Anora is the movie of the year

The opening scene of Anora begins with a tracking shot of backsides parading from right to left to the remix of Take That’s Greatest Day, culminating in the reveal of the protagonist dancing. The theme of sex workers is a recurring one in Sean Baker's cinema: dissected, portrayed, and analyzed from the very early stages of his career, from the most intimate nature of independent productions (Tangerine was the first film shot with an iPhone) to Cannes, where he won the Palme d’Or. With just the first sequence, it's possible to reflect on the gaze and authority that Baker, born in Summit, New Jersey, has developed over the years—perhaps the only filmmaker whose male gaze has progressively disintegrated with each film. Only Baker has the ability to start a film with such an explicit reference to female forms and never give the impression of objectifying his characters. The director and screenwriter captures his female characters with affection, and the respect he feels for them comes through more strongly with each story, film after film—culminating with Anora, which was screened in a special event for real sex workers, complete with a Q&A with actress Madison, an event definitively dubbed by Teen Vogue as “The very definition of a safe space”.

Anora, a cruel movie

This time, the story takes its name from the protagonist, whose job at the club where she dances takes an unpredictable turn after her path crosses with the ultra-wealthy Ivan, played by Mark Eidelstein, already hailed as the Russian Timothée Chalamet. A young man who is more child than adult, living everything with the enthusiasm of a boy: leisure time with friends, trips to luxury hotels, and a relationship with a sex worker that he eventually wishes to marry. But the young man's whims are always lurking around the corner, and Anora's dream of a better life (not necessarily to leave the environment, but to secure financial stability) soon begins to waver. The comedy is driven by chaotic bedroom antics and the possibility of a life far removed from erotic pole dances and private performances for extra money. A humor that is boldly ironic, caustic, cruel. Life screws you over if you don't screw it over first, and things may not go as planned or hoped. In Anora's ambitious leap, aided by Baker’s earned credibility over time, the film is emblematic of his style and themes, representing the peak of his narrative and cinematic prowess, a point where indie meets industry at its core. The director hasn’t abandoned his raw, hands-on, inventive, and experimental approach, despite the allure and opportunities that come with the fame he has garnered over the years, but he has leveraged them to further elevate a category of people he cares deeply about, with a love purer than anyone else has ever shown. 

And we discovered Mickey Madison

And if for Ani, played by Mikey Madison, what is offered to her risks disillusioning expectations—an actress whose trust in her director is fully evident, so much so that she didn’t even require an intimacy coordinator—Baker's result is the recognition of a clear and generous auteur vision. A thorough exploration of a group to which he has decided to dedicate himself wholeheartedly, giving his characters the same commitment, from the porn star whose best friend is a grumpy old lady in Starlet to a washed-up adult film star in Red Rocket (and, in this case, even more so to his naïve nymphet Strawberry). Anora is the summa of a repeated and deeply explored theme, the summa of an aesthetic, apparently the most canonized of Baker’s works, but in reality, the most personal precisely because it doesn’t fall into the promise of mainstream cinema. It doesn’t even sniff it, perhaps plays with it a bit, but the evolution of the story, the protagonist’s narrative arc, and that finale full of pathos and emotion, of pain and melancholy, are examples of a filmmaker who has never lost sight of his personal compass, just as he hasn’t lost sight of the women he has always wanted to portray. They are his epicenter, the human connection that has become an artistic inspiration. And for this reason, the film exudes a sense of passion, tenderness, compassion, and adoration—what we feel from a film so modern, so sincere, so pop. Not idealized, not indulgent, or permissive. With a beauty as disturbing as that of Mikey Madison. A work with its own character, which mirrors that of the protagonist. Which in turn mirrors the cinematography of Sean Baker.