Sean Baker’s Anora (2024) has received significant accolades, including five Oscar nominations and the prestigious Palme d’Or at the Cannes Film Festival. The film follows the Russian-American erotic dancer and sex worker, Anora (Mikey Madison), who goes by the more American-sounding “Ani.” Over the course of a couple weeks, Ani is wowed by Ivan (Mark Eidelstein), also called Vanya, the expatriate son of an ultra-wealthy Russian oligarch, and his extravagant lifestyle.

The pair meet when Ani, as her club’s resident Russian-speaker, is assigned to work with Vanya. After a few (compensated) whirlwind weeks, Ani quits her job, and the pair spontaneously get married in Las Vegas. When Vanya’s parents learn of the wedding, they furiously send Toros (Karren Karagulian), Vanya’s godfather, who brings his friends Garnick (Vache Tovmasyan) and Igor (Yuriy Borisov), to escort the couple to the courthouse for an annulment. Once they arrive, they confront Vanya in a scene in an extended fight scene that prompts Vanya to flee. The group must then track Vanya down to annul the marriage.

Director Sean Baker is known for depicting the inner lives of marginalized people. His works include Tangerine (2015), which follows a transgender sex worker, and The Florida Project (2017), which explores the lives of a six-year-old and her mother as they narrowly avoid homelessness. These films, like Anora, were enjoyed by critics, and both received scores of 96% on Rotten Tomatoes. Baker was celebrated for his unique idea of shooting Tangerine on an iPhone, and The Florida Project was named one of the top ten films of 2017.

Baker didn’t grow up impoverished or an immigrant, but he told Huck Magazine that he was raised to “have empathy for others.” He mentioned that he’s witnessed the real lives of the people he depicts, and that “shining a light on them can only make the world a better place.” Baker has expressed his goal of de-stigmatizing sex work through his films by creating protagonists that audiences can empathize with. In some respects, Anora does just this; Ani is witty, self-sufficient, and empowered. She’s always prepared with a remark or comeback and radiates confidence. Madison’s realistic performance creates a likeable character who's hard not to empathize with. But while Baker attempts to abandon a cliché, fairytale ending, he struggles to portray his protagonist without a male-savior-counterpart.

Anora is meant to be comedic. I certainly found myself laughing along with the rest of the theater despite the somewhat serious subject matter. But I couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable during the supposedly funny 25-minute-long fight scene between Ani, Toros, Garnick, and Igor. Ani is left alone with the men after Vanya runs away, and she physically fights them while refusing to get an annulment. She screams while Igor ties her down and eventually gags her with a scarf to keep her quiet. She’s able to injure some of the men, but she’s clearly not in control. The awkward, dysfunctional battle was meant to raise laughs (and in my theater, it did), but it revolves around a scared woman being attacked by multiple men who look down upon her and her profession.

The film might do something to de-stigmatize sex work, as evidenced by the mixed feelings it elicited from sex workers themselves. But it falls short with adding dimensionality to Ani’s character. Ani is a successful businesswoman. Until Vanya suggested marriage, Ani’s time with him was transactional. She negotiated payment with Vanya, unwilling to settle for too low of a price. However, if Baker wanted to truly humanize sex work, her character needed to be explored in greater depth. We see her small Brooklyn apartment, learn of her mother in Miami and her Russian grandmother, and discover her childhood dream of a Disney honeymoon in a Cinderella suite (a not-so-subtle nod to her Cinderella story). But as for her recent aspirations, interests, and history, we get little. We largely experience Ani in terms of her relationships with men. She aspires to make money, of course, which she was able to do by marrying Vanya. She’s vehemently against annulling her marriage, but her emotional attachment to Vanya that seems to go beyond money is never explained.

Even in the third act of the end of the film, when she finds Vanya intoxicated in her former club, Ani still wants to save her marriage and repeatedly swears that she’s in love. She eventually accepts Vanya’s immaturity but is then quickly paired with another man: Igor, who previously attacked her. They don’t fall in love on screen, but they are often shot parallel to each other. The film implies that Igor, like Ani, doesn’t come from money; Igor, unlike Vanya, could really love Ani. He treats her with acts of kindness, placing a blanket over her and salvaging her wedding ring, and of course, proclaiming that he’s “not a rapist.” His mediocre niceties are enough to make Ani trust him even after he bound her hands with a phone cord. The film concludes with Ani, breaking down and exhausted, in Igor’s arms.

Maybe, if we learned more about Ani, or had she been allowed to thrive without a man beside her, Baker could have humanized sex work and differed from the male-savior trope which he attempted to stray from. Anora was surely enjoyable and featured an array of talented actors who salvaged the unfortunate plotline. Anora is one of 10 films nominated for Oscars “Best Picture” category. Many of the nominated films, including The Brutalist, I’m Still Here, and Nickel Boys, feature stories of immigrants, political activism, and racial persecution. Although some, like Anora, come with their flaws, the Oscars’ diverse list of acclaimed films gives me hope while the US government threatens immigrants and efforts toward inclusion. While he doesn’t fully achieve it, Baker’s goal in filmmaking emphasizes the idea that art and film can be used not only to elicit a few laughs, but also as an avenue to create change.