'Star Wars: The Last Jedi' Review: It's Still a Jedi-Level Task to Balance the Old With the New

I am very aware that my writing a review for this movie may largely be a pointless exercise.

The good majority of you may not even make it to this sentence, whether for very worthwhile reasons of not wishing to come upon any spoilers (none here) or just already knowing that you'll be seeing this movie anyway, so why bother with cluttering your head with someone else's opinions ahead of time? The valiant film critic presses on in the hopes that providing primer thoughts will enhance your epic viewing experience.

Actually, here's a spoiler: in Star Wars: The Last Jedi, there are these things called "porgs" which are these little land creatures with the biggest eyes you've ever seen and cutest caw you've ever heard. These porgs live on the island where we last saw new Jedi Rey (Daisy Ridley) locate the mythic Luke Skywalker (Mark Hamill) in hopes of having the recluse train her in the ways of The Force at the end of this trilogy's reboot, The Force Awakens. Seriously, these little things' DNA seems to be "the most freaking adorable little things that exist in all of space," – like if a penguin mated with Grumpy Cat (eat your heart out, BB-8).

But what are the porgs' relevance to The Last Jedi, a mostly fan-servicing second act in the rebooted trilogy? Well, their inclusion to this story points to a line that Dark Side of The Force pledge Kylo Ren (Adam Driver) speaks in the movie (don't worry people, it's in the trailer too): "Let the past die." While Kylo's moody plea to get Rey to leave all previous allegiances to the Rebellion, the Jedi – whatever have you – and join him in a galactic takeover, it's a sentiment that couldn't be further from the commercially minded intentions that Emperor Disney has laid out in their new ownership of the Star Wars universe. While the porgs might be cute eye candy to add another level of new to this story, the story itself is nearly note-for-note exact to where George Lucas' original trilogy tracked with The Empire Strikes Back, here remixed for a new generation. In this reboot in this galaxy of "far far away" land, we know where we've been and we know where we're going.

As a lifelong Star Wars fan (who brought his light-sabers into the theaters when the prequels were released), I'm happy to report that The Last Jedi doesn't not satisfy Star Wars fans.

Much like Empire, The Last Jedi also advances two different pieces across the chess board: the story of young Jedi-in-training Rey and the deterioration of the Rebellion fighters, here matched against General Hux (Domhnall Gleeson) and Supreme Leader Snoke (a CGI Andy Serkis). However, the struggle is in the great balancing of all things in this universe from all moments in time: the balancing of the old and the new, of clunky duty and inspired new discovery. To this end, more characters are added to this fight: There's the return of our old-old favorites – Luke Skywalker (Mark Hamill), sister General Leia Organa (Carrie Fisher, in her final role with much to do); our new-old favorites – Jedi-in-training Rey (Daisy Ridley), Finn (John Boyega) and Poe (Oscar Isaac) who continue to lead The Resistance; and our new-new favorites – Vice Admiral Amilyn Holdo (Laura Dern), huckster DJ (Benicio Del Toro) and Resistance fighter Rose (Kelly Marie Tran). All characters continue to lock into the grid in neat configurations, but like a kid with their growing number of toys, when you go to pick up one set of action figures, the quicker you must also put them down to keep playing with the rest. And really, the table is only so big to fit everything to begin with.

It's all a task that would make a service droid like R2-D2's head spin. But Jedi Master Rian Johnson, who has announced that he will be writing and directing a new trilogy of Star Wars films after The Last Jedi (are new faces teased in this film?), shows he has enough directorial vision and force to take over piloting duties the J.J. Abrams got off the ground with The Force Awakens (interestingly enough, Abrams is set to return to land the ship with the conclusion of the final film). It's only a bit of a let-down to feel how Disney-fied the Star Wars world now is (it's a lot funnier then I thought it would be), really Johnson is beholden to keep this ship on its trajectory of another classic Joseph Campbell penned hero's journey.

At the end of the day, I guess I'm not trying to say that The Last Jedi is not a fun space epic. As a lifelong Star Wars fan (who brought his light-sabers into the theaters when the prequels were released), I'm happy to report that The Last Jedi doesn't not satisfy Star Wars fans. In fact, there are a good number of images and sequences that suck the air right from the room and are sure to make fans do back-flips in their chairs. While it feels so fully-stuffed that it all might just explode like any of the endless spaceships here do and whose remains must now float and litter the world above, The Last Jedi, like its porgs, adds enough new fun here to reach its end.

. 'Star Wars: The Last Jedi' is rated PG-13 for sequences of sci-fi action and violence.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q0CbN8sfihY


'The Shape of Water' Review: Let Yourself Be Swept Away in Del Toro's Fantasy Romance

Imagine the timeless love story Beauty and the Beast set in 1960s Cold War America, and the beast is an amphibian-man desired by the U.S. and Russia for weapon-utilizing purposes.

Here you have director Guillermo Del Toro's latest film; the lovely, The Shape of Water, or the basic outline, at least. The special ingredient in this affectingly heart-filled film is its achingly dutiful ode to classic romantic movies of the past. The Shape of Water feels like the ever-magisterial Del Toro was swept up in the same intoxicating aroma that spellbound director Damien Chazelle with his Hollywood backlot-homage, La La Land. Del Toro, of Mexican heritage, is also fully channeling not just the American Studio romance movie but waves of French cinema as well, fully-embracing the cinema of old to tell this story of new. This holiday season, let the feel-good, achingly beautiful The Shape of Water color your heart anew – even if that color is a sea-foam green much like our fin-filled friend.

Audiences should know (and not mind) that in the classical tradition, this period piece does away with an intricate storyline for a more classic, familiar one. And why should it be anything but a simple tale of two star-crossed lovers? Anything more would weigh down this otherwise beautifully buoyant film, whose best quality is its lightness which keeps the fireplace warm. This tone and spirit stem directly from the performance of Sally Hawkins who plays Elisa, a mute (not deaf) janitor who works at an underground facility in 1960s Baltimore. Meek in demeanor as she works alongside her co-worker, Zelda (Octavia Spencer), she's clearly gotten comfortable with her unnoticed lifestyle. She silently and deftly soft-shoes through the halls to the film's beautifully cinematic score (Del Toro has said that The Shape of Water was first designed to Jon Brion's score for Punch-Drunk Love, his favorite Paul Thomas Anderson film, if that clues you in on what Del Toro is trying to do here.)

The film is about two creatures who won't let anything or anybody stand in their way. And in this day and age, that's something that should be applauded.

Living her routine lifestyle, which includes waking up in her one-bedroom apartment, enjoying herself in the tub, and clocking in for work, suddenly become upended when Elisa actually meets "the asset" – the Amphibian Man resembling the creature from the Black Lagoon. A timid courting begins between both silent creatures. She teaches him to sign simple phrases to communicate while the Amphibian is chained in his iron-cast tank while also enjoying late-night lunches of hard-boiled eggs and jazz records.

But as we all know, the kindred-spirits-finding-companionship story needs its villain, which Michael Shannon deliciously delivers as Strickland, a hell-bent overseer of the facility and self-appointed torturer of the asset. The film plays to its expected path – Elisa sets in motion a plan to break the creature free with help from her also sheepish illustrator neighbor (played by a wonderful Richard Jenkins – seriously, this whole cast rocks!). Conventional and comforting, but also adventurous and erotic (sensual scenes between Elisa and the Amphibian man are not shied away from), The Shape of Water is everything we wish the film would be.

Del Toro has shown with his previous work that he can create some of the best fantasy-creature movies ever made, like the aforementioned modern-day masterpiece Pan's Labyrinth which showed his dark extraction of children's fantasy, as well as comic book shoot-em-ups like Hellboy. But where those films were considerably more action-filled, The Shape of Water is decidedly affection-filled and sure to imprint a soft smile on doting audience's faces. Do yourself a favor this holiday season, and let yourself get swept away in the lyrical and loving The Shape of Water with a loved one in theaters. For a film about two creatures who won't let anything – politics, danger, or the fact that they're two different species – stand in their way, in these otherwise cynical times that's something that audiences should let themselves snuggle up to.

119 min. 'The Shape of Water' is rated R for sexual content, graphic nudity, violence, and language. Opening this Friday at the Landmark and ArcLight Hollywood.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=368_ovPsJk8


'Jim & Andy: The Great Beyond': Jim Carrey Conjures Kaufman

Jim Carrey has played a lot of out-of-this-world characters in his lifetime, but devoted audiences are likely unaware of the one role that Carrey committed so deeply to playing that he remained in character for the entirety of the film’s shoot (even when the cameras stopped rolling). Such a thing would be nearly impossible to imagine. Right?

Audiences will now be able to witness this feat in the new documentary, Jim & Andy: The Great Beyond - Featuring a Very Special, Contractually Obligated Mention of Tony Clifton. Jim & Andy captures the period of time after the newly minted A-list movie star wrapped three iconic movies that would define his career: Ace Ventura: Pet DetectiveThe Mask, and Dumb and Dumber. Carrey followed those hits by transforming (with Herculean might) into Andy Kaufman in the 1999 biopic, Man on The Moon.

The film reveals that Carrey simply let Andy "take over" to make Man on the Moon and that he was merely "the vessel" channeling the spirit of Andy Kaufman. It's amazing to see the accompanying footage of Carrey uncut, as he upends the production at every turn as the antic-prone Kaufman, torturing the crew to our gleeful delight. It's more than a treat to see every shade of Kaufman that Carrey conjures up: there's bashful and trepidatious Andy, meek and bumbling as Latka the Foreign Man ("Thank you very much"), there's tantrum-throwing Andy who bemoans Man on the Moon director Milos Forman as well as Studio execs to their faces, there's rabble-rouser Andy who tortures Kaufman's former faux-foe, wrestler Jerry Lawler, incessantly (which Lawler takes in stride, until he doesn't), and of course, his most taxing persona, the repugnant lounge-act and drunkard Tony Clifton, who stirs the most agitation of all – much to the audiences delight and Kaufman's giddy.

Accompanying the on-set footage is a long-form interview with present-day Carrey. Wearing a leather jacket and Burning Man beard, he recounts this chapter of his past with enough distance to provide worthy insight. The juxtaposition of seeing the Carrey of now recount the antics of the Carrey of then proves an interesting mind shift. The new Carrey is seemingly content with his place in the universe and attempts to rationalize the weight of human depression and ego. This makes for a profound meditation on celebrity and ego perception, a fitting study for this internet age.

Ultimately, 'Jim & Andy' is a reflection of a time spent in a sandbox, safely; but now the toddler is wise enough to realize that there's no stopping the sand from slipping through the hourglass, and finally trying to come to peace with that.

The events leading up to Carrey's inevitable stardom left him so spiritually unfulfilled that battles with depression soon followed. So it comes as no surprise that the lure of playing Kaufman (who deconstructed and dismantled the idea of comedy itself) provided solace and the opportunity to exercise all of the things Carrey was conflicted about, fame and performance, within a performance itself. This escape play-therapy vanishing act doesn't appear to be stroking his own ego as much as it shelters it, hiding it away entirely.

Perhaps just as amazing is the accompanying behind-the-scenes footage and that so much of it exists. We learn that Universal (the film's studio company) commissioned the footage to be shot for press kit use but ended up shelving it after they thought that people seeing Carrey wreak havoc on set would make him look like "an asshole." Ultimately, the footage was found in Carrey's private Los Angeles office by filmmaker Spike Jonze (a producer on the film) who recognized that there was a movie to be made in this mad peek behind the curtain.

Much like the actor, the role the actor played, and the means the actor took to play the role, Jim & Andy: The Great Beyond is either an indulgent, self-satisfying work, or it gets exactly at the heart of how we construct our identities and who we believe we are. It's profound to see any one person disappear into a character and questions our beliefs of where performance ends and where truth exists. Maybe this documentary is nothing more than the self-inflicted tortures laid upon by a comedian, already an oddly-wired species of people whose displays of entertainment are fueled by their insecurities. Nonetheless, Jim & Andy is part satiating behind-the-scenes movie, part psychological study of the ego, and an endlessly fascinating watch. Ultimately, Jim & Andy is a reflection of a time spent in a sandbox, safely; but now the toddler is wise enough to realize that there's no stopping the sand from slipping through the hourglass, and finally trying to come to peace with that.

'Jim & Andy: The Great Beyond - Featuring a Very Special, Contractually Obligated Mention of Tony Clifton' is not rated. 94 minutes. Now streaming on Netflix.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kB15UFO5ebA


'Titicut Follies' Review: Harrowing Doc Depicting Institutional Failings Remains Relevant

Fifty years ago, one documentary exposed the systemic shortcomings within an institution and not only led to the correcting of its internal failings, but became one of the most important films ever made by doing so.

Today, the act of exposing institutional failings remains an act as relevant as ever before, given the events of widespread sexual misconduct within the entertainment industry. In Titicut Follies, celebrated documentary director Frederick Wisemen's film debut, Wiseman explores the shortcomings of Bridgewater State Hospital, a correctional facility for the criminally insane in which abuse and neglect for the inmates' health and well-being was captured to shocking effect. In fact, the film was met with so much shock upon its release that it was banned to the general public for twenty-three years and made available only to the medical community for educational purposes. Today, Titicut Follies can be viewed in the public sphere and was most recently programmed at this year's AFI Film Festival upon its anniversary.

In this day and age where we're all so aware of our own digital footprints and the presences we leave behind, it's an odd thing to see the officers in charge appearing so unaware of how compromising their actions are and how they will be read on camera. The techniques and behaviors used throughout the film range from questionable to outright mortifying, including the incessant verbal abuse inflicted towards the inmates as well as the altogether bypassing of hygienic or safety protocol in numerous instances. Witnessing these moments as a collective audience makes it clear that the facility not only keeps people trapped in their madness but actively added to the decline of their mental health, a point that one inmate rationalizes out loud to a review board before he is simply prescribed an increased dose of tranquilizers as treatment.

While it's uncomfortable to watch, 'Titicut Follies' is not only one of the most controversial documentaries of all time, but an extremely important film and essential piece of history for how it ultimately influenced social justice movements in the legislation it created.

Shot on black and white film-stock, Titicut Follies is fully engrossing, much of that being in the way of how Wiseman captures the inmates on camera in both of-the-moment field recordings and in interviews. Zooming in tight on their faces – vacant, toothless, glassy-eyed, and altogether lost in thought – Wiseman successfully challenges the audience to see them as more than just criminals and as humans desperately in need of legitimate professional treatment. This makes for compelling viewing that shows the underlying tragedy to it all.

While it's uncomfortable to watch, Titicut Follies is not only one of the most controversial documentaries of all time, but an extremely important film and essential piece of history for how it ultimately influenced social justice movements in the legislation it created. Perhaps its greatest achievement is how it demands that we acknowledge the issues that may have previously been overlooked and unknown before, leading to the greatest universal lesson that it ultimately evokes: empathy for those that suffer from institutional malpractice and for those who are still victims of it behind closed doors.

'Titicut Follies' is not rated. 84 minutes. Available to purchase here.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FlKUYY9MYQM&t=10s

 


'Sweet Virginia' Review: Powerful Performances Ground this Pulpy Thriller

Sweet Virginia isn't so much sweet as it is deadly serious as the film's two lead actors – a gritty Christopher Abbott and Jon Bernthal – fully tap into. Which is what makes the whole thing so damn fun.

These macho men get to play two troubled dudes whose lives intertwine when a murder leaves a messy trail behind. Bernthal stars as Sam, a former rodeo champion who controls his shaking hand and normal life while dating Bernadette (Rosemarie Dewitt) and managing a motel. His life changes when he rents a room to Elwood (Abbott), a young man whose violent introduction in the film's opening scene leaves us wondering what sort of danger he won't put himself in. The film is a moody piece of pulp thriller action and fun to squirm in your seat through. Audiences seeking out this dark and gritty filmmaking will likely get their fix of tense action.

It's a subdued slugfest between Bernthal, who will soon come to be best recognized in his starring role as the Marvel Comics vigilante in Netflix's "The Punisher" and Abbott, best known as the actor who walked away from the hit HBO series "Girls" to pursue more dramatic art-fare like James White, which showed his Brando-reaching ambitions. When these two share the screen, which is the film's biggest draw and likely the best part, it feels both intense, like panthers circling each other waiting for the other's guard to slip so they can attack, and also a bit wooden, as if their performances keep bumping into each others'. What might better distinguish their relationship is if Bernthal as Sam played up his former stuntman struggling to live a normal life to counter Abbot's Elwood, who could have also turned the dial up a bit to play a more unpredictable live-wire character.

Come for the pulpy thriller that you know you're going to get, stay for the unexpected pairing of powerhouse performances.

Written by Benjamin and Paul China, the film is tight but there's not a lot inherently happening that makes it deep besides these actors tussling it up a bit. The last bit of life force not drained by Abbott and Bernthal goes to the combined efforts of Rosemarie Dewitt and Imogen Poots, who both shine in these dark worlds. You won't see them holster any guns or command any scenes, as their passive characters both defer to Sam and Elwood respectively.

In only his second feature film, Jamie M. Dagg gets the tone down right – it feels so dense and full of tension with what little he's really doing here. Dagg proves he knows how to utilize production restraints to what is an essential element of the genre with, more often than not, a micro-budget. This includes a nondescript location in the middle of nowhere, a handful of characters (seriously, where is everyone else in this town?), and a whole lot of silence. But these elements are handled so well that it makes watching from start to finish a fine time. In Sweet Virginia, come for the pulpy thriller that you know you're going to get, but stay for the unexpected pairing of powerhouse performances.

93 min. 'Sweet Virginia' is rated R for violence, some strong sexuality, language, and drug use. In theaters today.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jz3E_CCaAXo


Greta Gerwig's 'Lady Bird' Will Easily Win Your Heart

There's a word that describes the infectiously lovable Lady Bird, and it's one that best characterizes the film's writer and director as well: original. Delightfully, achingly original.

Having won over art-house audiences after starring as Noah Baumbach's flighty blonde muse in films Frances Ha and Mistress America, indie darling Greta Gerwig asserts herself as an equally gifted storyteller with her loose but confident directorial debut, Lady Bird. Gerwig manages to do more than just tell the story of a spunky and spirited high school youth entering young adulthood in small-town Sacramento. She also validates the "Dilemma of the Young Person" as more than just a teenage angst-filled journey, but a constant striving for identity and the self-inflicted struggle of one's calling to be original, or, to be "an original."

I'll just go ahead and say it now – Lady Bird is one of the most spirited and enjoyable films of the year, and you would be doing yourself a favor to see it at your soonest opportunity.

Lady Bird is a laugh a minute – sometimes even quicker – as we follow our punky protagonist, high school senior Christine McPherson (Saoirse Ronan). Her restless nature colors the whims of her world as much as her dyed red-streaked hair colors her quirky appearance (the film takes place in 2002, so the look and fashions are one step delayed). The film weaves through all of the moments of Lady Bird's life – auditioning for the school musical, the butterflies of a budding relationship and becoming intimate with a boy (Lucas Hedges), and applying to liberal arts schools on the east coast. The latter is an essential escape Lady Bird feels she needs to break out of her confining and lifeless environment. All this is experienced with her best friend (Beanie Feldstein) and under the critical eye of her mother (Laurie Metcalf) who, when not criticizing each of her quirks, reminds her of the family's financial constraints and its effect on her dreams.

If directorial debuts are the best revelation of the true spirit of the filmmaker, then it should come as no surprise that Greta Gerwig's first feature film soars.

Saoirse Ronan, who swaps her native Irish accent for a NorCal attitude, is ferociously fun as Lady Bird, a sort of female equivalent of Max Fischer from Rushmore. They don't set out to necessarily upset the establishment, but do so out of necessity to their natures. Like Fischer, precociously punky and unapologetically flawed, Lady Bird's shortcomings stem from trouble with friends and family and her unwillingness to blend into the background.

Lady Bird is infectiously funny and so pure-spirited that it will leave you emotionally complete. The laughs ring true, and so do the heartache and despondency. If directorial debuts are the best revelation of the true spirit of the filmmaker, then it should come as no surprise that Greta Gerwig's first feature film soars.

'Lady Bird' is rated R for language, sexual content, brief graphic nudity and teen partying. 93 minutes. Now playing at AMC Century City, The Landmark, and ArcLight Theaters.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cNi_HC839Wo

 

 


'The Meyerowitz Stories (New and Selected)' Review: Adam Sandler Shines in Baumbach's Latest

Noah Baumbach has lept from the artsy French New Wave Frances Ha to the comedy Mistress America to a fully indulgent comedy/drama in The Meyerowitz Stories (New and Selected).

In the typical Baumbach movie, it's clear that he admires the liberal arts socialite life as much as he likes to poke at with its nose in the air. The Meyerowitz Stories (New and Selected) is a familial drama centered around three adult children and their father who come together in New York for an event that celebrates his artistic work.

Dustin Hoffman is fantastic as Harold Meyerowitz, the stubborn bygone man of self-given importance who would never let the rest of the world see him as struggling. Ben Stiller, returning to another Baumbach production after last seeing him as anxiety-laden Roger Greenberg in Greenberg, plays Matthew, Harold's thriving businessman son who isn't bogged down by his father's troubles. Elizabeth Marvel plays Jean, the mousey and reserved yet artistically inclined sister.

Taking the lead amongst the players is Adam Sandler as Danny, who is always a delight to see in a more seriously-taken role. His failed marriage aside, he also struggles with a chronically worsening condition that he ignores. Sandler's character construction is one of an unfulfilled middle-ager, un-pretension, and on the verge of rage.

...Baumbach commits to the joke that the more intelligent the family, the more they wrap themselves up in their own minutia and make even greater dysfunction.

The Meyerowitz Stories is chaptered with shared scenes showing the personal relationships of each son and father. It feels like the kind of movie that would take place if the kids from The Squid and the Whale grew up and sprouted their own dysfunctional families, and could also be a cousin to Wes Anderson's The Royal Tenenbaums (which perhaps Baumbach has made his version of children grown under the roof of bohemian socialites who, now adult, struggle to connect with their parents and themselves). The dialogue feels stageplay screwball, like a Woody Allen film, with cyclical jokes drawing attention to the farce. Finally, player piano accompaniment from Randy Newman keeps the whole thing whimsical.

Baumbach's film is smart, funny, tender and affecting. If it doesn't tire you out that, again, Baumbach commits to the joke that the more intelligent the family, the more they wrap themselves up in their own minutia and make even greater dysfunction. The film should play cozy for those who will be watching from the comfort of their couches, which is now available to stream on Netflix.

The Meyerowitz Stories (New and Selected) is a film that's equally high and low art, which Baumbach seems to knead and bend in play-dough fashion, perhaps secretly grappling with a sense of art that imbues importance without being too self-important.

'The Meyerowitz Stories (New and Selected)' is rated TV-MA. 112 minutes. Now streaming on Netflix.


'The Florida Project': Treat Yourself To This Moving, Magical Testament To Childhood

In 2014, Boyhood stunned audiences by showing a boy growing up and coming of age over a 12-year span.

The film's depiction of childhood captured these universally familiar moments so simply, so beautifully. The naturalness of such well-chosen non-actors conjured up a sense of cinema verité magic in a way that most movies cannot. Another indie film that re-captures this sense of magic is this year's The Florida Project, in theaters this Friday. Writer/director Sean Baker, whose previous film Tangerine (which was shot on an iPhone), tells the story of childhood and the theme of limitless boundaries that either dance around reality or run straight into it.

Quite simply, The Florida Project is a story about kids being kids. Taking place at an extended stay motel where folks and families of all types live while they scrape together next month's rent, the kids scurry through the stairs and parking lot with a sense of boundless energy that leaps off the screen and into audiences' hearts. We follow one precocious six-year-old girl, Moonee (Brooklynn Prince), and friends over one mostly-unsupervised summer. They run, play, and cause mischief throughout a string of motels (called the Magic Castle motel and Wonderland Inn) where they live with their financially-strapped single mothers. Their general safety is overseen by the motel's manager Bobby (Willem Dafoe), who, despite needing to clean the grounds and the bed bugs, keeps an eye on the group of little ankle biters before they zoom off.

To execute a film like this, putting your trust in one largely unproven young star for the audience to follow, would seem like an impossible task – and yet it's not for Baker, whose casting of Brooklynn Prince makes the film soar. Prince as Moonee is a petite package of rambunctiousness and non-stop energy (which I can attest is her real-life self, seeing her run aimlessly while playing "Marco Polo" at an after party for the film). But although she's sugar-hopped and manners-deprived, it's not Moonee's fault. She is being raised by Halley (Bria Vinaite), a single mother who could easily pass as her older sister.

'The Florida Project,' a beautifully photographed film with such natural performance, is a gentle reminder that while wonderland might be a myth, it's the wonder of childhood that makes living magical.

Halley is pierced, tattooed, and stoned, and encourages her child's untethered ways– for who is she but a grown up child herself? Moonee is always brimming with life and charisma, which makes her interactions with Bobby heartwarming ones. This beautiful guardian from afar relationship is brought to life by Willem Dafoe, whose often manic-obsessed performance is dialed all the way down, and he shines in such a humanist light that it must be remembered come Awards season. Dafoe also navigates working with the non-actors beautifully, lending the soft and patient heart that sees him stand as paternal to young Moonee when things go south for her parent.

Director Sean Baker stages these otherwise ordinary moments to give the whole thing fantastic and cinematic flair. We get sucked into the point of view of these kids, where pinks and purples artfully illustrate a depressed artificiality, a run-down fantasy that can't help but draw attention to itself as the decaying American dream.

Baker, whose previous film Tangerine so eloquently captured and celebrated the fringe society that lives outside the middle-class, does so again here on an even grander scale. The Florida Project even more artfully compels audiences to recognize what Baker is showing as the most glaring hardship of all: the tragic conflict of expectation versus reality in this American life. These motels, so seedy under the weight of once-wonderful facade, live on the outskirts of Disney World itself – road signs, disheartened tourists, and knock-off merchandise further illustrate how they all live in this B-dream of a country.

These snapshots of scenes, stitched together to show the life of these characters day-in and day-out, all culminate and crash down in the film's tear-jerking final sequence that reminds us that the dream ends, and in the eyes of a child that is nothing short of heartbreaking. The Florida Project, a beautifully photographed film with such natural performances, is a gentle reminder that while wonderland might be a myth, it's the wonder of childhood that makes living magical.

115 minutes. 'The Florida Project' is rated R for language throughout, disturbing behavior, sexual references and some drug material.