Disclaimer: this article contains spoilers.
On Sunday, March 2, Sean Baker’s “Anora” swept the 96th Academy Awards, winning five of the six categories it was nominated for – including Best Picture and Best Actress in a Leading Role. For a story about a Brooklynite sex worker getting Vegas-wed to the hedonistic son of a Russian oligarch, the film is as euphoric as it is tragic.
It debuted back in May at the 77th Cannes Film Festival, with Baker taking home a Palme d’Or — their most prestigious award — for an outstanding ensemble of performances cradled in Baker’s precise cinematography. The film has joined the ranks of previous Cannes winners, including cult favorites like “Pulp Fiction,” “Parasite” and most recently Justine Triet’s “Anatomy of a Fall.”
Despite “Anora”’s immediate and widespread success, its accolades do not protect it (nor any movie) from criticism. Concerns about a lack of professional intimacy coordination, tired stereotypes about sex workers and depictions of violence against women under the guise of comedy are all worthy of examination. Some have called it a “Cinderella-esque” fairy tale; a rags-to-riches (and back to rags again) story about a prince whisking a down-on-her-luck woman into a world of indulgence and luxury. However, we do not pity Anora when we meet her.
Mikey Madison plays a fiery stripper, Ani, (she hates “Anora”) who is all glitz and seduction, though we see touches of softness around her hard edges after the makeup and lashes come off. She is tenacious and unapologetic, hailing from Brighton Beach, a working class Russian enclave that neighbors Coney Island where several iconic scenes of the movie are shot. Baker created the role specifically with Madison in mind, and — given her sheer amount of improvisation — Ani belongs as much to Madison as she does to Baker, if not more. She is charismatic and well-dressed, even if her ritzy workplace (a semi-exclusive strip club in New York City called “Headquarters”) is a false-front for a undoubtedly gruelling occupation. Like Ani tells her boss: “When you give me health insurance, workers’ comp and a 401K, then you can tell me when I work.”
Colloquially characterizing Ani as the “Cinderella of sex workers” somewhat flattens the film’s impact. She is not a downtrodden damsel in distress; rather, she is put together and professional as she escorts men to the back rooms of her club or deftly guides them towards the ATM. This is how Ivan (Mark Edelstein) meets her, instantly dazzled by her charm — and by the convenience of her ability to speak Russian. The seemingly independent son of a mysterious international mogul, Ivan begins to pay Ani for meetups outside her working hours. Eventually, he offers her $10,000 to live for a week in his parents’ Brooklyn mansion and pretend to be his girlfriend. When she agrees on $15k in cash, upfront, Ivan jokes, “I would have gone to 30.”
Perhaps, the first two acts of the film contain elements of Disney movie — dazzling colors, rhythmic music and an unforgettable female lead — though Walt likely wouldn’t have approved of the graphic debauchery. Ani and Ivan live like celebrities — drinking, partying and ravishing each other. He dresses her in silks and furs, buys her expensive meals, takes her dancing with his Russian friends and whisks her away on a private jet to Vegas where he finally pops the question:
Ivan: “Will you marry me?”
Anora: “Seriously?”
Ivan: “Seriously. Three carats.”
Anora: “…What about four?”
She does marry him, shotgun style in a chapel in Vegas. Suddenly she is no longer in it for the money; or, at least, not the cash.
Some reviewers have posited that Ani never really liked Ivan, and her entire reason for continuing to entertain him is a strategy to access his wealth. I interpreted this differently: we see her growing infatuation with him throughout the movie, whether it be through affectionate glances, laughter with his friends or amused fondness for his physical inexperience. In fact, Baker is careful to not let Anora fall into the trope of “gold digging, get-that-bag girlboss” — a newer, shallower trope that befalls the cinematic sex worker (think Jennifer Lopez in “Hustlers”).
Anora and Ivan enjoy their time together, even if the people in Ivan’s world only see her as a footnote in his life. She is referred to in offhand dialogue as “Ivan’s prostitute girlfriend,” a casual conflation of who she is versus what she does that is routinely inflicted upon people in sex work. And, like Ani, we are simply meant to brush those judgements off and continue enjoying the fantasy.
However, the third act grinds any delusions of grandeur to a halt, and this is where the film shines the most.
Ivan’s offscreen oligarch parents catch wind of their son’s marriage, and the bubble of juvenile indulgence pops immediately. Toros (Karren Karagulian), Garnick (Vache Tovmasyan) and Igor (Yura Borisov) are three mafia-style goons employed by Ivan’s father who show up at the mansion in Brooklyn unannounced, tasked with getting the marriage annulled before Ivan’s parents arrive in New York. Unwilling to face the wrath of his family, Ivan splits, leaving Ani to fend for herself.
A boisterous, action-packed sequence commences as Ani tries to extract herself from her situation, yelling at the three men that she and Ivan are “man and wife” and to get out of “our house.” She tries to run, and when they block her she begins kicking and screaming, their efforts of keeping her to stay put turning to physical restraint. As reviewer Chelsea S. aptly wrote on Medium, “Igor, the enforcer, claims it’s for her safety, but for Anora — and for many women — it feels uncomfortably similar to an act of violence.”
Themes of corrupted autonomy and consent extend beyond the screen. One of the most controversial components of this movie does not lie in the subject matter, but in the lack of an intimacy coordinator onset. This was revealed in an “Actors on Actors” interview between Mikey Madison and Pamela Anderson, where Madison said that she had declined the presence of an intimacy coordinator when the filmmakers offered it to her.
“I had seen Sean’s films, and I know his dedication to authenticity. I also wanted to immerse myself in that,” Madison said in the interview. “As an actress, I approached it in a way of like, it being a job. So, I was very comfortable.”
Her choice has faced backlash online, with Variety — who hosted the interview in the first place — publishing a piece shortly afterwards interviewing various intimacy coordinators in the industry who gave their opinions.
The biggest takeaway: even if the lead actors said no to an intimacy coordinator, they could not speak for the extras on set, the camera crew, or the various other production staff that would have been involved. The next biggest: “It is next to impossible for a performer to say no to someone who has hiring and firing power,” intimacy coordinator Marci Liroff said to Variety. “You don’t want to seem needy. You don’t want to have to spend more money — [intimacy coordinators] are a new position on set, so we’re a new line item on the budget.”
Liroff makes a good point, getting at a complicated power dynamic that has been replicated on Hollywood sets since the dawn of the industry. Baker has never had an intimacy coordinator present on his sets before, despite the majority of his filmography involving narratives about sex work. But, for a film about a woman whose driving goal is to be taken seriously in a world that continually underestimates her, it is interesting to me how quickly Madison’s choice has been dismissed. To say that she had no agency in that scenario is to effectively take it away, even while there exists an inherent imbalance between director and actor.
That being said, workplace exploitation and related trauma can be difficult to determine in the moment — and given Hollywood’s track record, it is commendable that intimacy coordination is set to become an industry requirement, not just a standard. Last November, intimacy coordinators voted to unionize under SAG-AFTRA — a 99%, near-unanimous win.
Baker has been clear in his position on the matter, if unsatisfying: “If the actor requests [an intimacy coordinator], 100%. It is our number one priority to keep our actors safe, protected, comfortable and involved in the process.”
His film ends with a quietly devastating climax, any veil of fantasy falling away in the final twenty minutes. Anora’s only companion, in the end, is not much of a companion at all rather than a class acquaintance: Igor. He is the only character to show her shreds of sympathy throughout the film, like offering her a scarf or a light, though his presence is silent and – for many audience members – a bit of a cop-out on Baker’s part. Still, Yura Borisov plays Igor with an understated fervor, engaging us even in the background. Anora is not affectionate towards him at any point, and yet she ends up on his lap in his grandmother’s station wagon, her final attempt at reclaiming her worthiness — a desperate grasp at autonomy — that fizzles out in a choked sob and an embrace.
In conversation with MovieMaker, Madison said, “I never felt naked, per se, while I was playing Ani — except for maybe the last scene. But I was fully clothed.”
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