A colourful and honest portrait of life on the edge.

Full disclosure…I’m a sucker for a good coming-of-age movie. Stand by Me or Dazed and Confused, Boyhood or The Graduate; it doesn’t matter. There’s just something about them that clicks for me.

At their best, they hit on those universal truths that, regardless of era or social demographic, communicate to the insecure adolescent in us all. The ticking time bomb of approaching adulthood is unavoidable for us all, but it’s in the coming-or-age genre’s ability to perfectly capture this slow detonation of adolescence that it truly connects.

As emotionally resonant as they can be, however, the coming-of-age movie is as guilty as anyone of looking at the world through rose-tinted glasses more often than not. Sure, some films hit harder than others, yet the real-world process of growing up is rarely as easy as it’s portrayed on the big screen. No matter how awesome Ferris Bueller made it look, adolescence just isn’t that cool.

Free of the mainstream pressures, The Florida Project dispenses with the rose-tinted specks to tell a coming-of-age tale that digs deep into the nitty-gritty to shine a light on life growing up on society’s fringes. With little concern for the genre’s customary whimsy and nostalgia, The Florida Project cuts painfully close to the bone, but it’s in the film’s unexpected levity and ability to counterbalance its harsh realities, that makes it one of the finest coming-of-age dramas in quite some time.

Under the long shadow of the Magic Kingdom; precocious six-year-old, Moonee (Brooklynn Prince), and her ragtag band of playmates, court mischief and adventure in and around the brightly-coloured walls of their extended-stay motel. Over the course of one long Florida summer, Moonee and company fill their time with simple childhood wonder, imagination, and a cheeky sense of exploration; all while the adult world around them struggles through hard times.

There’s something downright bizarre about The Florida Project’s location. We’ve all seen social deprivation captured on film before, but rarely have we seen it play out amidst such overtly outlandish surroundings. Situated a stone’s throw from the dayglow capitalism of Disney World, and nestled among the area’s many peculiar tourist traps, the residents of the bright-pink Magic Castle Inn live as outliers to the American dream, yet appear stuck deep within its cogs.

As a cracked reflection on the American dream, Florida is a state of bewildering extremes and, while the bizarre locations will feel alien to many, this story really couldn’t unfold anywhere else. Painting Florida’s garish, sun-soaked landscape as a combustible melting pot of class, wealth, and race; director Sean Baker places rich and poor, young and old together in an odd and often abrasive co-existence. It’s a harsh, highly evocative environment to exist in but, by placing his young cast at its heart, Baker sets the stage for an incredibly touching, youthful, and uncompromising tale of life deep within society’s cracks.

In the long, extolled tradition of independent American directors; Sean Baker’s style is loose, raw, and nimble enough to get into those awkward corners of life that bigger films just can’t/won’t. Operating a low-down-and-dirty shooting style, Baker’s run-and-gun approach has previously led him out into the very fringes of American society, allowing him unfettered access to a uniquely American world of street hustlers, illegal immigrants, and working girls. While The Florida Project continues Baker’s decidedly indie approach, there’s a clear progression there that showcases a director burning ambition to tell small, personal stories with huge societal ramifications.

With clear flashes of indie darlings Jim Jarmusch, Stephen Soderbergh, and Spike Lee; Sean Baker is a clear child of the Sundance generation. The film’s loose structure, simple plot, and overtly conversational style are testament to an independent filmmaking aesthetic that feels charmingly haphazard.

As we crash in and out of seemingly incidental vignettes, the film’s jumbled editing may bewilder at first but, as the narrative gradually begins to pull focus, so too does the film’s emotional intent. Building to a low-key, yet devastating, finale; Baker constructs a powerful collage of seemingly innocuous events that take his low-fi indie roots and put them through the emotion wringer.

Handheld camerawork, real-life settings, and choppy editing bring The Florida Project in line with Baker’s previous projects; helping to create a highly affecting, intimate experience. Like previous films, Baker’s naturalistic methods are free of big budget padding, allowing the filmmaker free reign to the heart of their subject with maximum efficiency and impact, while allowing room for his distinctive wit to shine through.

In particular, previous film Tangerine (shot entirely on an iPhone) works perfectly as a direct feed-in to The Florida Project and works as a fantastic example of Baker’s winning formula. The two films hone in on some particularly coarse subject matter, yet it’s Baker’s unique brand of naturalistic, personable humour that allows them both to strike such an affecting chord.

At odds with the film’s stark themes, The Florida Project’s cheeky sense of fun stems primarily from its young cast; who’s myopic, child’s-eye view of the world feels naturally free of concern and dripping with intrigue. As they run, dance, kick, and spit their way through the alleyways and stairwells of their own, personal Magic Kingdom; the unadulterated joy on display is positively infectious, acting as a wonderful counterbalance to the harsh realities of the life beyond their bubble.

However, for all its indie cool and socio-political probing, The Florida Project is a deeply human film with a clear personal affection for its characters, both young and old. On the film’s adult side, newcomer, Bria Vinaite, puts in a powerful and emotionally raw performance as Moonee’s mother; one that belies her relative inexperience. It’s a real heart-on-the-line effort from Vinaite that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination, as she goes toe-to-toe with the film’s seasoned pro, Willem Dafoe.

The film’s ultimate success rides high on the charisma of the young ensemble and, without exception, they succeed in charming their way into your heart, while coaxing you into their secret, pocket universe set amidst the chaos. For anyone who’s spent time with children of this age, you’ll know just how bewildering they can be, yet this is half the charm.

Keeping with the film’s adlibbed, naturalistic style; The Florida Project young cast are all left to their own devices, as they natter and banter in the way only children can. Little of it makes a lick of sense, but it works; and the carefree innocence they exude makes for an intriguing counterbalance to the despair and desolation they’re barely insulated from.

As the film’s unlikely lead, Brooklynn Prince is an oddly magnetic presence. With a pinpoint sense of humour and a personality as vibrant as the garish walls of the Magic Castle, she bounces off the film’s adult characters like a pro, however, it’s in her chemistry with Vinaite, that The Florida Project really ticks.

It’s certainly an abrasive and unconventional mother-daughter relationship but under the rough exterior is a simple, affecting story of undying love and survival; with a mother determined to provide by any means necessary and a daughter just yearning to be close to her. It’s a deceptively complex dynamic that holds true emotional significance, while stopping short of over-sentimentality.

The Florida Project is a film unafraid of pressing some hot-button social issues and clearly has a lot to say on some enormous political matters, yet it’s a far more personal experience than that. Despite its obvious political leanings, the film is an intimate and wonderfully idiosyncratic coming-of-age drama. Dispensing with the mawkishness that can bog down the genre, The Florida Project refuses to propose any easily-digestible takeaways or profound life lessons; offering a reflective, hyper-realistic snapshot of a young girl’s all-too rapid journey into adolescence.

We live, love, and play with Mooney through a summer of hijinks and abandon but, as the season ends, and her protective bubble rapidly disintegrates; a deep, foreboding sadness begins to descend. As The Florida Project draws to a close, there’s certainly hope amidst the despair, but the numbing inevitability of Mooney’s stark situation is hard to shake. For a film that keeps its emotional cards close to its chest; The Florida Project’s final moments, as we follow Mooney into the literal and metaphorical horizon, hit especially hard.

Vivid, gritty, and heart-breaking; The Florida Project strips back the coming-of-age drama to its bare bones in a low-key look at life on society’s fringes. In true Sean Baker style, the director makes full use of his signature run-and-gun style to craft a film that oozes indie cool, while never losing sight of its heart. Witnessing the frayed edges of American society through Mooney’s carefree eyes, The Florida Project paints an oddly fluorescent picture of poverty and desperation; succeeding in finding colour amidst America’s dark extremities through an enchanting, authentic, and tenderly told tale of those cut adrift from the world Disney once imagined.