By: Amara
Deflated, hopeless, lost. The ending of Sean Baker’s Anora left me speechless. A dire depiction of the reality of an industry that is simultaneously stigmatised and romanticised by the media. As the credits rolled silently in over a black screen, I must admit I didn’t quite know what to do with myself.
The film expertly balanced comedy with melancholy, and hope with impending doom. A few memorable scenes had the entire theatre laughing out loud. The absurdity laced into the plotline provides an escape from the underlying atmosphere of foreboding. Somehow, Baker manages to create a plot that offers just enough opportunity for hope whilst still reminding the audience that this is too good to be true.
That Anora didn’t start desperate to escape the life she leads as a sex worker in NYC is refreshing. Her life is not portrayed as tragic – as is common in film and the media – and instead, she is making a decent living for herself in a way that she appears to enjoy. Granted, when she returns home after work to her dingy flat that she shares with her roommate, exhausted and cigarette in hand, we see the other side of this life. And on a few occasions, she points out to her boss and coworkers the lack of care and benefits afforded to her and her colleagues. But, on the whole, Anora seems content.
However, when Anora meets Ivan (son of a Russian oligarch) as a customer at her place of work, she is presented with an opportunity to choose a different life, and she takes it. Throughout the movie, we see Anora try to navigate this relationship and new lifestyle. The audience is dazzled by glamorous parties, sparkles, ice sculptures, drugs, and champagne, and it truly feels at some points that this will last forever… or will it? Baker manages to maintain this niggling doubt throughout. Though at points it is almost unnoticeable, in hindsight, I can see that it was there the entire time.
This is perhaps the reason that the ending feels like such a gut punch. Whilst I knew that it was too good to be true, I allowed myself to have hope and be excited about a future of love and luxury for Anora, and I ended up kicking myself when the inevitable happened. What is so gripping about this film is how it takes the audience along this journey with Anora, and we feel it too when the glimmer of hope is squashed smaller and smaller and eventually just stamped out.
Ultimately, Anora provides a more realistic depiction of sex worker life than the likes of Gary Marshall’s Pretty Woman of 1990. Whilst there are elements of romanticism in Anora, these serve to contrast and highlight the reality of the sex-work industry, which is far from the overly sanitised and idealised portrayal in Pretty Woman. Furthermore, the ‘Cinderella narrative’ is not seen through. The film feels like something of a Cinderella story at times, but in the end, Anora is never ‘rescued’. Moreover, she never longed to be. Whilst, yes, she did jump at the chance to lead a different and glamorous life, she was not sitting around waiting for this to happen. Instead, she was advocating for herself and drawing attention to the struggles she faces. Anora does not need to be saved.
Anora is an emotional, hilarious and captivating film which destigmatises an industry that is so often looked upon negatively, whilst bringing attention to systemic issues faced by sex workers and providing a more realistic portrayal of the realities of the industry than the romanticisms of previous—a welcome addition to the running commentary on sex work in the media.
