Illustration by Michael DiMilo
Sweet and Sour Dreams: Film Review of Anora
★★★★1/2
By Geoff Carter
Seth Baker is a filmmaker whose singular focus on the forgotten, the misbegotten, and pariahs of society—specifically sex workers—addresses issues of class, dignity, and compassion. His movies Tangerine, The Florida Project, Red Rocket, and his newest, Anora, chronicle the discrimination and contempt with which these people are viewed by society, but never loses sight of their humanity, even when their necessarily thick-skinned defense of their dignity—at the expense of trust—becomes abrasive or even violent. Trust is something they can barely afford.
Dreams, however, are cheap and sometimes free for them—and they are something Baker’s characters hold dear. Whether it’s the prospect of launching a young girl’s career as a porn star, marrying a prince, or even going to Disney World, Baker’s people strive—always desperately—for the humblest and the grandest of dreams.
The titular character of Anora (Mikey Madison) is a sex worker employed at HQ, a Brooklyn strip club that also offers more intimate encounters, including lap dances. Because she speaks Russian, Anora is approached by her boss to service a client named Anya Zakharov (Mark Edyshteyn) who turns out to be the son of a Russian oligarch and who is—supposedly—in America to study but instead spends his time partying and playing video games.
Anya enjoys Anora so much that he pays to be her exclusive client for a week. He asks Anora to visit him at his luxurious home, then invites her to a New Year’s Eve Party which is the very definition of excess, and then takes her and some of his friends to Las Vegas on the family’s private jet, where he asks her to marry him.
Anora rides this wave of good fortune without getting too excited or hopeful. While Anya is goofy, immature, and unreliable, he is kind and seems to enjoy her company. After he buys her the ring and they marry, however; Anora really seems to buy into her dream, her Cinderella story.
Reality, however, comes crashing down when Anya’s family gets wind of the union. They call Anya’s godfather Toros (Karren Karagulian) who has been commissioned by Anya’s parents to keep an eye on the boy and clean up after him. Toros sends Garnick (Vache Tovmasayan) and Igor (Yuri Borisov) to tell Anya his parents intend to annul the marriage and take him back to Russia. Anya flees, leaving Igor and Garnick to handle a very contentious and increasingly violent Anora. After breaking Garnick’s nose and forcing Igor to bind her, Toros arrives and explains that they need to find Anya and annul the marriage. Anora agrees, hoping to persuade Anya to stick by her.
The four cruise through a variety of bars, clubs, and other haunts looking for Anya in a sometimes violent, sometimes comical screwball comedy of errors. Finally, one of Anora’s old workmates calls to say he is at HQ, her old strip club. Garnick and Igor go there and retrieve him while Toros arranges an early court date for the annulment, which is derailed when they are informed the union must be dissolved in Vegas, where it occurred.
Anya’s domineering mother Galina (Darya Ekamasova) arrives with her doggedly indifferent husband Nikolai (Aleksie Serebryakov) and they ruthlessly shepherd through the annulment, treating Anora and their employees as subhuman minions.
With Anora, his most complete work to date, Baker toes very narrow lines between graphic reality, fantasy, romance, and pragmatism. While the Zakharovs and others may sneer at Anora for being a sex worker, she is a hard-working, determined, tough, and independent woman who is not afraid to stand up for herself. Contrasted to Anya’s feckless, irresponsible, immature, and reckless behaviors, she is a paragon of virtue.
The difference is—of course—money. Money allows the Zakharovs to bull their way through the American legal system, bulldoze Anora into signing the annulment, and to treat her like garbage. Money is the only reason Anora is a sex worker. Money is at least part of what attracts Anora to Anya. Although while not primarily a gold-digger, she is a shrewd opportunist. But it is Anya who suggests marriage, and it is Anora who is at first reluctant to go through with it—probably suspecting it will end as it does.
Toros is held so tight under the Zakharovs’ thumb that, at Galina’s demand, he abruptly leaves a church in the middle of a baptism ceremony where he is to be named godfather. While Garnick is also a thoughtless lackey to his rich employers, catering to every whim, only Igor stands up to them, and sees fit to treat Anora with compassion and sympathy. He offers her a scarf during their quest to find Anya and mentions that he thinks Anya should apologize to Anora, a notion that is quickly and completely shot down by Galina.
The inevitability of the Zakharov’s victory and the predictability of Anya’s fecklessness and cruelty is still heartbreaking, as is Anora’s increasing humiliation and utter abandonment by her husband. In this case, as in real life, the rich win.
As the slim possibility that Anora’s desperate hold on happiness slips away, she becomes more determined and contentious. She is a fighter, but the battle is too big for her, too big for love, and too big for her dream.
Anora is a study in class differences, character, morality, and hope. The sex workers at HQ do what they can to survive. Sex work is not pleasurable to them—it is a means of survival. To judge them from a moral point-of-view, as Toros and the Zakharovs do, constantly calling her a whore and a slut and a prostitute is to solidify their position in the upper class. Their only morality is the morality of money, power, and self. While the film bounces back and forth between screwball comedy, romance, and the gritty reality of the sex worker, it is mostly the story of a young woman’s desperate—and finally hopeless—dreams.
It is a sometimes harrowing, sometimes hilarious, and sometimes heart-rending film. It is a marvelous film.
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