Anora

Sean Baker once again explores the false promises of the American Dream in Anora, an ersatz Cinderella story marked by a sobering dose of reality. This sexed-up anti-fairy tale follows Ani, a Brooklyn-based exotic dancer who can be tempted by the right client at her club, Headquarters, to dabble in sex work. Because she’s Russian-American and understands the language, she’s introduced to Ivan, a spoiled Russian man-boy with untold riches thanks to his mysteriously influential father. They fall for each other and live happily ever after, which is not at all what happens. Baker once again delves into his characters’ chaotic, shrill lives, which range from abrasive and hollow to genuine and warmhearted. Those last two qualities don’t factor much until the final stretch of the writer-director’s Palme d’Or-winning comedy, an engaging but caustic experience many have celebrated. My reaction is far from rhapsodic. Though I appreciate Baker’s continued interest in showcasing characters marginalized by society, and I admit it’s impossible to deny the immediacy with which Baker directs, Anora didn’t cast the same spell on me that it has on so many others.