The Magic Kingdom

THE FLORIDA PROJECT (A) - There is a thread running through Sean Baker's latest film that injects both giddiness and dread. It's a lot like life itself.

Baker has emerged as perhaps the most talented director of our time by examining the ennui of trashed-out adults in "Starlet" and "Tangerine." Here he mixes in children, romping around southern Florida on the tourist-trap outskirts of "Disney World." It's a technicolor trip, a story with style and heart.

Baker assembles a cast of mostly newcomers, held together by Willem Dafoe as Bobby, the put-upon manager of the two-tone purple motel that will look familiar to anyone who veered a little off the beaten track in search of a cheap night's stay. Bobby has met his match in Moonee (Brooklynn Prince), an utter hellion and ring-leader of her "Little Rascals" gang, running havoc around the motel and taking off on adventures with a "Stand by Me" vibe. Moonee is a scamp, a grifter and a total smart-ass. Little Prince turns in a mesmerizing performance that will thrill you and scare you, in turns. She is a once-in-a-lifetime discovery.

Moonee's mother, Halley, barely in her 20s, is still a brat herself and totally unqualified to raise a child. Always broke, she sends Moonee off to a restaurant where a friend works and sneaks takeout food to Moonee. Halley and Moonee hawk perfume to tourists, but there also will be underhanded ways to make money, actions that can't help but raise red flags with child-protective services. As Halley, the tattooed Bria Vinaite (discovered on Instagram) has the slacker drawl, heavy lids and acne-scarred complexion of a drug addict, along with the heart-shaped lips of an inexperienced seductress. Baker captures the fraught mother-daughter relationship beautifully, finding unsettling ways to document their respective sociopathic tendencies.

Dafoe brings just the right level of resignation to his role. He is sympathetic and sometimes amused, but he also is an adult who must do the right thing at some point. When he shoos away a likely child predator, his own menace is palpable.

Meantime, Baker's visual flourishes explode all over the big screen. The Florida sky is bright, and scenes are slathered in primary colors -- bursting with blues and reds, purples and tangy orange. In one scene, Moonee and her pals romp through a shaggy field of grass that nearly glows in neon green.

Nearly every scene draws laughs from the antics of both the kids and the adults (including the wrinkled old regular who likes to sunbathe topless), but the humor always crackles with a frisson of foreboding. This is exhilarating filmmaking that embeds itself into an underserved community. It is a thrill ride that almost certainly would be banned at Disney World.