“A frenzy of love and anger, solitude and solemnity”: a review of Sean Baker’s Anora

To be honest, whilst watching Anora for the first time, I wondered what made it so loved. The winner of this year’s Palme D’or, it received fervorous praise – not atypical for a Sean Baker film whatsoever – and as a huge fan of his previous work myself, I anticipated something soul-stirring. So, when whatever that special ingredient that makes his films so potent seemed to elude me for most of Anora, I was left feeling perplexed.

Wrapped from head to toe in a persisting raucous atmosphere, Anora’s seemingly complete devotion to the humorous side of the raw chaos of life is enjoyable, but somewhat disarming given my expectations. However, in true Sean Baker fashion, it ultimately serves to create a precise image of the human experience, albeit just more subtly than his previous films. Yet to me, that is perhaps what made it all the more affecting by the end.

We follow Ani (Mikey Madison), a Brooklyn-based exotic dancer who, on a working night, encounters Vanya (Mark Eydelshteyn), the debauched yet childishly joyful young son of an uber-rich Russian oligarch. A whirlwind romance ensues, as Vanya showers Ani with riches and opportunities that extend far beyond the muted hallmarks of her usual life, culminating in a sudden Las Vegas marriage. 

However, the couple are not left to their new luxurious idle life for long, as parental figures in Vanya’s life catch wind of the elopement and set about forcing the annulment of the marriage, yanking Ani out of her newfound comforts. Struggling to hold onto the vestiges of a dizzying dream made true, Ani is forced to confront the reality and truth of her romance with Vanya as their love lies under siege.

The tale unfolds much like how an unhinged bender would. Framed initially through steamy neon close-ups and off-kilter pans, the majority of Anora is infused with abrasive humour, perpetuated through its eclectic cast of characters. From the high-strung Toros (Karren Karaguilan) commandeering the frenzied quest for annulment to the somewhat aloof yet endearing henchman Igor (Yura Borisov), the interactions between them all serve as comedic gold whilst still fleshing out each and every one of them as positively human – flaws and all. 

With all of this set to the backdrop of a punchy and overstated soundtrack, you may be left puzzled as to why, after all was said and done, I was left with what can only be described as some ineffable brand of tragedy.

Well, just like any wild bender – the high passes. The visuals become more reserved and soft; a beautiful intimacy glitters from silent car rides and hurried walks along darkening boardwalks. As the reality of the situation becomes clearer, Anora slowly but surely captures all the flurried emotions of the coming grief. Despite its initial boisterous veneer, the film is cunningly raw, chipping away at you emotionally bit by bit. So as the last minutes unfolded, I looked down and realised there was already a huge pit in my soul, and my heart had long since fallen out. 

Admittedly, I spent a lot of the movie waiting for a particular gut punch, a particular scene that might turn the whole thing on its head and throw everyone into shock and tears. Without saying too much, some may say the last few sequences fulfil that – maybe so, but to me, none of those moments were necessarily inherently shocking. It only served as the final tap on an already splintering sheet of ice that the film had quietly been working away at – and it gave away in the most sobering way possible.

I really haven’t felt this way about a movie in a while – I can’t even say that a lot is going on in my life personally that would make a film like Anora resonate even more true with me. So the fact that I feel such a genuine gaping void by the end of it all is a testament to the film. And should I be surprised? Sean Baker is reputed for capturing the human experience in an unadulterated fashion – and Anora only cements this. 

The fact that it all exists in one rolled-up package – a frenzy of love and anger, solitude and solemnity – is in itself an incredibly accurate portrayal of human life. So all in all, I have to concede that this is an utter triumph of a movie. In the hours that followed my viewing, I had never been closer to breaking down into tears. Even in the ensuing days, I was hard-pressed to shake a silent sad shroud,  I couldn’t articulate more as to why, but that is the feeling I was left with – and you never forget a feeling.

Anora is a punchy yet deceptively pensive ode to those who live on the fringes, to those teetering through the corridors and thresholds. It’s a celebration of the pipe dreams we hang onto; a crutch for many in a world that often values us for what we provide, rather than who we are. And most gut-wrenching of all, it captures the death of a dream – and despite how we may rage and struggle for what we want, life doesn’t always work out the way we hope.