Movie Review ~ Anora

I’ve watched Pretty Woman more times than I can count, fare more than the musical My Fair Lady, which it takes a page from but definitely not as much as the classic fairy tale that certainly inspired them both.  The Cinderella trope is achingly familiar to anyone who has even glanced in the direction of the romantic comedy section at Blockbuster. Still, even though we know how it ends, we keep our eyes glued on the Prince who will rescue our Princess.  At the end of Pretty Woman, Julia Roberts, as Vivian, answers the question Richard Gere’s Edward asks, “So what happens after he climbs up and rescues her?” with “She rescues him right back.” We haven’t ever quite seen what that looks like.

In Sean Baker’s electrifying new film Anora, the writer/director boldly flips the Cinderella trope on its head. By giving the sword of the white knight to the sex worker who’s been swept off her feet by the son of a wealthy Russian oligarch, he shatters our expectations into a thousand glittering pieces.  This unexpected twist immediately draws us in, making Anora a film that is far more intriguing than a typical romantic narrative. In Baker’s eyes, Anora “Ani” Mikheeva (Mikey Madison, Scream), is not a passive recipient of fortune but the complex, layered lead of her own story.  She’s no “fallen woman” who needs rescue through love; she’s the fierce architect of her fate.

A dancer at an upscale Manhattan club, Ani catches the attention of Ivan “Vanya” Zakharov (Mark Eydelshteyn), the hard-partying, spoiled son of a wealthy Russian oligarch who is playing fast and loose with his family’s money.  Alone in the States, while his parents remain in Mother Russia, we’re led not into a fairy-tale romance but a volatile entanglement that challenges Ani more than it saves her.  What begins as an ongoing business transaction blooms into something more. Ani’s pledge to separate her life living modestly with her sister in Brighton Beach from her professional work crumbles.  Falling for the entrancing life Vanya leads with his Russian friends living in the city and around the country, she falls into a role and attitude she never dreamed of.  Rich and carefree.

A spontaneous Vegas wedding with Vanya plunges her further into his high-stakes world of blaring music, neon lights, and questionable alliances.  Eventually, reality brings the couple back to Earth, revealing dismissive family members, conniving associates, and a hovering sense of danger that Ani can’t easily wiggle out of.  She’s dealt with demanding customers before, but these Russians are connected and aren’t about to let her into their world, no matter if the love she shares with Vanya is real or not. Over several days, the tension becomes palpable, not softened by romantic clichés but magnified by the looming question: who, if anyone, is truly on Ani’s side?

Portrayed with raw, emotional depth by Madison, Ani barrels down a path that’s equal parts thrilling sprint and slow-motion freefall.  She’s not waiting to be saved; Ani is all sharp edges, unapologetically savvy in her ambitions, and as viewers, we’re taken deep into her chaotic journey.  Madison’s portrayal of Ani is magnetic, unveiling a complicated heroine who is neither a victim nor a femme fatale but a woman navigating her blurred morality. Madison’s chemistry with each cast member is electric.  The terse confrontations and loaded silences with Yura Borisov’s Igor, Vanya’s henchman, bring a vulnerability to the screen when we feel that Anora is determined never to let its defenses down. Their interactions peel back the story’s layers, revealing Igor’s conflicted loyalty in a way that sharply contrasts Vanya’s immature impulsiveness, creating a tense love-hate dance that grips you to the very end.

Baker’s signature style of capturing life on the margins with empathy and energy reaches new heights in Anora.  It’s a chief reason I suspect that the film impressed the Cannes jury enough to give it the Palme d’Or, making it the first American film to take it home since Terrence Malik’s The Tree of Life in 2011. Known for his ability to bring humanity to characters often overlooked by society, as seen in The Florida Project and Tangerine, Baker dives deep into Ani’s world, framing it in searing detail.

Drew Daniels’ cinematography bathes Brooklyn in neon tones, making Ani’s environment feel enticingly seductive and appropriately foreboding. The camera’s intimacy brings out Madison’s raw intensity, presenting Ani’s resilience with a cinematic intimacy that’s both revealing and bold in a way that doesn’t feel cliché to write about. Jocelyn Pierce’s costume design is another silent storyteller, showing Ani’s visual evolution—from a calculated-by-necessity seductress to a woman defining her identity without apology.   The kinetic energy present might make you squirm in your seat only because the screen is giving off so much life force, but Baker maintains an impeccable rhythm that gives Ani’s story space to breathe, demonstrating his evolution as a filmmaker.

Though Anora plays with familiar beats, it constantly undercuts any expectation of a fairy-tale resolution—Baker’s direction sways between charm and tension, blending realistic honesty with moments of disarming vulnerability. The downward spiral only takes it so far, and even after it’s leveled out, it manages to take it one step too far near the end, and if I’m being honest, it lost me in those final moments.  I wish it didn’t have to swivel as it did because, for the previous two hours, it had been a story that dismantled romantic fantasies to reveal something much more thrillingly authentic.  Ani’s journey isn’t about finding love or redemption through another but embracing the turbulent reality of her self-worth.  I thought that message would be enough, but Baker wants one more word on the matter…and it’s too much.

Anora ultimately leaves its audience as breathless as Ani herself, offering a relentless exploration of love, power, and survival. Those willing to ride its emotional roller coaster will find it exhilarating, a visceral reminder that sometimes, a happy ending means letting go of the fairy tales we’ve been told altogether. Baker’s bold, occasionally exhausting film proves that as long as you’re willing to break a few rules, stories of self-discovery can still blaze with fresh, electric life.