Anora

The first thing I noticed about Anora wasn't the neon-soaked Brooklyn strip clubs or the sprawling Brighton Beach Russian community—it was the volume. Mikey Madison, playing the titular Ani (who prefers the more "sophisticated" Anora), has a scream that could strip paint off a battleship. It’s not a horror movie shriek; it’s the sound of a woman who has spent her entire life being told to be quiet and has finally decided to break the sound barrier instead.

I caught this at a Tuesday night screening where the guy sitting next to me was wearing a very loud windbreaker that crinkled every time he reached for a kernel of popcorn. Usually, that would drive me up the wall, but about forty minutes into Sean Baker’s latest masterpiece, the movie became so loud, chaotic, and relentlessly energetic that the windbreaker guy might as well have been a mime. Anora is the kind of film that doesn't just ask for your attention; it kidnaps it, throws it in the back of a luxury SUV, and takes it on a 100-mph joyride through the Five Boroughs.

A Cinderella Story With Sharp Teeth

We’ve seen the "sex worker meets a prince" story a thousand times. From Pretty Woman (directed by Garry Marshall, a film this movie both loves and wants to kick in the shins) to the gritty indies of the 70s, the trope is well-worn. But Sean Baker, who previously gave us the iPhone-shot Tangerine and the heartbreaking The Florida Project, specializes in looking at the "unseen" parts of America with a lens that is both empathetic and brutally honest.

Ani is a hustler. She’s smart, bilingual, and knows exactly how to manage the fragile egos of the men who pay for her time. When she meets Ivan (Mark Eydelshteyn), the pampered, hyperactive son of a Russian oligarch, she thinks she’s hit the jackpot. Ivan is basically a golden retriever on a diet of pure Red Bull and caviar. He’s charming in a "I’ve never been told no" kind of way, and before you can say "annulment," the two are flying to Vegas to get hitched.

The first act is a dizzying, drug-fueled romance that feels like a modern fairy tale. But Baker is too smart to leave it there. This isn't a romance; it’s a collision course. Once Ivan’s parents in Russia find out their son has married a "prostitute," they send their local fixers to clean up the mess. This is where the movie shifts from a romantic drama into a Three Stooges routine performed by the Russian mob, and it is glorious.

The Art of the Chaotic Hang

The middle hour of Anora is some of the funniest, most stressful filmmaking I’ve seen in years. The "fixers"—Toros (Karren Karagulian), Garnik (Vache Tovmasyan), and the quiet, soulful Igor (Yura Borisov, who was incredible in Compartment No. 6)—are not high-level John Wick assassins. They are middle-aged guys who are clearly exhausted by the whims of their boss’s bratty son.

Watching these three try to handle a defiant, screaming Ani in a luxury mansion while Ivan hides in the bathroom is peak comedy. Mikey Madison is a revelation here. She fights with every limb, every curse word, and every ounce of her soul. It’s a physical performance that reminds me of the great silent film comedians, if they were allowed to drop F-bombs.

What makes this work is the chemistry. While Mark Eydelshteyn plays the ultimate "failson" with terrifying accuracy, it’s the dynamic between Ani and her captors that gives the film its heart. In an era where many "prestige dramas" feel sanitized or overly calculated, Anora feels messy and alive. It’s shot on 35mm by Drew Daniels (who also shot Waves), giving the digital-heavy landscape of 2024 cinema a much-needed grain and warmth. It looks like a movie from the 70s, back when directors weren't afraid to let a scene breathe—or let a character be unlikable.

Why It Matters Right Now

In our current streaming-dominated world, we’re often served "content" that feels like it was designed by an algorithm to be played in the background while we fold laundry. Anora is the opposite. It demands a theatrical experience. It’s a film about class, the transactional nature of the "American Dream," and the way wealthy people treat the working class like disposable playthings.

It also sidesteps the usual pitfalls of contemporary "representation" by making Ani a fully realized, flawed, and occasionally irritating person rather than a saintly victim. She’s a worker. She’s there to get paid. And when the dream starts to crumble, the film doesn't look away. The final ten minutes are some of the most emotionally jarring I’ve experienced in a theater recently. I went from laughing at a guy getting hit in the face with a designer handbag to feeling a profound, quiet ache in my chest.

Apparently, Sean Baker found Mikey Madison after seeing her in Once Upon a Time in Hollywood (where she also did some spectacular screaming for Quentin Tarantino) and wrote the role specifically for her. It’s the kind of career-defining collaboration that cinephiles live for—like Scorsese and De Niro or Gerwig and Ronan.

Anora is a wild, foul-mouthed, and deeply human odyssey that proves original stories can still punch through the noise of franchises and sequels. It captures the frantic energy of 2024 while feeling like a timeless piece of New York cinema. If you’re tired of movies that play it safe, go find the loudest theater possible and let Anora scream at you for two hours. You won't regret the ride.