Beyond the Screen: Finding Ourselves in "Anora" - A Therapist's Perspective

Exploring how Sean Baker's film mirrors our deepest truths about intimacy, agency, and the quiet revolutions of self-discovery

As a therapist who believes cinema can be our most powerful mirror, I'm continually fascinated by those subtle moments on screen that reveal profound truths about intimacy and agency. These cinematic glimpses shape us in ways we might not even realize, influencing how we live and love in the real world.

Today, I want to explore Sean Baker's "Anora" – a film that masterfully peels back layers of sexual expression, autonomy, and those quiet revolutions that happen when no one is watching.

The Story of "Anora"

For those unfamiliar with the film, "Anora" tells the story of a young woman working as a stripper at a club in Brooklyn. When Anora (or Ani, as she fiercely prefers) meets a wealthy young Russian man named Ivan, their initial transaction evolves into something more complex – though remains decidedly transactional.

In a narrative reminiscent of "Pretty Woman," Ivan offers Ani $10,000 to be his girlfriend for a week (which, as an aside, seems rather low when adjusted for inflation compared to the $5,000 offered in the 1990 film). They impulsively marry in Vegas, only to face the wrath of Ivan's Russian oligarch parents.

The plot takes a turn when Ivan discovers his parents are flying in from Russia to break up the marriage. True to form, he disappears – revealing himself as the spineless, spoiled man-child we suspected him to be. The middle portion of the film follows Toros, Garnik (essentially Ivan's handlers), and their sidekick Igor as they track him down. The final third chronicles the complicated process of dissolving Ivan and Ani's marriage.

The film ultimately offers a nuanced exploration of class, immigration, autonomy, and the economic realities that shape personal choices. Baker presents Anora's story without judgment, allowing her humanity and determination to shine through difficult circumstances.

When the Film Finally Won Me Over

I'll be honest – I wasn't completely sold on this film until its final 25 minutes. The turning point comes when everyone is on the plane to Vegas, and Ani's illusion that this relationship might be something real shatters as she overhears Ivan diminishing their marriage to "hiring an escort" while speaking to his overbearing mother.

Until this moment, Ani has fiercely defended this marriage, putting her emotional and physical safety on the line despite Ivan's unworthiness. After a life of choosing to exploit her sexuality for her own benefit, she confronts the painful reality that she has been exploited against her will to satisfy a wealthy young man's mommy issues.

Anora's Journey: Commodification vs. Personhood

Much like "Babyface" (which we discussed previously), the brilliance of "Anora" lies in how it refuses to reduce its protagonist to just her profession. From the opening scenes, we witness a woman who contains multitudes – someone who uses her sexuality with full agency to gain stability.

Baker's camera work speaks volumes. In club scenes, the frame initially mimics the objectifying male gaze but then subtly shifts to Ani's perspective as she observes the room, calculating her next move. It's a stark look at the capitalistic venture of sex work.

One scene that particularly struck me showcases Mikey Madison's brilliant acting: when Ani and Ivan are in bed together for the first time, she regards him with a mixture of pity and bemusement, similar to how one might look at a stray dog. We understand that she views this as a service, but one she delivers with warm pragmatism rather than coldness. This position maintains her relative power as the controller of goods clearly in demand.

The film presents a masterclass in what therapists call "compartmentalization as survival" – Anora's ability to participate in her own objectification while maintaining an internal sense of self. This mirrors what many women experience: existing within systems that commodify while preserving an inviolable core identity.

Power and Economics: The Illusion of Consent

The economic chasm between Ani and her wealthy Russian client-turned-husband creates a nuanced exploration of consent. Their relationship exists within a power differential that the film never lets us forget, even during moments of apparent mutual affection.

Until Ani agrees to marry Ivan, she seems in complete control, but the balance shifts afterward. Baker frames their prenuptial negotiations by positioning her in physically vulnerable postures while her dialogue demonstrates shrewd economic awareness. It remains ambiguous whether Ivan's proposal represents authentic desire or strategic survival.

The film poses uncomfortable questions without offering simplistic answers: Can true consent exist within extreme economic disparity? Is Ani's agency compromised or simply operating within realistic constraints? These questions mirror therapeutic discussions about the contextual nature of autonomy – how choice always exists within systems that limit our options.

Most revealing is how Ivan behaves once he faces his parents' control. He loses all agency as well, highlighting the fragility of consent built on economic foundations rather than mutual recognition of personhood.

Sexual Expression vs. Performance: The Search for Authenticity

Perhaps the film's most subtle accomplishment is distinguishing between Ani's professional performance of sexuality and moments of authentic sexual expression. Rather than presenting this as a simple binary, the film reveals it as a spectrum.

The intimate scenes between Ani and Ivan deliberately blur the line between genuine pleasure and professional performance. After their marriage, there's a significant moment where Ani regards her own body outside the context of either professional performance or intimate relationship – a private moment of self-witnessing that represents the possibility of sexual selfhood independent of external validation.

I also noticed how Anora's body language transforms throughout the film. The calculated movements of her professional dance become less choreographed during moments of potential authentic connection, shifting from performative sexuality developed for survival to expressions emerging from what she believes is genuine connection.

Resilience After Trauma: Reclaiming the Narrative

The film's most profound moments arrive in its final twenty minutes, where Ani is watched over by Igor – arguably the moral center of the story. It's here we learn that "Anora" means "warrior" (fitting), and we witness the steadfast care of the only man who doesn't seek to commodify, exploit, or oppress her warrior nature.

In a raw and heart-wrenching moment, Ani accusingly tells Igor he has "rape eyes" and would have assaulted her given the chance. Without defensiveness, he simply denies this. Her subsequent question – "Why wouldn't you rape me?" – reveals volumes about her worldview and possibly her past. This moment suggests how deeply women are conditioned to expect sexual manipulation, exploitation, and objectification, to the point where the absence of such behavior becomes almost incomprehensible.

The final scene leaves viewers to decide whether Ani chooses to have sex with Igor out of appreciation, gratitude, or pragmatism. What becomes clear is that her goals fundamentally differ from Igor's. She is someone wounded by connection and determined to protect herself from it even in intimate moments – not uncommon for those with complicated attachment and trauma histories.

The culmination arrives when Igor attempts to kiss her during their encounter, which she resists, before finally collapsing into tears. In the film's most moving moment, he simply embraces her, and she accepts what is absolutely the first moment of authentic connection with a man in the entire film.

This portrayal aligns with therapeutic understandings of healing – not as complete erasure of trauma's impact, but as integration of traumatic experience into a new narrative where the individual reclaims authorship of their story. Anora's journey reflects what many trauma survivors discover: healing often means finding ways to write new chapters rather than completely escaping the story's constraints.

Reflecting on "Anora"

What makes "Anora" so compelling is how it functions as a Rorschach test for viewers' perspectives on sex work, women, aggression, and trauma. The film allows us to do much of the interpretive work rather than forcing conclusions upon us.

As you reflect on the film, consider:

• Did you notice moments where Anora found authentic expression within constraining circumstances?

• How do you interpret the economic dynamics of consent in the film?

• What moments resonated with your own experiences of navigating performance versus authentic expression?

• How do you understand the film's portrayal of resilience? Does it align with your experiences of healing after betrayal or trauma?

Cinema at its best doesn't just entertain – it invites us to see ourselves more clearly and perhaps with greater compassion. "Anora" offers precisely this opportunity, reminding us that within systems of constraint, the human spirit continues its quiet, persistent search for authentic connection and self-determination.