What's going on with modern movie making auteurs? Have they lost the art of editing, or are they just too sacred to be told to "make it leaner" by those with the money? A fault of the recent Yourgos Lanthimos, Greta Gerwig offerings and now Sean Baker's Anora; a film with such a bloated middle act that the high-octane momentum of the start felt like a distant memory as we limped our way toward the finish line.
The problem in this case stems from the pressure to transition the story from one "love interest" to another in a way that's both timely and dramatically believable. In short we need to move from the extremely shaky conceit that a savvy New York lap dancer wouldn't spot her latest "sugar buddy" for the coke-fuelled rich kid that he is, and plausibly get to the point where she finds redemption on the lap of an Armenian heavy with a heart of gold and the eyes of...well let's leave that there shall we.
Let's start with Ivan. Sure there may be underlying parental issues driving him to seek more than just a different girl every night, but the setup is far from Pretty Woman. Ivan here is more Borat on Spring Break than Richard Gere as Prince Charming. The story makes it clear that he is never going to be Ani's long-term rescue package and this inevitability slows the story to a standstill. Ivan and Ani never connect in a meaningful way-he's either on a downer, an upper, drunk on vodka, or glued to Call of Duty. Even when he does propose through the haze of yet another hangover we know exactly where it will end. Vegas. Which tells us all we need to know about its likely longevity. This then leaves Baker with a dilemma; either forgo a "salvation figure" altogether (a braver choice, in my opinion) or shoehorn one in. Baker opts for the latter, introducing Igor in the final act (and to be fair a stupendous last scene) but the question is, is it enough?
Once Ivan is out of the picture (he simply disappears without any real showdown until his parents show up), we are left with what happens until Igor emerges. Sadly this means a sluggish "hostage" scene, an endless search for Ivan, (with too many unanswered phone calls- seriously, no one thinks to send a text?) and a group of Armenian heavies verging on caricature.
More crucially, Ani isn't given an environment that allows her character to develop. Instead she spends this portion of the film scratching, screaming, and biting her way through oddly prolonged bondage scenes, without ever getting a chance to barter with her captors, or go on the run. When we finally do leave the house we are subjected to a relentless cycle of middle-aged observations about the state of Gen Z and vomit gags from the Armenian Marx brothers.
You also have to take issue that this is somehow a meaningful depiction about sex work. Sure, Ani is demeaned and subjected to some name calling, but not in a way that feels morally accusative or reflective. Make no mistake this is a hostage movie not a riposte to the faux glamour of the adult industry. There might have been an opportunity for Ani and Ivan's mother to discuss what makes men like Ivan and his father tick, but instead the film opts for a tired demonstration of power dynamics and misguided maternal instincts.
In short, Anora is an imbalanced and unsatisfactory film. It showcases some excellent acting-Mikey Madison is particularly strong-but falls short of delivering the sharp slap in the face it could have been. Instead, it feels more like being bludgeoned extremely slowly with a blunt instrument in the hands of a yet another East European stereotype.
