Anora, directed by Sean Baker, is imagined by many to be a romantic comedy. While the movie does intend to be humorous, and even get some laughs, the “romance” is questionable. The movie sees Anora “Ani” Mikheeva (played by Mikey Madison) marry a wealthy client in the film within her role as a sex worker. The greater conflict is surrounded by nearly everyone working against her to illegitimize the marriage. Ani is subjected to all manners of abuse, mostly involving the use of violence. Although she puts on a strong guard, the psychological damage stacks on top of her. Throughout the film she then begins a different relationship with another man—Igor—the one most sympathetic to her. He happens to be her capturer, strictly speaking.
While unforeseen circumstances are characteristic in rom coms, the truth of Anora’s relationships isn’t some unconditional relationship or casual fling. What seems more questionable than the characters in the film assuming love, is how Anora is considered a romance. It is a romance in the way that the protagonist fails to have a loving partnership. But it is not a romance by any conventional meaning, especially one where true love exists.
Dark Undertones and Humor
It is more accurate to define the film by its other elements and is better called a dark comedy. The term also admits the dramatic aspects of the film, taking in consideration its seriousness. I believe it’s one of those films that is ‘funny because it’s true.” Not because of the aloofness of the characters, but because of their damaging assumptions that reflect the real world. It is no secret that Sean Baker intends the movie to garner empathy for sex workers: Anora directly expresses that.
The damaging assumption is that of Ani as a sex worker, who is hardly treated as a human being, even in the midst of alleged sympathies. It is funny and ironic the concern that one of her capturers shows for her: “Are you raping her? Are you killing her? What are you doing to her!?” As if kidnapping is a less immoral offense to her than what they are willing to do if she resists enough.
Coercion
Because of these conditions she is put under, it can be argued that all emotions are ingenuine. We understand that the antagonists’ ultimate goal is to annul her marriage with force if necessary. So anything she says or does, is either a result of her kidnapping, or in spite of it. The same goes for Toros (Karren Karagulian), Garnik (Vache Tovmasyan), and Igor (Yura Borisov), who are forcibly holding her, because they must annul the marriage. I do not mean to undermine the entire message of the movie—it obviously aims to roam the complexities of this unique situation.
The movie is impactful and moving because it translates very specific emotions and exposes the underlying assumptions, something that can only be done under that kind of pressure. But perhaps its sympathies of Igor go too far: just because Igor and Ani understand each other, does not mean they are capable of a genuine relationship.
Finding the Romance
The romantic perspective can inadvertently take away the seriousness of the dark undertones. I’m sure the implications aren’t lost on anyone but viewing the film as a romance suggests that the darkness is overridden by love. What endearing partnership is there to be had from trauma and abuse where the leverage is sex and money? The film may pose it as a paradox, an irony. But that interpretation is what I personally disagree with.
The two partners Ani has, if we call them that, are Ivan Zakharov (Mark Eydelshteyn) and Igor. Ivan was to be her husband until his father disapproved of the marriage, causing the events from them on. It is a constant battle to get to the end result, and while Ivan swore to love her during their “in love” phase, he completely rejects her right as the pressure mounts on him. There is no concern, no care, no real connection between them as we learn by the end. That places their relationship as illegitimate in other ways than legally or ceremoniously. Interestingly, the movie gives its sympathies to Ani, seemingly in love with the boy and believing in this dream of love. This is where interpretation takes place, and the viewer has to decide whether she herself truly loved him or not.
Sex as a Transaction
As a sex worker, Ani understands the false pretense of her relationship with her clients. They are there for one thing only, and everything else surrounding that is a performance. Money was the push and pull between her and Ivan, same as it probably was with any other client. After all, it was her job, and she seemed to have gotten accustomed to it. She has a culture at the club with her girlfriends, including the gender-fueled drama that goes along with it. She has certain attitudes towards money and sex because of her environment. It is not something that simply changes or sets itself apart from whatever happens in other aspects of her life. It becomes a bias, an unremovable factor of her identity, externally and internally. A factor that makes it hard to call transactions “love.”
Unreliable Perspective
“If the film shows Ani falling in love, then why isn’t it a romance?” It seems to me that one of the truths of the film is Ani’s unreliable perspective in the romantic parts of the film. It is what she wants, what she hopes is true, even if everything else is signaling that it is not. These romantic scenes are shown through her naive perspective, with the humorous irony leaking through that she was in it for the money in the first place. She deserved to be treated as a human, that much is true. But what else did she expect, especially considering her lifestyle? What made that relationship different from any other client she had before?
Ani is shown to be prudent, hard-working and observant—yet she is naive. Her attitude toward him was poisoned when she became aware of his sheer wealth. She tried to keep it all business, professional as she could be against his initial advances: but she was always aware of the prospect of him in the back of her mind. There is the argument that this interpretation could assume too much of her unspoken thoughts. But I believe it adds to the tragedy of her romance, that it describes how desperate and hopeless she was. As a sex worker, Ani is accustomed to the false pretenses of having a relationship with her client. But she did it anyway, throwing caution to the wind. She did it to get away from her life, going to parties and relying solely on the charming words of Ivan.
The Second Partner
Where a lot of viewers are getting the other part of the romantic storyline is through Igor. He is the henchman who forcibly holds Ani and becomes her “caretaker” in a sense. Although Igor is somewhat delicate in his handling of Ani, he still proves to be violent with other characters in the film. He is observant, honest, and just a bit soft. His mannerisms and actions, ironically show that he is truly the only person sympathetic to Ani. He does not want to do his job in the way that he does, but similar to Ani, has to do it to maintain what lifestyle he does have. His history is vaguer than that of Ani, perhaps emitting that masculine half of certain romance movies.
Romance Generalized
In some of these films, the woman can often be abrasive yet confident or guarded in a way, until they come across a man they can “be themselves” with, and also discover the soft underbelly of the man’s hidden personality. In a very generic way, Anora might fit that description. But there is frankly something very different about the motivations and conflicts in Ani’s story. That much is clear.
Failure to Change
It is not unlikely that Igor and Ani share a specific connection. They are alike in their lower social class, yielding to those deemed superior to them. In their quiet observations of each other, it is possible they saw themselves as survivors of this dark reality. It causes both the character and the viewers to believe that there is a chance for them to have a real partnership.
The physical capture of Ani already poisoned that possibility, but the ending itself seems to prove that a romantic relationship is not possible. It leans into romance, with them showing trust in each other and Igor speaking to defend her honor. And it still wasn’t enough. When things died down and Ani was finally back home, it looked like the moment a new beginning would spark. It looked like there was something to gain in all that loss. But when Ani breaks down in the car, the scene translates to the viewer that she lost too much.
The Tragedy of Anora
One of the key reasons for their failure to have a partnership is that the movie ends with sex and money. She is paid off a meager amount to annul the marriage—the bare minimum for her troubles. Ani doesn’t really accept it in heart; it is only thing she can take back with her from the journey. When finally comforted by Igor, the first thing she does is initiate sex—a transaction she is familiar with. He doesn’t object either, participating in the transaction and further poisoning the possibility of partnership. Although they are uniquely honest with each other, they ended up emulating the relationship Ani has with her clients and—by extension—with Ivan.
Romance films usually result in love being gained by the end of the movie. Anora is not like that. It is a story of loss, a separate journey to preserve what Ani had, not to gain or even exchange. If either Igor or Ani died, it would be the death of someone less than a partner. As the title might suggest, the tragedy is Anora’s alone, with Igor being the spectator to her despair. And he couldn’t escape from being a part of the problem, a significant part of the trauma subjected to her. The story leans more to one of isolation; cold and merciless as the rain and snow in the film. It would never suffice to be a romance where two individuals desire each other outside of dependence or desperation, where a genuine relationship could hope to take place.
