ANORA. Occasionally, unexpectedly, a work of art — in its evocativeness and embrace of its medium — stymies critical reaction. That may be (partially) an excuse for lethargy due to other sectors of life; impending national and global crises could be a factor.
But Anora is one of the most exciting, human, fully realized exercises in creativity (let alone movies) I have experienced in a long time, and I find myself at a loss to organize and examine my response to it. Aware the movie was already riding a wave of critical acclaim (it won the Palme d’Or at Cannes this year, is favored by many oddsmakers to win the Best Picture Oscar), I avoided as much discussion, in print and elsewhere, as I could. In spite of those efforts, though, references to the titular character’s role as a sex worker proved inescapable; which both embraces and misses the point entirely.
For those unacquainted with his work, writer/director/editor Sean Baker has been active for almost a quarter-century, releasing a number of low-key indies (hard to find, these days) while also co-creating the sitcom Greg the Bunny. In 2012, though, he made some waves with Starlet, a warm-hearted meditation on loneliness and connection almost tangentially backdropped by the porn industry. With the benefit of hindsight, the positive reception to Starlet seems to mark both the beginning of Baker’s rise to prominence (read: access to more money) and a cohering of narrative focus.
With his next feature Tangerine (2015), shot seemingly guerilla-style on the streets of Hollywood using iPhone 5s, Baker became a known name, an inventive stylist and an illuminator of marginalized communities, in this case trans sex-workers with infidelity problems messing up their day.
Before seeing either of these two movies, it could be easy to assume some sort of salacious, exploitative motive on Baker’s part, an outsider urge to pull up the edge of the rug and prove how punk-rock he is by rolling around in what lies beneath. (Maybe that was just my cynicism.) In fact, his work is among the most emotionally accessible, empathetic and humane in contemporary American cinema. Immersive but also singular in its style and structure, the movies don’t so much normalize as de-other the lives and stories at their center. They never evince any feeling of separation between the subject, the artist and the audience. There’s the point: Othering, exoticizing and the need to normalize are constructs of a society overlaid on the real foundation of our civilization; a sham, in other words.
And so, necessary as it may be to point out in marketing materials that Ani (Mikey Madison) is a sex worker, I wish it could have been omitted. But I guess the titillation, the flush of exciting adolescent guilt, will probably sell more tickets than any fancy French award. And really, it’s probably a stupid point with which to take issue, but given the expansive acceptance, the humor and honesty that continue to define Baker’s work and grow within it, it seems like we should all just grow up a little. Especially as we plunge into an uncertain but certainly troubling future.
Ani (née Anora), one of the few dancers at cavernous club Headquarters who speaks his language, is summoned from her break to provide VIP treatment to a young, rich Russian named Ivan (Mark Eydelshteyn). As it turns out, the two like each other pretty well and Ivan, on an extended American break from his domineering, oligarch parents, offers to pay Ani (handsomely) to be his girlfriend while he’s in town.
Youth being youth, feelings get caught and when Ivan takes a runner to avoid his parents’ ire, Ani is conscripted by his handlers to help track him down. What follows, as the bulk of the narrative, is a frequently hilarious all-in-one-night pursuit through wintry New York without any of the customary perils and pleasures a conventional movie would interpose. Instead, it’s a deeply naturalistic (for lack of a better word), beautifully staged and shot examination of what a pain in the ass it can be to try to find somebody who doesn’t want to be found.
While Anora is as sexy and sexual as any major release in recent memory, Baker’s distinct, delicate sensibility and the care with which the cast members play their parts preclude simple salaciousness or shock. Instead, there is a magical culmination, that rarest of cinematic feats, that allows the movie to become even more than the sum of its parts. It feels immediate and raw, but also perfectly composed, without a frame or word or note out of place. It represents a logical progression in Baker’s already formidable career, but it also feels like a statement of intent that goes beyond the movies, a central point around which to gather to uplift the fundamental notions of humanity that are currently so embattled. R. 139M. BROADWAY.
John J. Bennett (he/him) is a movie nerd who loves a good car chase
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For showtimes call: Broadway Cinema (707) 443-3456; Mill Creek Cinema 839-3456; Minor Theatre (707) 822-3456.
This article appears in Bitten.