The Florida Project: Childhood As The ‘Hidden Homeless’

The Florida Project is a Sean Baker-directed drama film showcasing a fictionalized yet realistic portrayal of a single mother and her daughter as part of the ‘hidden homeless’ living in the Magic Castle budget motel just outside of Walt Disney World. Willem Dafoe, Brooklynn Prince, and Bria Vinaite are the main cast members, playing motel owner Bobby, six-year-old Moonee, and single mother Halley, respectively. The visuals are bright and inviting, yet contrast harshly with the realities of a life where the main characters are only ever one small step ahead of homelessness. Strikingly, the film is shot almost entirely from the height of the children it features, putting their perspectives at the heart of the story. 

The visuals of the film are undeniably beautiful, from the vivid purple exterior of the motel to the vibrant attractions/shops surrounding Disney World, and the multicolored abandoned homes that Moonee, Jancey, and Scooter (the three main child characters) explore. It’s easy to see why, when their environment is so bright, the children often don’t see the dark in their lives. A scene that especially highlights this is towards the end of the film where Moonee and Jancey are standing in front of Moonee’s motel, the building is a splash of purple beneath a blue sky, and there is a rainbow arcing perfectly over the motel. The young girls talk about the gold at the end of the rainbow, and the leprechaun that won’t let them keep it; “let’s go and beat him up!” the girls decide, racing across the car park to hunt down the gold. I’ve always thought of this as a poignant metaphor for those who have the power to help those in need yet choose not to- they are the leprechauns withholding the pot of gold. In a “first-world” country, it’s horrific to think of the vast numbers of people stuck in limbo between just about being able to afford a motel room, but never having access to the resources they need to rent/buy somewhere permanent. 

A strip of abandoned houses lines a field of green in pastel pinks, yellows, and blues, as an abundance of empty living space that never quite made it all the way to fruition. Moonee, Jancey, and Scooter burn one of the pastel houses, the roaring flames a stark contrast to the calm, muted yellow of the building’s exterior. The fire is unruly and unwelcome, just like the motel’s inhabitants are made to feel, disrupting the playful aesthetic that Disney projects onto everything it builds in its fantasy world. A dome-shaped building that sells oranges is, unsurprisingly, painted orange, a jarring shade that’s so bright it's almost offensive. A towering sign advertising Futureland Inn, the motel that Jancey lives in that is close to the Magic Castle, reads “stay in the future today”, accompanied by models of old-fashioned rockets. The thought of The Florida Project being an accurate reflection of the future is disappointing, to say the least. 

The Florida Project presents the childhood of children on the outskirts of Disney World as borrowed fantasies. By this, I mean that the small sparks of joy that Moonee and Jancey experience in their lives are designed by Disney to appeal to children, but only the children that are paying customers; the fantasy land of Disney essentially bars the main child characters from taking part in the magic. Disney lets them sneak peeks at all the wonders but always makes sure they’re just out of reach unless they can pay the entry fee. The trio of children hang around the ice cream shop on the outskirts of Disney World, informing the customers that they “have asthma so we need sugar” in a scheme that always seems to end up with a tourist parent begrudgingly giving them a few dollars to share an ice cream. However, even when the children have paid for ice cream- albeit with creative means of fundraising- the shop employee still makes them feel unwelcome. When Scooter helpfully points at their ice cream and says “we’re paying customers!” the worker retorts that “I don’t care. I can’t have you bothering my customers, go, get out.”.

The exploration of children’s resilience and imagination is also well-explored in The Florida Project. Moonee is a mischievous, adventurous kid that never lets any part of her situation bring her down. Sharing a glass jar of jam and some slices of bread on the branch of a large, fallen tree, Moonee asks Jancey “do you know why this is my favorite tree?”, to which Jancey asks her why. “Because it’s tipped over, and it’s still growing,” Moonee answers, and there is something so simplistically wise about her answer that it serves as a reminder that she has lived through things at her young age that many adults never will. The tree, a wizened, twisted old trunk with flowing leaves, doesn’t conform to the state of the trees around it, yet it continues to thrive in its unconventional state. 

The wonder on the children’s faces as they watch the nighttime firework display that Disney puts on is so moving: for Jancey’s birthday they buy a single cupcake and then sit by the water in the dark to watch the display. “That’s for you,” Halley tells her, as the dark sky flashes in pinks and yellows and oranges. Halley, Moonee, and Jancey are sitting a long way away from Disney World and the fireworks they are seeing are nowhere near as bright or as big as they would be if they were actually on the park grounds, but they still find joy in its beauty. The motel children accepting the leftovers of the experiences that children who can afford to stay at Disney are having is arguably one of the most painful realizations of the whole film. The second most painful realization comes at the end of the film when social services have come to take Moonee away from Halley, and Moonee ends up escaping from them. She runs straight to Jancey’s room at Futureland Inn, and Brooklynn Prince’s performance is incredible as she sobs- the first time we have really seen Moonee feel anything but happy- to her friend that she’ll never see her again. The professional camera switches to an iPhone camera as they chase after the girls and film them sprinting through the entrance of Disney World, finally making it past the gates that have been keeping them on the outside their entire lives. The film ends on a note of hope with the girls running towards the infamous Disney palace, symbolic of youth and joy and magic. 

Overall, The Florida Project is a masterpiece in cinematography, color schemes, themes, and casting. The hidden homeless the film represents are accurately shown to be stuck between a rock and a hard place: how do you save for a deposit on a property when you’re being charged $30 dollars a night at a motel and you only earn $7 an hour? This story is about children, brilliant children, who are brave and strong and adventurous- and even though their specific stories might be fiction, there are undoubtedly Janceys and Moonees and Scooters out there that need the people who can make a difference to take action.