Anora
★★★★
Anora is a film that thrives not so much on its plot but on its ability to sidestep clichés. The "sex worker with a heart of gold" trope has been explored before, but it's been a while since a newcomer—at least to me—like Mikey Madison has brought so much life to a role with such an unapologetic and authentic performance.
The story of Anora is particularly intriguing because of its unpredictable nature. Anora, a dancer and sex worker in New York City, finds herself entangled in a whirlwind romance—or at least what passes for love in her world—with a wealthy but immature young Russian man (Mark Eydelshteyn). What follows is a spontaneous marriage in Las Vegas, and the film then unravels the chaotic aftermath of that decision.
I've always admired Sean Baker's films for their raw humanity, even in the darkest situations. He has a remarkable ability to inject humor into spaces where you'd least expect it. Anora is no exception—a film that blends drama and comedy with a sprinkle of romance, all while keeping the audience on edge because you never quite know where it's headed. That unpredictability is part of what makes it so compelling.
What's especially fascinating is how we never get a traditional backstory for Anora. We don’t fully understand what drives her, but as the film progresses, it becomes clear that much of what we see is a carefully constructed façade. At its core, Anora is about the personas people put forward and the lengths they go to in order to mask their true humanity and vulnerability.
Structurally, the movie plays out as three distinct acts that could each function as standalone short films. But Baker masterfully weaves them together, eliciting a wide range of emotions from both the characters and the audience. There is anger, empathy and moments where what you think you understand turns out to be something else entirely.
While Mikey Madison’s performance is rightly earning a lot of attention, the supporting cast is just as impressive. It would have been easy for the Russian and Armenian mobsters in the film to fall into caricature territory, but each supporting character is given enough depth to stand out with their own unique personality.
It's still somewhat wild to me that Anora landed a Best Picture nomination. Not that I’m against it—I’m all for small independent films getting the recognition they deserve—but this, along with past winners like Parasite, signals an exciting shift in what Hollywood considers Oscar-worthy. It’s refreshing to see the rigid template of "Best Picture material" evolving.
Sean Baker has once again knocked it out of the park. Anora is rough, raw and unapologetic, but it carries an underlying warmth that makes it undeniably relatable. It’s almost an anti-fairy tale that still, somehow, leaves you feeling optimistic by the end.
