‘Anora’, leading the Best Picture race, is finally streaming in India

At the heart of this odyssey is Mikey Madison, whose performance as the titular stripper shimmers with dangerous, luminous intensity. Madison is nothing short of electrifying—every syllable, every glance, every tossed hip, every defiant head-tilt declares, “I am in control, I own my choices, and I will not be diminished." Her Brooklyn accent, at first a perplexing jumble of gritty local slang and unexpected lyrical cadence, is revealed to be a mask—its fluctuations a deliberate, artful strategy. In moments of high tension, the accent sharpens into a harsh, unyielding rasp that not only signals the pressure of the moment but also betrays the intricate double life Anora leads: a woman caught between the rough, unpolished streets of lower-class Brooklyn and the polished, high-stakes corridors of Manhattan’s elite. 

Baker’s decision to allow this vocal inconsistency to emerge on screen is a stroke of genius—it mirrors the character’s inner fragmentation and her desperate need to impress a clientele that values artifice over authenticity, all while wrestling with the ghosts of her Russian heritage. For Anora, “fake it till you make it" isn’t just a mantra but a survival skill. Enter Vanya, an heir who dangles before her the gilded promise of class mobility, though he’s chasing his own fantasy—chiefly, an escape from his tyrannical parents. 

Baker is incredible at taking the film from tender, too-good-to-be-true romance to uproarious comedy—before we buckle up for a devastating finale. Take, for instance, the disarmingly natural Mark Eydelshtein, whose portrayal of a giggly son of an oligarch is a masterclass in spontaneous comedy. Entitlement courses through his body language as he goes—within moments—from being pleasured on a couch to playing a video game. Eydelshtein’s exuberance and twinkly-eyed mischief infuse the film with a joyous levity that stands in stark contrast to its darker themes. His performance feels so shockingly genuine that it transforms even the most dire circumstances into an arena for playful subversion.

Then there’s Yuri Borasov, playing a henchman, Igor. Igor navigates the narrative with detachment, delivering unexpectedly sharp lines even as the madness around him builds and builds. His subtle comedic timing is a counterpoint to the film’s more overt antics, providing a grounding force that makes the film’s sudden eruptions of hilarity all the more impactful. He may be hired muscle, but he’s irresistible.

Baker’s filmmaking a high-wire act in the midst of a hurricane. There is astonishing tonal balance here—a daring alchemy that fuses disparate genres into a singular whole. The film vaults from moments of soft, unexpected tenderness—a romance that blossoms amid chaos—to scenes of absolute farce with an anarchic energy, reminiscent of a wild, wild night in a city that never sleeps. Just when you think you have a handle on its cadence, Anora careens into a frenetic escapade, a dizzying adventure that mirrors the frenzied, pulse-pounding ambiance of young Scorsese’s early work. I thought often of After Hours. Yet, amidst this cinematic carnival of highs and lows, the film never loses sight of its emotional core—the woman at the heart of it all.

Baker has always looked at sex workers with empathy, as shown in his films Tangerine and The Florida Project. His lens is both unflinching and tender, allowing him to look beyond the surface of poverty and marginalization to capture the indomitable spirit that burns fiercely within these women. Baker’s film is an ode to resilience. There is grit among the grittiness.

Anora is a film that rebels against being labelled. Within its intricately crafted—and frequently mad—cacophony, Baker has managed to create a piece of art that is at once outrageously fun and devastatingly poignant. He shifts gears like a getaway driver, and takes us along for the ride.

To me, what makes Anora such a powerful and original achievement is its refusal to be anything less than unabashedly, brilliantly human. Baker has conjured up something special, something alive, a treatise on superficiality and sex and fairy tales we force ourselves to believe in just in order to get through the day. With performances that burn with an incandescent authenticity—led by a transcendent Mikey Madison—Anora dares to embrace its contradictions and, in doing so, creates a dazzling mosaic of life as we know it. It’s messy, it’s inevitable and—in the cold light of morning—not quite what we hoped it would be. Yet, like a great movie that finds you when you least expect it, some things shine through. Anora may not be a diamond, but she’s bloody bright.

Streaming tip of the week:

Anora reminded me of 2 movies, available for rent on Amazon Video: Martin Scorsese’s After Hours is an underrated gem about a New York night that refuses to end; In My Cousin Vinny, a brilliant Marisa Tomei, like Anora, plays a Brooklyn woman who knows what she knows and refuses to shut up about it.