Ode to a Title Sequence: The Florida Project
I’m a nerd for words. I’m a major nerd for how words look on things. Not just fonts, but how the words spread across a book cover, how the appetizers on a menu are laid out, and--of course--the look of a title sequence and title card. The funny thing about title cards is that you don’t really notice them if they are boring, or if they are absent. Did you know that Christopher Nolan doesn’t really do opening credits often? I didn’t! Do you have a long list of favorite title cards? I don’t! Long gone are the days when every movie started by listing the cast and crew, giving the viewer a clear idea of what is to come. That’s why I think it is time to shout out a title sequence that shows the potential of the lost art: Sean Baker’s The Florida Project (2017).
Okay, so I’m a little biased, because I just love this movie as a whole. An egregious snub for Best Picture at the Academy Awards, The Florida Project is about the parts of the theme park mecca of Orlando that you won’t see on a commercial. Moonee is a six year old girl living in a sleazy motel with her young mom, an establishment designed and painted to look like a bootleg castle. As the darker side of motel living is slowly exposed to the viewer, Moonee is (seemingly) oblivious to her living situation, discovering pockets of light and adventure in the Sunshine State. This includes exploring with her friends, and finding protection from a harsh reality by the motel’s kind manager (an incredible Willem DaFoe). The movie deftly walks a tightrope between the truth of Moonee’s childhood with her wonder and naivety. It absolutely blew my mind when I first watched it, and it’s one of those movies that worms into your brain and your consciousness. I think of it often.
The opening scene of the film isn't on YouTube, so here's the trailer which you should definitely watch too!
I think at least a small part of the reason why I still can’t shake The Florida Project is because of the title sequence. After a short but establishing opening scene, introducing us to Moonee and her two friends, a familiar tune starts grooving. You know it well: Kool and the Gang’s “Celebration” has been played at every wedding, sweet sixteen, and backyard barbecue since the 1970s. To me, there isn’t one memory tied to this song. It’s more of a conglomeration of fun (dancing, celebrations, snacks!) and embarrassment (have you ever stood in a circle with your friends at a middle school dance?) It’s nostalgia in its purest form, and it’s near universal.
Along with this song, all we can see is a purple wall. It’s the same type of wall that you stared at in your elementary school classroom as you tried to remember your times tables. It’s the same wall that you look at during Back to School Night for your kid’s kindergarten class and say, “I don’t remember this school being so old and gross.” To make up for the divots and bumpiness, the wall of this castle-themed motel is painted a bright, disconcerting shade of purple. It’s not Barney purple, and doesn’t quite hit as lavender. It’s a weird purple. It’s a color that you remember from that one time you went over a girl’s house who was a school friend, but not really an outside-of-school friend. You go there and you notice the walls are too purple, and she has too many horse figurines, and you don’t think you are going to ask her mom if you can play anymore, but you are trying to make the best of the afternoon. The pairing of this wall and this song make you cringe and smile all at once.
Of course, words start to fill the screen, white cursive bouncing off of the lilac (??) walls. It’s a font that’s familiar and fun but it makes you wonder, “Isn’t this a drama? This doesn’t feel like a drama.” We get names and names and a title: The Florida Project. It’s the absolute perfect start to a movie filled with hope and fear, sadness and laughter, anger and sympathy. It’s ugly and gorgeous and unforgettable. The Florida Project proves that title sequences matter.
(The Florida Project is currently available for streaming on Netflix, and is so so so good.)