The opening credits of The Florida Project set Kool & the Gang's ubiquitous "Celebration" to a static shot of a bright pink wall. It's a microcosm of Sean Baker's characters: tirelessly — even annoyingly — in pursuit of "good times" in the face of crippling stasis. Michael Jackson's "Off the Wall", to cite another late-disco anthem, would prove too on-the-nose because it explicitly refers to the 9-to-5 grind that these characters strive so hard to push out of mind. Sean Baker, seamlessly transitioning from iPhone to 35mm like a band leaping from an indie to a major with no hiccups, again displays a deft touch at establishing a milieu neither cloying or condescending. If Donut Time represented the idyllic haven for Tangerine's characters, the ever out-of-reach Magic Kingdom is the zenith of youthful zeal here. Except the kids in Project make a paradise out of wherever they happen to be: ice cream shops, abandoned homes, motel parking lots. That peripheral Disney association could actively inform each moment of Baker's film, except he doesn't make it that easy. Like the mundane horrors of poverty, it's placed just out of view from the bubbly sassmouths so when it does suddenly flood into their lives, it's overwhelming. The mic drop tradeoff between film and video is an approximation of when your brain surges with halcyon reveries of your best childhood memories. The good times.