Sean Baker’s “Anora,” which recently won the Palme d’Or at the Cannes Film Festival and is a strong Oscar contender, is not an easy film but rather a complicated jumble of conflicting themes, ideas, and tones. It’s also the sort of movie your mom told you to avoid; it’s not so much that sex, drugs and violence appear in the film as much as they are the film. Yet, I cannot help but think that “Anora,” because of rather than in spite of its lurid content, is deeply reflective of concepts Christians hear preached every Sunday.
The film opens with a lap dance. Indeed, the first 20-ish minutes take place entirely inside a strip club, following Anora “Ani” Mikheeva (Mikey Madison), a 23-year-old Russian-American stripper from Brooklyn, as she and her fellow showgirls parade their mostly naked bodies in front of men of all ages and stations. It’s very, very uncomfortable to watch. While Madison is undeniably beautiful, only the most depraved soul would find these scenes titillating. Yet, while not an attractive portrayal of the world of sex work, it does not seem designed as a cautionary tale either; instead, it’s simply an honest portrayal of this kind of life.
The plot centers on Ani’s relationship with Ivan “Vanya” Zakharov, the 21-year-old son of Russian oligarchs; someone with far, far more money than common sense. After a few lap dances, Vanya asks Ani to spend a week with him in his mansion – for a fabulous sum, of course. A week of sex, smoking weed, and playing video games seems like a good time to Ani, who readily agrees.
In truth, the casual promiscuity, punctuated by genuine attempts at human connection, points to the true core of the film. The constant flirting of Ani and Vanya amid episodes that resemble attempts to get to know each other as people raises the obvious, agonizing question of whether a real relationship can grow out of such brokenness.
Ani defies simple categorization. She’s at ease with the men around her. She’s not the stereotypical femme fatale who detests the men who lust after her. Yet, she’s still unhappy with her station in life. “When you give me health insurance, workers’ comp and a 401K,” she tells the club manager when he gives her guff about asking for time off, “then you can tell me when I work.” She knows she’s held in low esteem by society, her clients, and her boss. But Ani is obstinate and refuses to be treated as others see her.
In the hands of Vanya, a prototypical man-child, a week of relatively tame debauchery becomes a wedding proposal, with a quick trip to Vegas to seal the deal. But as soon as Vanya’s parents in Russia get wind of this, they immediately set out to ensure the new marriage is annulled. They send an Armenian priest, along with two goons in his employ, to set things straight. For all practical purposes, they are Vanya’s babysitters.
The hypocrisy of a priest working for Russian oligarchs to bully a powerless young woman is overwhelming – would he of all people not recognize the elements of Judah and Tamar or Jesus and the adulterous woman? The answer, for the priest and everyone else, is no. That is, everyone with the exception of Igor, one of the priest’s two enforcers. Igor, unusually, recognizes Ani’s humanity, admiring her in her defiance, and ultimately coming to regret his role in her mistreatment.
Ani’s spirit comes, in part, from naïveté, but also from an odd devotion. “We are married. They’re gonna have to accept that,” Ani insists, claiming her marriage to Vanya is real love. The fact that an almost literal castle and mountains of money are also involved complicates this claim, yet does not nullify it. She refuses more than one attempt to be bought out: “You think money can buy me? I’m not for sale.” The fact that she literally was for sale, at least at first, is painfully ironic. Marriage seems to mean something to Ani, if not the Priest, his employers, or her husband.
Vanya escapes from his “babysitters,” leaving Ani behind, a fact that should, but does not, shake her confidence. She says he’s gone to get help. The twists and turns that follow involve farcical attempts to find Vanya, and to strong-arm both of them into signing away their marriage without too much fuss.
Even when the power differential reaches comical proportions, Ani remains defiant. She relents only when Vanya makes it clear that he has no intention of seriously challenging his parents, who are threatening to cut him off and destroy her. “So we’re just going to get divorced?” she asks. “Yes! Of course! What are you, stupid?” is Vanya’s pathetic reply.
In spite of the parents’ thuggish behavior, and their son’s cowardice and comical immaturity, Vanya’s parents view Ani as beneath them while the priest sees her as a manipulative prostitute. To no one, least of all the priest, does it occur that Jesus once said, “Truly I tell you, the tax collectors and the prostitutes are entering the kingdom of God ahead of you.” None of them see Ani as a person, and no one stops for even a second to question their actions.
The one exception is Igor, one of the two thugs to accompany the Armenian priest. Admiring Ani from the moment she first valiantly resists his attempts to physically restrain her, his respect for her only grows as she issues repeated moral challenges to the Zakharov family. In what is perhaps the single most shocking scene of the film, Igor challenges Vanya in front of his parents to apologize for the indignities that Ani has suffered for his sake. It’s an unsuccessful, though bold attempt to bring a semblance of moral balance to the situation, considering the Zakharovs could have him killed.
The film does not lose focus on Ani’s brokenness. A telling point of dialogue occurs when Ani accuses Igor of attempting to rape her during their first encounter. Igor profusely denies this, insisting he never had any intention of doing so. “Why wouldn’t you have raped me?” Ani asks. “Because…I’m not a rapist,” says Igor. It’s profound because he’s telling the truth, but Ani has been conditioned to see herself as an object. Particularly after Vanya’s betrayal, she can’t fathom that Igor has grown to admire her for more than her body.
The final scene is the most poignant. As Igor drops Ani off at her apartment, now clearly emotionally enraptured, he hands over the huge diamond ring that Vanya had given Ani at their wedding. Igor was supposed to return it for money and may suffer punishment for doing otherwise, but so be it. Ani, clearly moved, has no understanding of how to respond to an act of true kindness and admiration. After loitering for a minute in the car, spellbound, she throws herself at him sexually, knowing no other way to return affection. Igor resists at first, but after relenting, is doubly shocked when Ani, overwhelmed with conflicting emotions, begins hitting him in the face. He grabs her hands to stop her, and then simply holds her as she sobs.
I’m not sure I’ve seen any other final scene that is so deceptively powerful in its reframing of the entire film. Ani’s reaction to genuine unselfishness and admiration, while distressing, underscores how much she desperately desires real connection and how little she, or her tormenters, understand this most human need. That even a woman like Ani is born for something more than this could not be clearer. It’s not about judgment, it’s about her value, something denied to her by nearly everyone, but never forgotten by her, or by even deeply flawed men like Igor.
“Anora,” is a pathetic, funny, and sad tale, but ultimately one that captivates its audience not with the debauchery of a strip-club nor the holier-than-thou abuses of privileged bullies, but with the genuine connection that draw humans to each other, and to God.
Not bad for the kind of movie your mom warned you about.
