ANORA
a Review by ava bellows
ANORA
Written, directed & edited by Sean Baker
(Spoiler alert)
Sean Baker’s Anora is a gut-punch of a love story—a whirlwind romance that begins with the naive hope of young love and ends in the wreckage of promises made by a boy who doesn’t know how to keep them. At its center is Ani, a Brooklyn stripper barely out of her teens, and Vanya, the boyish, reckless son of a Russian oligarch whose wealth has insulated him from consequence for his entire life.
Mikey Madison - Anora courtesy of Neon
Their relationship starts like a dream—spontaneous and thrilling, full of grand gestures that feel ripped from Ani’s childhood fantasies, until Vanya, a child, charmed by Ani and her American passport and her maturity, (he tells Ani she seems older than she is, “You’re, like, 25, right?” he asks, amused to learn she’s only 23) proceeds to treat her like she’s barely grown at all.
And maybe she isn’t. Ani begins the film as a girl playing at being a woman. She’s clever, tough, and quick with a cutting retort, but she’s also clinging to the kind of romantic ideals that only young love makes possible. Her dream honeymoon is Disney World. Vanya, with his puppy-dog charm and access to private jets, feels like the prince her younger self always imagined. But Anora is no fairytale, and Baker wastes no time in showing us how quickly Ani’s dream unravels.
Vanya’s recklessness, initially intoxicating, reveals itself as something much darker—an inability to face responsibility, to choose anything that might cost him. Mark Eydelshteyn plays him beautifully, embodying a boy whose privilege has rendered him emotionally weightless. He loves Ani, or at least he thinks he does, but he loves the idea of her more. When his mother (played with icy precision by Zinaida Ivanova) heads from Russia to America to put an end to his rash and rushed marriage, Vanya folds like a house of cards. And Ani, who fights for him, for their marriage, for the future she thought they were building together, is left to hold the pieces of their brief life together.
Anora courtesy of Neon
Mikey Madison is astonishing as Ani. She captures every nuance of a girl caught between the woman she’s trying to be and the child she still is. Ani is tough, scrappy, and unwilling to give up on a love she believed in with her whole heart, but Madison also lets us see the cracks in her armour—the way her voice falters when Vanya dismisses her, the way her desperation to be loved the way she loves him leads her to humiliate herself just to keep him close. Watching her fight for Vanya is heartbreaking not because you believe he’s worth it, but because she does, and it hurts to see her pour everything into a man who’s already halfway out the door.
Baker captures their dynamic with a sharp, unsparing intimacy. The film is full of moments that feel so painfully real it’s almost hard to watch—Vanya’s casual cruelties, Ani’s quiet unraveling as she realizes he’ll never fight for her the way she fights for him. But Baker also finds moments of humor in the chaos, balancing the heartbreak with a sharp, almost absurdist wit.
Mark Eydelshteyn (Vanya) & Mikey Madison (Ani) - Anora courtesy of Neon
One of the film’s standout moments is the fight scene between Ani and Igor, a man working for Vanya’s family. It’s a chaotic, raw, and unexpectedly funny moment, showcasing Baker’s ability to balance heartbreak with humor. The humor, however, is entirely rooted in Yura Borisov’s remarkable performance as Igor. He makes it clear, both through his words and physicality, that he has no intention of harming Ani, which is what allows the audience to laugh. His calm, deliberate actions transform what could have been a violent confrontation into something absurdly funny, the comedy arising naturally from the disconnect between the stakes of the moment and Igor’s refusal to escalate the situation. It’s a scene that releases tension even as it highlights Ani’s willingness to keep fighting, even when she’s been left to face these men alone.
And Igor... Igor is something else. Borisov plays him as a quiet, watchful presence, someone who sees Ani in a way no one else does. Ani’s too caught up in her heartbreak to notice, but we do. Every look he gives her, every subtle gesture, feels like recognition. He sees her the way we do: someone fighting like hell for a love that isn’t worth it, someone too good for the people around her to appreciate. Where Vanya treats Ani like part of his fantasy, Igor sees her as she is.
Yura Borisov plays Igor - Anora courtesy of Neon
Their final scene together is stunning in its simplicity. Igor doesn’t try to fix Ani or make promises he can’t keep. He’s just... there, offering her a kind of quiet tenderness that feels revolutionary in its own way. He’s the unexpected soul of the film, proof that sometimes the kindest thing you can do for someone is to simply see them.
By the time the credits roll, Ani is no longer the girl playing at being a woman. In her heartbreak, in the shattering pain of being discarded by the man she gave so much to, she becomes young again—in that raw, aching way that only love and loss can make you. Madison’s performance captures this transformation with devastating precision. Ani’s heartbreak doesn’t destroy her, but it leaves her exposed, her edges dulled by grief. She’s not broken, but she’s no longer whole, either.
Sean Baker’s Anora is a story about love, yes, but more than that, it’s a story about the way love shapes and undoes us. It’s about the chaos of being young and wanting so badly to believe in something, even when the cracks are staring you in the face. It’s messy and tender, funny and devastating, a film that captures the contradictions of life with an honesty that feels almost unbearable. Mikey Madison delivers a career-defining performance, and Mark Eydelshteyn’s Vanya is so painfully real you can’t help but despise him. And Yura Borisov’s Igor offers a quiet reminder that, sometimes, kindness is the most revolutionary act of all.
Anora courtesy of Neon
Anora is not a fairytale. It’s harder than that, and truer. It’s a story about love, loss, and the wreckage of wanting too much, lingering like a bruise long after the credits roll—a bruise you keep pressing, just to feel it again.
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