Going into Anora, I wasn’t sure what to expect but it
certainly wasn’t a screwball comedy. Yet, following an explosively erotic, wild
twist on the Pretty Woman cliché, writer/director Sean Baker guides his
movie into an extended period of warped comedy. By the third act, he returns to
a drama-based foundation, focusing on concluding with a modicum of closure but Anora
stands out as an airy experience full of surprises (big and small), all
anchored by Mikey Madison’s tremendous performance.

Madison is a revelation as the title character, stripper
Anora “Ani” Mikheeva, who lives in Brooklyn and works in an upscale club in Manhattan.
Madison has mastered the accent and attitude of someone eking out an existence
in Ani’s circumstances. The character is bold and brassy, taking shit from no
one (including her fellow dancers) and seizing any opportunity that comes her
way. Madison is fearless, seemingly comfortable with the nudity required for (numerous)
scenes in the film’s first 45 minutes (she reportedly felt so at ease with
Baker and her co-star, Mark Eydelshteyn, that she turned down the offer of an
intimacy coordinator) and showing an admirable capacity for physical comedy
during the film’s midsection. But her most remarkable moment comes during the
final scene.

Early in Anora, Baker, who has a gift for a you-are-there
filmmaking, takes the viewer behind-the-scenes at the strip club where Anora
works, providing glimpses of how the dancers view their work. The conversations
aren’t fundamentally different from what one might hear from servers in
restaurants or performers in a stage show. This is a job. They know how to do
it and how to skirt the rules to get the best tips. Anora is willing to do a
little extra on the side (off club grounds) to make some additional cash but
she’s not cheap and doesn’t perceive herself as a prostitute. In fact, she
bristles at being called a “whore” or “hooker,” evidence to the contrary.

Her fortunes, which are illustrated briefly with a shot of
her flat, take a turn for the better when the club owner introduces her to
Vanya (Eydelshteyn), the spoiled scion of a Russian oligarch who’s looking for
a good time with a woman who can speak Russian (one of Anora’s talents). Smitten
and unsatisfied with what she offers in a VIP room, Vanya asks for a meeting at
his mansion and the two are soon negotiating a deal where she will be his
exclusive, live-in “girlfriend” for a week (she gets $15K for the job). While
on a trip to Vegas, Vanya impulsively proposes and the two return to New York
as a wedded couple. This news alarms Vanya’s Armenian handler, Toros (Karren
Karagulian), who is ordered by Vanya’s irate parents to “take care of” the
situation. When his bumbling henchmen, Garnick (Vache Tovmasyan) and Igor (Yura
Borisov), arrive at the mansion, Vanya is initially stubborn and belligerent but
then runs away, leaving Anora to deal with the Three Stooges.

Vanya’s flight signals a shift in tone from the playful
romantic interaction between the newlywed couple to the comedic interactions
between Anora and her three captors. It’s a twist on O. Henry’s “Ransom of Red
Chief,” where the victim is more than the kidnappers can handle. Although this
segment probably goes on a little too long (the movie as a whole feels like it
could benefit from some trimming, mostly during the third act), it vacillates
between darkly amusing and laugh-out-loud funny. The thugs aren’t particularly menacing
and Anora never seems to be in danger. By the time Anora reaches its
final 40 minutes, the Baker shifts into a more grounded exploration of the emotional
toll of the experience on Ani.

In 2017, when Baker had his international breakthrough with The Florida Project, I remember being surprised at how engaging such a small, seemingly
simple production could be. I wrote the following: “The Florida Project feels genuine from start to finish and Baker
doesn’t wander onto a Hollywood-inspired detour despite many opportunities.” Some
of those same qualities are evident in Anora. By using handheld cameras
(but not in a way that threaten to bring on nausea) and favoring longer takes,
Baker opts for a gritty, intimate perspective to present a narrative that could
best be described as a twisted fairy tale. He navigates tonal switches and
story beats that could doom another production but which end up elevating this
one.

Anora has proven to be liked by both critics and
everyday movie-goers, at least those that give it a chance. (I saw it on its
local opening night and there were only a dozen attendees.) After winning the
Golden Palm at Cannes, it went on to capture the Audience Award at Toronto and
currently holds a 91 rating (Universal Acclaim) at Metacritic. But marketing
the film has proven tricky for distributor NEON. The movie’s essential
qualities don’t translate well to a two-minute trailer and the confusing platform
release strategy has left some viewers uncertain when it might open at a
theater near them. Here’s hoping the movie finds its audience because it’s one
of the freshest and most audacious films available in this year’s sparse
cinematic landscape.

Anora (United States, 2024)