Anora
Sean Baker doubles down on his bullshit with Anora, his fourth consecutive slog of a film and one that bloats the writer/director’s special blend of meandering storytelling, unfocused performances, and tokenism to new frustrating ends.
How this hunk of junk won the Palme d’Or at this year’s Cannes Film Festival remains a mystery. But here it is, invading awards season with its poor taste and lazy decision-making laid bare for all who dare to see.
Yet again, Baker proves uninterested in working with talented actors — perhaps even intentionally seeking the particular chaotic sloppiness that arises when nontraditional and inexperienced folks work under an undisciplined filmmaker of his ilk. In turn, his tale of the whirlwind romance between NYC stripper/escort Ani (Mikey Madison, Better Things) and wealthy Russian heir Vanya (Mark Eydelshteyn) predictably suffers in the hands of this lousy cast, though even the most gifted ensemble would have difficulty making this sketch of a script sing.
If we're being generous, Anora has, at most, 70 minutes of narrative that Baker stretches to twice that length. That's nothing new for his oeuvre — just ramped up to his longest runtime thus far — though hints are dropped that the filmmaker himself is aware he's lost control.
Somewhere towards the end of this shaggy mess, as Ani and thugs working for Vanya’s powerful parents attempt to locate the runaway groom and get the young adults’ marriage annulled, a character says, “This is a never-ending nightmare," all but writing the review for moviegoers far removed from the film's abrasive wavelength.
Prior to that accidentally self-aware moment, viewers have endured 30 minutes of the leads’ rambling “courtship,” and another half hour of Ani yelling at the goons — complete with highly questionable stretches in which they physically restrain and tie up our screaming, crying heroine, followed by an interminable stretch of her putzing around town with “the help.” It's tough to see why this is the story Baker wants to tell, but here it is in all its slapdash glory.
Borderline misogynistic in the lack of agency granted to Ani and the inescapable corner that the thugs back her into, Anora trots out a half-assed representation of sex workers that’s consistent with Baker’s career-long contentment with merely checking boxes while depicting people on the fringe of society. Miraculously, there’s no poverty porn in this Baker film, though Vanya’s excessive wealth juxtaposed with Ani’s humble train-adjacent abode toes the line and may very well stomp all over it.
As this freewheeling dumpster fire of a film stumbles to an uninspired and unsurprising conclusion, some nice moments arise between reluctant gofer Igor (Yura Borisov, Compartment Number 6) and Ani, but their chemistry barely registers within a narrative that feels made up on the fly yet occasionally resembles the bastard child of Pretty Woman and Billy Wilder’s One, Two, Three.
Even Baker’s filmmaking — which took a significant step forward in his previous feature, Red Rocket — backslides a good amount in Anora, despite gorgeous shots of falling snow in the home stretch that show what he’s capable of when he spends more than five seconds on framing.
However, as with The Florida Project’s “light scene,” a few pretty images shouldn’t be confused with a good or even mediocre movie. Until Baker can make that distinction, he’ll remain our most overrated working filmmaker.
Grade: D-plus. Rated R. Now playing at Regal Biltmore Grande and the Fine Arts Theatre.
(Photo: Neon)
