A Bittersweet Adventure

The filmmakers behind “The Florida Project’’ tell how they settled on Orlando for a story about scrappy “welfare motel” kids.

- Roger Moore

IRLO BRONSON HIGHWAY, U.S. 192 HEADing into Kissimmee, is the Greater Orlando that most tourists rarely see and locals often avoid.

We might venture to one of the established non-Disney attractions, but along the way we joke about the tacky architecture, the the congested roads and the naked commerce of the Disney-driven strip just west of the city. But few of us take a hard look at the garishly painted fifth-hand motels, often the haunts of Central Florida’s poor, some of whom might find work catering to the tourist trade peddling T-shirts or “discounted” theme park tickets. Many spend their nights, weeks and months in living quarters that could be called Cinderella’s Slums.

That’s the setting of The Florida Project, a much-praised and honored indie film that tells the story of at-risk but resilient and enterprising “welfare motel” kids, growing up in the seedy borderlands of Orlando theme parks they never enter. The film opened in early fall—enjoying an extended run at Maitland’s Enzian theater—and has generated awards buzz that should magnify its impact as nominations for the Oscars, Critics’ Choice, Golden Globes and Independent Spirit Awards are announced.

Director Sean Baker (Tangerine) says he’s wanted to do “a modern Little Rascals,” a movie about poor kids finding rude, mischievous fun where they can in the New American Depression, just as the original “Rascals” were children of the Great Depression. And his frequent collaborator—screenwriter Chris Bergoch—had just the place in mind, a place not too far from where his mother relocated from New Jersey a dozen years ago.