Revisiting Sean Baker's The Florida Project
Sean Baker’s film, The Florida Project, penetrated my life at its release in 2017 and has lingered with me ever since; it’s just one of those movies you never forget. 2017 was my freshman year of high school, and when I first started immersing myself in the world of film. While I was watching many movies, I was watching films through the eyes of characters with narratives and arcs that started to become familiar to me. Once you start watching films, you realize how big Hollywood isn’t as creative on the internal as they are on the external. The characters, writing, point of view, colors of blockbuster films all start to fuse into one false reality.
Movies are an escape from reality, but they are also a window in. The power of cinema is being able to tell stories and show the audience a new actuality visually. When I came out of the theater at 14, I felt my mind open. Not only did the independent film blow my mind with the visuals, writing, all those technical bits and pieces, but I had never seen a story with such adult, dark themes told entirely through the eyes of a child. The unknown actors and unfamiliar environment transported me to Kimmisee, Florida, to a world I didn’t know existed but suddenly felt so real.
I could ramble on for an hour about how the brilliant colors of Orlando and characters living in the shadow of the actual magic kingdom contrast the tragic themes of poverty, the sex work trap, innocence, and loss of childhood. But after this particular rewatch, I found myself thinking more about how the visuals work hand in hand with the writing of these complex characters. In my interpretation, the rainbow of colors shown throughout the film reflects how these people living at the motel are not black and white, good or bad, guilty or innocent.
When watching this film, I thought a lot about sympathy versus judgment. Am I supposed to be sympathetic to Hailey because she’s doing everything she can to support her young daughter financially, or do I judge her for the ways she’s doing it? Do I excuse Moonee’s disrespectful and reckless behavior because of her age and situation, or do I believe she needs to be reprimanded seriously? Do I like Bobby because he is kind to Moonee, or do I think he should call the authorities and save her from a situation he knows is dire? In this film, Baker’s genius is that there is no actual correct answer to those questions because this movie contains no protagonist or antagonist. It’s just people being people. Everyone is beautiful, and everyone is ugly.
It’s shocking to see a film so perfectly capture the innocence of childhood. Moonee is at the center of the film. She is our eyes and ears. I love that Baker doesn’t abandon her reality. Many Hollywood directors take the direction of illusion and delusion when telling a child’s story; Baker simply intensifies it. He shows her misadventures and friendships in all their glory, giving us the good half of Moonee’s story. But his lens on her stays the same when he shows the bad half of her story; being locked in the bathroom, scrambling for meals, and talking to the DCF.
When Moonee’s story is told equally in positive and negative ways, Hailey’s is not. She is depicted as horrible throughout, with no regard for authority or the law. As the film goes on, Baker shows how desperate Hailey is and how blind Moonee is to all of it. As a spectator, it’s heartbreaking to see that to Moonee, Hailey is a fun Mom who takes her to hotel breakfasts and lets her buy whatever she wants at the dollar store; she’s also a Mom who makes “swimsuit selfies” an activity.
Bobby works as the film’s moral compass; as an audience member, I related to his point of view the most. His days are shown as repetitive and depressing, but also sort of romantic. He’s hard on the motel residents, but he also cares about them deeply, which is why he lets them stay. He knows how much these people are struggling, and he does what he can to protect the children and adults. He always has Hailey’s back until her breaking point, even though he knows what she’s doing is wrong. And he protects Moonee and the other motel children like they’re his own. While he yells at them about things like dripping ice cream or lingering in the lobby, he also wards off a child predator who roam the grounds of the magic kingdom motel.
The surrealism in the last scene is what truly ties the whole film together. This movie tells the hard truth about living in a marginalized community dealing with the atrocities of capitalism in the United States. Still, we see a glimpse of hope for Moonee in the last scene as she enters the blissful dreamland of the actual Magic Kingdom.
