Anora (2024) is directed by Sean Baker and stars Mikey Madison, Mark Eydelshteyn, Yura Borisov, Karren Karagulian, Vache Tovmasyan, Paul Weissman, Lindsey Normington, Emily Weider, Luna Sofia Miranda, Vincent Radwinsky, and Brittney Rodriguez. The film follows Ani/Anora (Madison), a New York City sex worker who is one night hired by Ivan (Eydelshteyn), the young son of a powerful Russian oligarch. This begins an atypical romance where the two eventually decide to get married. When news of the marriage reaches Ivan’s parents in Russia, they see it as a stain on their family name and set out to have it annulled by any means necessary. This lights a fire in Anora who sets out to prove that although she comes from an unglamorous background, she deserves true love as much as anyone else.

The film is mostly a deep character study of Anora, and because of this, its enjoyment hinges on the quality of Madison’s lead performance. The buzz around her performance has been that it’s one of the best of the year, and I think that’s spot on. She brings the necessary combativeness that an NYC sex worker would naturally develop but also delivers moments of emotional vulnerability that would come with working in such a sexually intimate field. She also completely commits to the physicality of the performance. Some of the scenes she’s asked to do almost reach porn territory in terms of sexuality which I can’t imagine were easy on her as an actress. That being said, her commitment results in these scenes having a level of authenticity I wasn’t expecting. 

The supporting cast is great as well, but as I mentioned previously, this is mostly a one-character show. That being said, what’s so great about the supporting characters is that like Baker’s previous films, he has a keen eye for displaying the grittier/dirtier sides of American life. For example, even details such as how people smoke weed feel specific and realistic. True stoners smoke dabs/oil and, amazingly, this is the first movie I’ve seen that gets that detail right.

This is director Sean Baker’s first real foray into a more traditional film narrative and although I think it’s mostly a success, it does come with a few missteps. His previous films such as Tangerine (2015) and The Florida Project (2017) were squarely in the “slice of life” genre, but Anora takes a more hybrid approach. Although I enjoy both approaches separately, the act of switching between the two is somewhat jarring. The scenes that focus on day-to-day life just end up slowing the pace when they follow scenes of more traditional narrative. It also makes the overall story feel somewhat disappointing in the sense that the length feels far too bloated in relation to the complexity of the story. In other words, the film feels like it wastes a lot of time. Besides a somewhat slow pace at the beginning of the second act, the movie is consistently entertaining, I just don’t think a lot of these scenes are important in the grand scheme of the story/themes.

The film feels somewhat reminiscent of what the Safdie Brothers have previously done with Good Time (2017) and Uncut Gems (2019) in terms of gritty focus on the power dynamics between wealthy people and working people – how what means so much to one can mean so little to another. It also dives into the psychology of how wanting money and wanting what leads to money blend together. Are you in love with the person themselves or what that person can give you? Or is there even a difference?

Overall, this is a fantastic character study that features one of the best performances of the year and only stumbles slightly because its’ ending is stronger thematically than it is in a story sense. It’s a movie I don’t particularly love, but it has grown on me with each passing day. It gives the viewer a lot to think about and once again proves Sean Baker as a director to watch. It’s not for the faint of heart and I imagine a large portion of the audience will be indifferent toward it. That being said, it’s most certainly a film that’s ripe for debate regardless of how one feels. That, in itself, is a sign of a great film. B+