John Ur returns this week to consider the cinematic offerings of Florida, the Sunshine State.
 
Florida is a state with a strong personality. Its name evokes images of early-bird specials, Universal Orlando, or Miami Vice. But there’s also a lot to see beyond beaches and buffets. From the edges of the Panhandle near Alabama to Miami and the Keys, the state of Florida sits very close to sea level. The highest point, Britton Hill - the lowest high point of any state - peaks at just 345 feet above the ocean. Seems like the place to be if you’re afraid of heights. It’s also the place to be if you’re into sunshine. The state’s temperature has only been recorded at zero degrees Fahrenheit once, during the Great Blizzard of 1899. Of course, the trade-off is the steady barrage of hurricanes that seem to hit the state every year. Without any large geographical features to buffer the winds, the damages are always severe.
But mountains and glaciers aren’t the only path to geographical richness. Florida is home to three national parks: the Dry Tortugas, Biscayne, and the Everglades, all rich in animal and plant diversity. The Dry Tortugas are a group of islands in the Florida Keys known for their mangroves and sea turtles. Biscayne, just outside Miami, is home to four distinct ecosystems and hundreds of colorful fish. The Everglades is a subtropical marshland, home to over 360 species of birds as well as alligators, dolphins and manatees. Though the Everglades is considered unstable because of all of the development around it, the state of Florida is making efforts to sustain it and help return some land back to its natural state. Just this year, the state agreed to purchase US Sugar’s plant and return that area back to nature.
Apart from the national parks, you can find the rest of tourist Florida - Orlando has Disney World, the coastlines have great beaches and Miami is a nightclub hotspot. But the tourist brochures won’t tell you about the downsides of Florida. The state is the third fastest-growing state in the country adding almost 1,000 new residents daily. The result is ever-increasing suburban sprawl, with property developments swallowing up large swaths of previously open and undeveloped land.
John Sayles’ 2002 movie, Sunshine State, takes a look at this issue head-on. Set in northeast Florida around Jacksonville, Sunshine State tells the story of two towns and two women, one black, one white. The women (played aptly by Edie Falco and Angela Bassett) both deal with relationship issues within their family and their lovers, but the over-arching theme, and the plot points that connect the two of them is their community of fictional Plantation Island.
Plantation Island is the movie name for the real-life Amelia Island.
And like many communities in Florida, it’s dealing with corporate
developers offering decent money for their homes and businesses. In the
case of Sunshine State, Marly (Falco) has to choose between her
father’s business - a motel and diner - and cash from a real estate
company that wishes to build a golf course and condos in the vicinity.
Desiree (Bassett) comes home after many years away to introduce her new
husband to her mother only to find that her old town might be selling
out to the developers.
This is not the first time that director Sayles has made this column. His film, Matewan, portrayed working-class Appalachia (West Virginia) better than anything else I’d seen. In Sunshine State,
he wipes the salt and sand from our eyes about the difficult decisions
that face property owners in Florida. In a review of the movie, Glenn Whitehouse describes the
Florida of Sunshine State as “an interesting case study of a place
where Americans are in effect colonizing a piece of their own
territory.” 
Tim Burton does not stray far from that same
mental location - of Florida as a series of corporate communities and
cookie-cutter houses - in Edward Scissorhands. Filmed in Lutz, Florida, Scissorhands
is an offbeat story of Edward (played by Johnny Depp) who was created
by The Inventor (Vincent Price). Unfortunately, The Inventor dies before he can give Edward hands. Like many of Burton’s films, the movie has
a certain surrealistic nature to it - a man with scissors for hands -
but for once, it’s not the setting. The development where Burton chose
to film - Carpenter’s Run - is a real place and the only modifications
made to the suburb was the painting of approximately 60 houses in
pastel colors.
The community is
meant to represent the generic suburbia of the rest of America. The
houses are all relatively the same size, with well-manicured lawns and
clean sidewalks. At first, Edward seems to fit in with the community
because of his talent for meticulous and artistic hedge clippings.
(Some of the animal figures he “created” can be found at NYC’s Tavern
on the Green.) But it’s soon obvious that no matter how much some
people try to force Edward into fitting in, he is too different for the
rest of the community and eventually he is chased back to his mansion
on the hill (à la Frankenstein).  
Florida has not been
completely remodeled in the corporate fashion of tourism as tradition.
But unfortunately, it’s headed in that direction. Much of its history
- of Native Americans, of Spanish invaders, of pirate hideaways - is
being rewritten from the authentic into the manufactured. There are
still some outskirts where you can find true Florida - Everglades and
Miami to name two - but you’ll need to do some heavy searching for the
rest. At least there’s plenty of sun and surf to keep you busy in your
travels.
Also recommended: Out of Sight
Read More:  To learn more about filming in Florida, check out the state film commission website and the non-profit FilmFlorida.org. And to find John’s other stops on the Cinematic Road Trip, go back through the archives here.
Photo: KeylimeSteve, via the Intelligent Travel Flickr pool 
