: I just did it. They called out, one, two, three … and then I just did it. We did it in one take.
All-in-all, Prince leaves quite the impact, especially for such a young performer.
The Florida Project contains beautifully vivid cinematography. The motel is frequently utilized for various unique and/or lovely camera work. There’s a single take that follows the children as they run from one side of the motel to the other and a stationary shot of a rainbow above the Magic Castle. The film practically explores every inch of the motel, and by its conclusion, I was well familiarized with its structure and the places surrounding it.
One scene involves the children shutting down the Magic Castle’s electrical power, cutting to a stationary long shot of the motel where its residents gradually step out to complain until the entire unit’s outside. We see the children sneak out of the shot as Bobby moves into the scene, shouting back at the residents to give him a minute. After restarting the generator, the camera shifts to follow Bobby as the motel residents cheer him on with Bobby waving back and thanking them for their support. It’s a telling scene of the motel’s community: how they’re more than just temporary residents and Bobby’s relationship with them. Through its camerawork and exploration of the environment, The Florida Project effectively creates a sense of attachment for the Magic Castle and its community.
The Florida Project is made up of three components: exploring what it’s like to be a child, exploring the Magic Castle and its community, and the film’s main plot, that only becomes fully apparent by the finale. From a traditional storytelling perspective, the first two components are somewhat extraneous to the main plot, causing the film’s pacing to occasionally be jerky and tedious. Yet The Florida Project isn’t a traditional story, and any issues in pacing can be largely forgiven for the many aforementioned strengths brought to the film.
The film contains a very clever, deceptive usage of editing. It’s an initially bizarre pattern of repeatedly showing Moonee bathing to loud music, moving on to the next scene, and then cutting back to Moonee bathing on a different day. At first, I was confused and irritated by such strange editing (originally believing the bath scenes to be taking place all on the same day), yet—after a brief scene involving Bobby outside—began putting the pieces together as to why such sequence kept occurring. I fully realized what was happening shortly before the actual reveal, turning an initially frustrating edit into a very satisfying and impressively shrewd moment.
Bobby is an exceptionally wonderful character. To go by the film’s SpongeBob reference, Bobby reminds me of an early season Squidward—a grouchy, reclusive person with a hidden heart of gold—only more responsible. Bobby’s past is made purposely, albeit a bit confusingly vague, though it’s clear enough he's estranged from his past. One of my favorite scenes in the film, and the scene that solidifies Bobby’s good nature, involves Bobby’s conduct of a noticeably strange man trying to hang out with the motel residents’s children. It’s clear-cut what this man is and the effective way Bobby handles him is a great character moment. I especially love how a helicopter begins flying over just as the scene reaches its climax, creating an intense atmosphere as the scene shifts to a brief shot of the innocent children watching the spectacle—oblivious to what Bobby may have prevented.
As Bobby, Willem Dafoe delivers one of his best and sweetest performances—animating Bobby with his unique charisma and great comedic and dramatic skill. Despite his notable star status, Dafoe fits right in with The Florida Project’s largely green cast—standing out without overshadowing the other cast’s compelling performances. The Florida Project also offers the only place you can see Willem Dafoe having a casual conversation with real sandhill cranes, complete with a bird-related pun near the end (the scene is as amazing as it sounds).
Bobby’s relationship with Halley is one of The Flordia Project's key driving elements. There’s a love-hate relationship between the characters. Bobby is clearly peeved off at Halley’s irresponsible behavior and raising of her child, yet also has immense pity for the young adult as she’s still very much a child herself. Halley, likewise, treats Bobby with contempt—referring to him an asshole behind his back—yet calls him when in trouble to come to the rescue, which Bobby usually does. Bobby, whether he subconsciously does it or not, acts like a father-figure to Halley, just as Halley acts like a rebellious teenage daughter to Bobby.
One scene involves Bobby trying to calm Halley down, telling Halley he trusts her only for Halley to interrupt and state “do you?”—causing Bobby to briefly pause before chuckling with “You got me there.” Another scene has Bobby getting between an aggressive man and Halley—sternly explaining why the man should leave while Halley makes obscene gestures behind Bobby’s back towards the man, pretending to look innocent the moment Bobby turns around. The film does a terrific job building compassion for Halley and her situation while not excusing her incredibly irresponsible and, in general, terrible parenting. As terrible as her parenting is, however, the film equally makes clear Halley’s love and affection for Moonee, as seen in heartwarming scenes where she gives her tired child a piggyback ride and later takes her out shopping for toys.
In a decade reliant on remakes, reboots, and sequels, Sean Baker forges his own path as its most effectively pioneering director. If I were to pick a motto for The Florida Project, it’d be; “It’s the little things that matter”. The motto is a double entendre, as it refers to both the children the film is primarily focused upon and the small added touches and moments throughout. There’s an inexplicably hilarious background moment where a man in a wheelchair jaggedly goes over a speedbump. I’m not even certain the moment is supposed to be funny, but it got my friends, my brother and I laughing good. Moments such as this one, Bobby talking to the cranes, and Moonee bumping her head too hard could have easily been taken out of the film without disrupting the plot—yet doing so would remove half of what makes The Florida Project so endearing. If the children make up the film’s heart, then it’s the small added touches and moments that make up its soul.
I love The Florida Project. It contains all-around exceptional, genuine performances, including some of the best child acting I’ve seen that, whether improvised or scripted, feels entirely real without a hint of adult meddling. It’s funny, it’s charming, it’s organic, it’s heartwarming, it’s heartbreaking, it’s gorgeous to look at, it’s brimming with personality, it’s incredibly unique and it’s definitely one of 2017’s best films.
