Jackson Bragman, Special to The Denisonian–

Disclaimer: This story contains spoilers for “Anora.”

What makes Sean Baker such a unique filmmaker is his ability to immerse us in the world of his often very ordinary characters, involved in very extraordinary circumstances. 

The 54-year-old director’s most recent project is his most acclaimed yet. 

“Anora” won the Palme d’Or, the highest award at the Cannes Film Festival, last May, and has received six nominations for next month’s Academy Awards, including Best Picture and Best Director nods. 

It’s a film of three very distinct acts, starting out as a fast-paced romanticized view of sex, money and American nightlife before morphing into a slapstick screwball comedy, and concluding as a slow and methodical character study. 

Baker’s eighth feature film is named for its main character, portrayed by Mikey Madison in a star-making performance who goes by “Ani”, for short. 

Ani, a young escort from Brooklyn, meets Ivan, the son of an uber-wealthy Russian oligarch, at the strip club where she works. Ivan becomes infatuated with Ani, and offers her $15,000 to act as his girlfriend while she accompanies him and his friends on a week-long trip to Las Vegas. By the trip’s end, Ivan and Ani decide to get married, prompting chaos to ensue. 

Mortified by this news, Ivan’s parents send Toros, Ivan’s Godfather, and his henchmen to annul the marriage and bring Ivan home to Russia. When Ivan runs away, Ani, Toros, and his goons embark on a wild goose chase throughout New York to find Ani’s husband. 

After finding Ivan at the strip club where Ani used to work, Toros and Ivan’s parents use their financial leverage to force Ani into agreeing to annul the marriage. 

She can stay the night in Ivan’s parents’ Brooklyn mansion, where she’ll be accompanied by Igor, one of Toros’ henchmen-played by the Oscar nominated Yuriy Borisov – but she must be out by the morning. 

As the film entered its conclusion, I was captivated, but remained unsure of our protagonist’s motive. Ani is fighting tooth and nail to keep her new marriage together, despite being abandoned by her husband. 

But why? It’s plausible that it could be to maintain her newfound wealth, or perhaps she has truly fallen in love with Ivan, however, it is unclear to us what exactly is going on inside her head. It wasn’t until the film’s final 30 seconds that it felt like the answer hit me over the head with a frying pan. 

The next day, Igor drives Ani back to her apartment. It’s the dead of winter. He’s been quiet thus far, yet, always visibly empathetic toward Ani’s cause. 

Still, as far as we can see, Ani remains cold and unappreciative. Before she gets out of the car, she looks to Ivan and initiates a sexual encounter, but when Ivan tries to kiss her, she breaks down sobbing uncontrollably into the warmth of his arms. 

The screen cuts to black, as the credits play. There is no music. Just the unnerving sound of the car’s windshield wipers staving off the winter snowfall.  

It was only after this moment that I was able to fully appreciate and empathize with the complexities of Ani’s character. It wasn’t the money that had been driving her, nor her love for Ivan, but rather her suppressed desire to be loved by someone, anyone, and her grappling with not knowing how to accept that love. 

She maintains a tough exterior throughout all of  the madness and, on numerous occasions, defaults to fornication over emotional intimacy. We can infer that Ani has had a difficult childhood, as is common among sex workers. She’s consistently bitter and untrusting. 

Through her line of work, she’s grown desensitized to sex, but being truly vulnerable petrifies her. In the final seconds of the film, we see her for the first time letting her guard down, as all of her pent-up emotion comes flooding to the surface. 

Baker’s ability to keep an audience engaged, without letting them all the way inside the head of his main character, lends itself to that massive gut punch in the film’s final moments. “Anora” is a consummate Sean Baker project for its potent portrayal of authentic human emotion. Very few filmmakers capture it better. 

Jackson Bragman ‘27 is a journalism and cinema double major from Bloomfield Hills, Michigan.