Anora, dir. Sean Baker (139mins) | Releasing January 5th 2024
Anora, Sean Baker's fearless new showstopper, is the second film this quarter to revolve around a subversion of the Cinderella story. The first is - of course - The Substance, which takes the 'be home by midnight' trope to its most blood-soaked extreme. Anora is similarly concerned with 'the comedown', and its star Mikey Madison here delivers what must surely be one of the greatest performances this year. The last time I have felt so blindsided by an emergent young actor would have been back in 2017, when Chalamet shone through Guadagnino's lens and ensured his trajectory toward critical assent. If this film paves the way for Madison to enjoy a similar rise, then we live in a just society.
Anora (or 'Ani', as our protagonist prefers to be called) follows the story of a young sex-worker who falls into an entanglement with Russian scion Vanya (portrayed fantastically by Mark Eidelstein, who has himself been nommed the "Russian Timothee Chalamet"). Both characters are instantly lovable, and it becomes apparent that this romance drama offers Madison the perfect vehicle in which to exercise her comedic chops. As the film explores the ups and downs of the duo's eventual relationship, Baker holds an unflinching eye on the mistreatment Ani faces as a sex-worker in his world. It is the juxtaposition of the love we viewers develop for Anora against the disdain many show to her (on account of her career exploits) which provides the film with its central tension.
And my god is there tension. Around 40 minutes into this 2-hour journey, Baker subjects his audience to a near 25-minute-long real-time home invasion sequence which is as devastating as it is hysterical. The sheer amount of commitment that Anora demands of its key players (actors, directors, photographers, set designers, cinematographers, make-up team and more) to make sure this sequence is entertaining and brutal in equal measure has to be totally commended. It's phenomenal movie making, and the entire team responsible should be rewarded for such a triumph.
After this sequence, the film drags our lead down a vortex of bad luck and mistreatment. It's a very long bad day for Madison's Anora in a way not incomparable to that of Beau in Ari Aster's Afraid. But unlike Aster, Baker is uninterested in curating unbearable torture porn for his lead character. Ani instead demonstrates a tenacity and resilience which sees her ensure small victories against the obstacles which attempt to derail her. Her resilience is indeed awesome, but we become increasingly conscious as the film goes on that her survival skills and humour are born out of the fire of the sex-work industry. These are muscles which have kept her alive. And so there is a sadness that underpins Madison’s portrayal here which lands Anora’s tragedy in a really powerful way.
The final scene of the film is particularly haunting, deviating sharply from the humour and hijinks that define Anora up until now. Without spoiling the plot, at the end of the film she is confronted with an act of genuine kindness for the first time. Someone is nice to her, and not for the sake of getting something in return. It’s not kindness for the sake of persuasion or the pursuit of sex. It’s just…kindness. And, in the wake of the events of this film, we see Anora just cannot comprehend this. Her character has been so brutally mistreated that she struggles to process and respond to this sort of softness. And in my cinema, which had been filled with laughter for the last 100 minutes, you could hear a pin drop. ‘This scene’, I thought to myself as I watched this staggering sequence, ‘should be the moment which earns Madison an Academy Award.’
I've heard multiple people claim this final scene of Anora 'doesn't work', but I believe it contains the film’s own raison d'etre. To dismiss it would be to dismiss Anora’s humanity in favour of her bombast. It would be to reduce her (and this film itself) to a spectacle. Ani is relentlessly funny, sexy, hardy, steadfast and bold. But she is also exposed, afraid, used, belittled, ignored, discarded and loathed.
Baker, whose entire filmography has interrogated the position of sex-workers in modern America, presents audiences with Anora to challenge conventionally-held views about strippers and escorts today. Baker supposes that these women shouldn't be flatly regarded as two-dimensional sex-positive ‘girl bosses’ who stay unfazed by the power structures they perform within. Neither should they be reviled as the very worst of society, or judged for the choices they have made. In Anora's final scene Baker makes his demand of his audience clear: treat these women as the human beings they are, because to refuse to do so serves only to perpetuate these quiet tragedies. It seems beyond thought that he need even make this case in 2024. All humans deserve grace and respect—who would have thought that was a shocking presumption?
I can quite easily guess what the elevator pitch for Anora must have been, but this film is so much more than Garry Marshall's Pretty Woman gone wrong. Anora is the best film of the year. You cannot miss it.
★★★★★
Written by James Green
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