In Anora, Sean Baker crafts a story that swings between indulgence and disillusionment, inviting us to follow the highs and lows of Ani, a New York City dancer who enters the glimmering world of the rich and powerful. On the surface, this might look like a classic “rags-to-riches” romance. But Baker’s vision is far from any Hollywood fairy tale; rather, it’s a layered exploration of power, labor, and the difficult choices people make to find their place in a world that often looks down on them.
Mikey Madison, who brings Ani to life, gives a raw, unfiltered performance that turns this film from a simple story about a girl meeting a wealthy boy into something more profound. Her Ani is tough yet vulnerable, caught between a desire to escape her current life and a wariness of the world she’s being lured into. It’s a balancing act that Madison handles with nuance, creating a character who feels as much like an old friend as she does an enigma.
The film opens in New York’s HQ Gentlemen’s Club, where Ani earns her living. Baker wastes no time establishing the world she inhabits — a mix of harsh lighting, polished floors, and endless social dynamics that play out between dancers and clients. In one of her earliest scenes, Ani meets Ivan (Mark Eidelstein), a young man with boundless energy and wealth, who throws money around without a second thought. Ivan, as it turns out, is the son of a Russian oligarch, but he’s more interested in escaping his family’s strict world than embracing it. Ani and Ivan’s connection is at first a casual transaction, but it quickly morphs into something more complex. Soon, he’s inviting her out on adventures, taking her to his mansion, and offering a glimpse into the life she’s dreamed of.
Yet, like most fairy tales spun by Baker, Ani’s story is shadowed by a sense of unease. As she’s pulled deeper into Ivan’s world, she begins to see the way it functions — not only for Ivan but for those working tirelessly behind the scenes.
There’s a striking tension between the glitz of Ivan’s life and the labor that supports it, from the maids who tidy his home to the club bouncers who keep order in Ani’s world. Baker shows us that no matter how high Ani climbs, she remains closer to these workers than to the elite she hopes to join.
Ani’s journey takes her from New York’s chaotic nightlife to the quiet corridors of Ivan’s mansion, and eventually to the madness of Las Vegas, where she finds herself agreeing to marry him on a whim. The allure of this new life pulls her in, but Madison’s portrayal shows us that Ani is never entirely sold on the fantasy. There’s a hesitation in her eyes, a sense that she knows this world could just as easily chew her up and spit her out. Her marriage to Ivan feels more like an escape from her current reality than a step toward a new one.
In many ways, Anora is a study in contrasts. The film balances Ani’s gritty day-to-day life with the excess and extravagance of Ivan’s. Their romance plays out like a fantasy, but it’s tempered by Baker’s clear-eyed view of the transactional nature of their relationship. For every lavish dinner or wild party, there’s a quiet reminder that this lifestyle is built on money — and that money, as always, comes with strings attached. The relationship between Ani and Ivan, while genuine in some ways, is built on a shaky foundation, and Baker doesn’t shy away from showing the cracks.
Baker’s signature style shines in Anora, with scenes that capture the complexities of Ani’s relationships, both with Ivan and the people in her life. One standout sequence involves Ani navigating the politics of her club, brushing up against rivalries and alliances with other dancers. It’s a world where everyone has their role, and stepping outside it often comes at a cost. Even as Ani tries to escape her life, she’s constantly reminded of the limits imposed by her social and economic status.
This exploration of social dynamics extends to the supporting cast, particularly the men who come to break up Ani and Ivan’s marriage. The three enforcers sent by Ivan’s family are straight out of a genre film, each with his own quirks and motivations. Yet, rather than playing them as stock villains, Baker portrays them as workers caught in a system just as confining as Ani’s. The leader, Toros (Karren Karagulian), embodies the weariness of a man who has spent his life serving others, and his interactions with Ani reveal the tensions inherent in their roles.
One of the film’s most memorable scenes sees Ani fighting off these men in a violent, chaotic showdown that’s as funny as it is intense. It’s a moment that captures the absurdity of her situation, as well as her refusal to go down without a fight. Madison shines here, her performance balancing desperation with a fierce determination that makes Ani impossible to dismiss.
This scene encapsulates what makes Anora so compelling: Baker’s ability to blend humor and tension, to show us the humanity in every character, no matter how minor or flawed.
As the story reaches its conclusion, Baker pulls back the curtain on the fantasy he’s created. Ani’s fairy tale, if it ever was one, is quickly unraveling, and she’s left to face the harsh reality of her situation. The final scenes of Anora are both devastating and oddly liberating, as Ani comes to terms with the limitations of her choices. There’s no neat resolution, no redemption arc. Instead, we’re left with a portrait of a woman who, despite everything, refuses to be defined by her circumstances.
Baker’s vision in Anora is grounded in the complexities of human relationships, from the power dynamics of love and money to the quiet solidarity between those who work behind the scenes. Ani’s journey is one of constant negotiation, both with herself and the world around her. It’s a story that resonates because it’s real, because it refuses to offer easy answers or a conventional happy ending.
In many ways, Anora is less a love story than a meditation on survival. Baker shows us a world where everyone is struggling to carve out a space for themselves, whether they’re dancers, enforcers, or billionaire’s sons. His characters may live in a world of extremes, but their struggles are deeply relatable, a reflection of the challenges that many face in their own lives.
While Anora may draw comparisons to other films about class and romance, it stands apart for its unflinching honesty. Baker doesn’t glamorize Ani’s life or offer her an easy way out. Instead, he allows her to exist in the grey areas, to be both vulnerable and resilient, hopeful and cynical.
It’s a portrayal that feels both timely and timeless, a reminder of the ways in which society often fails those who don’t fit neatly into its expectations.
Mikey Madison’s performance anchors the film, capturing Ani’s journey with a depth and authenticity that make her struggles feel both specific and universal. Baker’s direction, meanwhile, brings a sense of empathy to every frame, ensuring that even the most minor characters are given their moments of dignity and humanity. Anora is a film that lingers long after the credits roll, a story that invites us to question our own assumptions about love, power, and what it means to truly escape.
In the end, Anora is a triumph not because it offers easy answers, but because it dares to ask difficult questions. Baker’s latest work is a testament to the resilience of those who live on society’s edges, to the strength required to keep moving forward even when the world seems determined to push you back. For Ani, as for many others, survival is a daily act of defiance, a quiet refusal to disappear into the background. And in Baker’s hands, that defiance becomes something extraordinary.
