It's a slice of life so often omitted from our cultural vista. Six-year-old Moonee spends her summer mostly unsupervised in the somewhat tightly-knit community of a motel. Named the Magic Castle and painted in a vibrant purplish pink, the motel sits precariously on the border of tourist-laden Walt Disney World territory and the lands of impoverished Floridians basking and wallowing in the Everglade sun.
The story itself is wholly uninteresting; its depiction of life, however, is magnificent, particularly as it is seen through very young eyes. Moonee's world is colorful and vibrant, and she understands more about her surroundings than some of the adults might want her to. She knows exactly what her mother (Bria Vinaite) is doing -- namely, struggling to survive by any means she can -- and she knows what's expected of her by the motel manager (Willem Dafoe, in a seriously overrated role). But she also knows that she can get away with a lot more, and so she does. With her friends, other long-term "guests" of the motel, Moonee gets into all sorts of trouble.
What she learns before the end of the film, however, is that trouble is not always fun and games. After covering up the children's act of arson, Moonee's mother tries desperately to make money by stealing perfume and tickets and re-selling them and even by prostituting herself and hiding her daughter in the bathroom. It doesn't take long for us to see that the mother and daughter are remarkably similar in their efforts to enjoy life and cheat their way around responsibility, which they view as artificial and counter-productive. Unfortunately, their lifestyle clashes magnificently with the folks around them, and they quickly alienate all their friends.
I did not like this movie. Is it important? Perhaps. Is it moving? Definitely. But it's also difficult to watch, and not at all rewarding. Poor people are terrible parents, according to the simplest logic of the film, and though that message may be confused and complicated by the finale, it is the purest and most visceral takeaway. Think Beasts of the Southern Wild but with white people and much more grounded, without allegorical significance or consistent aesthetic theme.
SPOILER ALERT.
Speaking of the ending -- WOW. It was the film's saving grace. When CPS-type officials show up to investigate Moonee's mother and take the child -- seemingly violating the colorful dreamlike atmosphere in their stark dark suits and strict dialogue patter -- Moonee steps away to say goodbye to her young friend. But, together, they run away in a remarkable (and wordless) sequence that leads them into the theme park. Apparently shot from a smart phone, the scene wobbles and shakes and takes on the slightly simplified visual dynamics of altered reality as the children escape all their problems and vanish into the happiest place on earth. It's an uplifting and heartrending moment that thrills even as it horrifies, and leaves you breathless and tear-stained as the credits start to roll.
IMDb: The Florida Project
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