Film Review: Anora

Towards the end of Sean Baker’s palme d’Or winning film, Anora is asked if she knows whether her name means anything. She doesn’t—and after being told that one possible connotation is the word “bright”, she is quick to downplay its significance: “In America we don’t believe in that sort of thing”, she says. In this moment, the extent to which the events of the film have undermined her sense of self-worth becomes devastatingly clear. Despite daring to believe that things could this time be different, the prospect of a fairy-tale ending seems as far away as ever.

The film follows Anora (Mikey Madison), an exotic dancer who, following a chance encounter at the club where she works, agrees to marry Ivan (Mark Eydelshteyn), the son of a Russian oligarch, so that he might escape the authoritarian clutches of his parents back in Moscow. Indulging in the extravagant lifestyle afforded by Ivan’s inheritance, the newly-weds then embark on a wide-eyed odyssey of decadence and excess. But once word gets back to Ivan’s parents, things take a turn for the worse, testing the fidelity and resolve of the film’s star-crossed lovers.

The action proceeds at breakneck speed, reflecting its protagonists’ rash decision making. From the outset, Anora and Ivan’s romance is characterised by a dizzying excess of sex and drugs, leading to a series of increasingly absurd scenarios. This honeymoon phase is both delightfully fun and funny. Yet there remains a sense that the pair cannot outpace the encroaching tide of reality indefinitely. It is a night of wild intoxication, destined to end in the world’s worst hangover. 

One tell-tale sign of this impending tragedy is the fact that Anora and Ivan’s evident affection for one another seldom facilitates any real intimacy. One of the many pieces of art adorning the walls of Ivan’s home depicts two pale blue figures wearing orange masks. The image serves as a fitting mise en abyme for the way in which Anora and Ivan keep their vulnerabilities hidden behind a veneer of youthful zeal. That both characters often choose to forgo their given names—Anora with “Ani” and Ivan with “Vanya”—similarly hints at the presence of these masks, demonstrating their desire to keep their true selves out of view.

This sense of duality is woven into the fabric of the film itself. Just as the dazzling neons of New York and Vegas are replaced by the cold hard light of winter mornings, the pulsating beats of the cities’ club scenes are also counterbalanced by moments of sparse dialogue and quietude. By oscillating between these two extremes, the film captures the dual nature of Anora and Ivan’s romance.

If there is more to Anora and Ivan than meets the eye, then the Armenian chaperons sent by Ivan’s family to take care of the situation also represent Baker’s ability to draw out his characters’ profound humanity. Despite their hardened appearances, Toros (Karren Karagulian), Garnick (Vache Tovmasyan), and Igor (Yura Borisov) are really just family men trying to put a stop to the high jinks of a well-meaning, but ultimately misguided and impulsive couple of youths. 

That this trio are Armenian, and not Russian, introduces a further level of nuance. Their status as immigrants not only means they share a particular affinity with Anora, a third generation Uzbek expat; but, collectively, they represent a post-Soviet diaspora who, despite having broken free from the motherland, still find themselves at the beck and call of Ivan and his parents.

Beyond the film’s obvious romance, it is these subtle relations which pave the way for more meaningful forms of connection. Indeed, it is not Anora and Ivan, but Anora and Igor, who seem to share the most in common: out of all the characters, it is Igor who truly understands what is at stake, recognising the unresolved class dynamics simmering away beneath the surface. 

If Anora and Ivan’s relationship often feels superficial, then it is because true intimacy cannot be found through money, sex, or even marriage; but rather, the film suggests, in the nascent class consciousness of two unlikely comrades. This intimacy manifests in a number of ways. In one scene, Igor, noticing that Anora is cold, presents her with a red scarf; later in the film, she returns the favour by presenting him with a red blanket. It is not necessary to overstate the significance of this symbolism here, only to point out that, in stark contrast to the pace of Anora and Ivan’s whirlwind romance, such moments represent a more enduring form of solidarity. And it is only through these alternative expressions of love that real intimacy becomes possible. 

Anora is showing now at Broadway Cinema.