Last week, I walked into a screening of Anora with high expectations but almost no clue what it was about, deciding to let the film surprise me instead of digging up every detail beforehand. I can happily report back that it did not disappoint. I guess that shouldn’t be surprising, given its countless award nominations, Palme d’Or win, 96% on Rotten Tomatoes and mostly stellar reviews on Letterboxd. Â
Anora, or Ani, is a Russian-American stripper struggling in Brooklyn. It’s just another night working when she meets Ivan, or Vanya, the spoiled son of a Russian oligarch who’s on vacation and partying in his father’s mansion. Ani and Vanya couldn’t be greater opposites; yet, they click on a shared urge to escape their lives, and end up crossing paths in the most unlikely way. Â
Director Sean Baker could have made this the Cinderella story it starts out to be: two kids from completely different lives fall in love, the poor girl is swept off her feet into a world of luxury living and they live happily ever after. Instead, Baker continued his diligent legacy of honoring and destigmatizing sex workers in his work, and made this a much more meaningful story that isn’t very happily ever after.
Baker made sure to talk to many sex workers when making Anora, something directors have historically not done. Consulters for Anora, sex workers themselves, attributed to a more honest portrayal of the industry. Even real life sex workers were hired to be in the film. In films, sex workers are often seen as lesser than; whether they be hookers, victims, or people without morals or dreams. Sean Baker’s commitment to complete authenticity for a touchy subject that is constantly portrayed in inauthentic ways is what makes the movie raw, empowering, and worthy of an audience.Â
Anora gives power back to sex workers like Ani, but also makes her human. She’s a beautiful woman, yes, but she also hustles and is proud of what she does. She isn’t punished for being a sex worker nor celebrated for getting out of the industry– she ends the movie right where it began; using her talent in the only way she knows how (I won’t spoil, but wow, that last scene is insane). She attracts Vanya because of her skill and experience, and she stays in control and fights back even when things don’t go her way. We get to see her career as real work, an art that requires skill. We get to see how she faces violence and discrimination. And most importantly, we get to know who she is beyond her career.Â
You can’t ignore the fact that, while Sean Baker is a steadfast advocate for sex work, he is still just a man. He will thus never understand a fundamental part of what it means to be a woman in this industry; only a real sex worker could. However, he makes it so the male gaze is not overpowering in this movie, and that’s something. Even in stripping scenes, Ani’s face is what is highlighted, not her body. All the sex scenes are quick because they are not what is important; instead, the longest scenes (that are really quite long) are intense moments filled with emotions that aren’t lust.Â
In a sea of tired tropes and exploitative portrayals, Anora refuses to flatten its characters or sensationalize their stories. Instead, it presents Ani as a fully realized person, whose strength and vulnerability shine through in equal measure. Anora doesn’t just tell a story—it challenges the way we see sex work on screen, leaving audiences like myself with something to think about long after the credits roll on in silence… Go watch it!