The Florida Project (2017)

What makes The Florida Project so special is the way it turns a sun-bleached strip of motels in the shadow of Disney into a whole universe—one that feels alive with childhood mischief even as adult desperation hums underneath. Sean Baker shoots with a bright, almost candy-colored realism that lets wonder and hardship share the same frame, and the result is both exhilarating and quietly devastating. Brooklynn Prince is a revelation as Moonee, all fearless imagination and sharp instincts, while Willem Dafoe brings a steady, deeply human decency that anchors the film without ever turning it sentimental. It’s not an easy watch—there’s rough language and tough situations—but if you want a drama that looks at poverty with clear eyes and a full heart, this one stays with you.

The Florida Project is aiming for a slice-of-life portrait of childhood freedom set against the harsh reality of poverty, and it nails that contrast with vivid, sun-bleached realism and a remarkable child performance. But if you need a clear plot, tidy character arcs, or a strong sense of “where this is going,” the film can feel episodic and deliberately meandering, like you’re watching moments rather than a story building to payoffs. It also doesn’t soften the adult chaos around the kids—expect heavy profanity and uncomfortable situations that are observed more than explained. If you’re patient with loose structure and want atmosphere, empathy, and Willem Dafoe quietly holding the whole thing together, it’s worth your time; if you want momentum and narrative closure, it may leave you cold.