Sean Baker’s Anora is a tragicomedy filled with heart and rage, but it’s the little things that matter

Anora. // Courtesy Neon

Details always matter in Sean Baker movies. They’re the key to understanding the relationships between characters and the dynamics of the worlds his films place us in. In his latest, Anora, small choices and expressions tell us a lot — they’re the difference between a solidly written tragicomic tale about a hapless sex worker with heart of gold and an incredibly smart story about class, labor and the desire to be treated like a human being by people who will never, ever see you that way.

Anora, or Ani (Mikey Madison), works at a gentleman’s club in New York, and shares a ramshackle house under a train line with her sister. One night at the club, Ani catches a lucky break in the form of Vanya (Mark Eidelshtein), the 21-year-old son of a mega-wealthy Russian oligarch who’s sowing his wild oats one last time before returning home to work for his dad. In the tradition of Pretty Woman, Ani ends up in an exclusive engagement with Vanya, staying at his family’s palatial home and hanging out with his friends in Brooklyn’s Brighton Beach. 

Vanya and Ani impulsively get hitched during a whirlwind trip to Las Vegas, which is, of course, when the trouble starts. Vanya’s parents find out what he’s done, and immediately send their long-time fixer Toros (Karren Karagulian) and his goons Garnik (Vache Tovmasyan) and Igor (Yura Borisov) to force an annulment on the lovebirds. Vanya reacts by running off, leaving Ani, Igor, Toros and Garnik to figure out where he’s gone before his parents arrive seeking answers.

From the very start, Baker puts us in the perspective of people doing thankless work. When Ani’s boss complains she’s taking too much time off to be with Vanya, she responds that he can tell her what to do after he’s provided her with health insurance and a 401k. The first time we see Toros and Garnik, they’re in the background of a raucous party at Vanya’s, tiredly watching the young, spoiled idiots around them drunkenly wreck the place. During their Vegas trip, Ani watches Vanya lose an astounding amount of money at a craps table, her eyes briefly widening in shock before realizing the loss means nothing to Vanya, who’s never experienced serious consequences in his entire life (will that realization be important later? You bet it will).

Core to all of this is Madison’s incredible performance as Ani, who’s jaded enough to know that the world doesn’t typically give opportunities like this to girls like her without significant strings attached, but is still young and naive enough to hope what Vanya’s offering her is real. Her tough-as-nails resilience masks deep vulnerability that breaks your heart in the moments it comes to the surface. Her intense commitment, which never feels labored, is the stuff of instant legend, instinctual and natural on the level of Gena Rowlands’ work in John Cassavetes’ movies.

Anora. // Courtesy Neon

The film’s script also includes great details that enrich the hyper-specific world of the movie and deepen its exploration of the societal divides between its characters. Toros and Garnik are lackeys who work for the film’s ostensible bad guys, but they’re sympathetic figures, too. Toros is fed up with having to deal with years of Vanya’s irresponsibility, and what his job has cost his relationships. Garnik spends most of the movie suffering from a concussion, which provides both great comic beats and moments of empathy — you can’t help but feel for the guy. The fact that both men are Armenian, not Russian, also plays a role; try as they might for approval, Vanya’s family will never recognize them as one of their own.

On the surface, Anora offers a stiff, bitter corrective for modern fairy tales like Pretty Woman and the myths they perpetuate about upward mobility. It doesn’t take much, though, to notice that the movie is about much more than that. In addition to clever writing and thoughtful performances, it’s a deeply empathetic movie teeming with keenly observed and barely controlled rage. Baker’s subtly brilliant film knows how difficult it is to pull yourself up by your bootstraps, especially when those bootstraps are constantly being cut off by the people at the top.