Anora (2024) A fairy tale unraveled by harsh realities

Anora (2024) is a film that doesn’t offer easy answers or comforting narratives. Instead, it dives deep into the complexities of identity, survival, and the choices that define us, all through the lens of its protagonist, Anora (Mikey Madison). The film’s portrayal of Anora’s struggles, particularly within the context of sex work, is as unflinching as it is empathetic. It’s not about moralizing; it’s about showing the gritty, painful reality of a woman who is doing what she must to survive, even as she wrestles with her own vulnerabilities.

Madison’s portrayal of Anora is the film’s anchor. She brings a rawness to the character that keeps you invested in her journey, even when it seems as though she’s drifting further away from any semblance of hope. There’s no glorification here, but rather a quiet complexity that allows Anora to be simultaneously strong and fragile. One of the film’s most striking moments comes when Anora, alone after a particularly draining shift, reflects quietly: “You don’t know how hard it is to just want something real.” It’s a line that lands with a devastating weight, capturing the emotional heart of the film.

Anora doesn’t shy away from the realities of the world she inhabits. The scenes in the club where Anora works are not gratuitous; they’re matter-of-fact, placing the viewer in the space without sensationalizing it. The film is interested in portraying Anora’s life with honesty, rather than framing it as a mere tragedy. In one particular moment, Anora looks into a mirror after a long night and, without a word, her exhaustion is palpable. The camera holds her, letting the silence of the moment speak volumes. These are the kinds of scenes where Anora earns its emotional weight—not through excessive dialogue, but through the stillness of human experience.

Supporting performances also play a key role in rounding out Anora’s world. Yura Borisov as Igor, a complicated figure in Anora’s life, brings a depth to the relationship that is both tender and strained. The dynamic between the two of them is one of the film’s most interesting, as it mirrors the internal conflict Anora faces between connection and self-preservation. In one quiet, lingering scene in the car, Anora’s tears—silent, unspoken—say everything about the fragility of her emotional landscape. This is a film that does not rush to resolve its characters’ conflicts, letting them unfold slowly and, at times, painfully.

The film initially presents itself with a fairy-tale-like allure, almost reminiscent of Cinderella—Anora starts off in a world that seems full of promise, a young woman on the cusp of something better. But this illusion quickly dissolves as the film delves into the harsher, more complex realities she faces. What begins as a hopeful narrative soon reveals itself to be a sobering exploration of survival, stripping away any semblance of fantasy

Anora’s journey is messy, complex, and unresolved by the end, but that’s exactly what makes it feel real. The film leaves the audience with more questions than answers, a reflection of the complexity of the issues it raises.

One of Anora’s strongest points is its ability to highlight the intersection of personal trauma with the external forces that shape the character. The club Anora works at is not portrayed as the sole defining feature of her life, but rather as one part of a larger narrative—her struggles with identity, with her place in the world, and with the emotional cost of her survival. It’s a film that, rather than giving us clear moral judgments, invites us to sit with the discomfort of its protagonist’s reality.

While the film’s rawness may be uncomfortable for some, it’s this very unflinching approach that makes Anora stand out in a genre that often seeks to simplify or sensationalize. The film doesn’t try to make Anora’s life “redemptive” in the traditional sense; instead, it shows the quiet, painful persistence of a person who refuses to let life entirely defeat her, even if it doesn’t offer her a way out. The ending of Anora, which leaves her standing in the wreckage of her choices, feels more honest than a neatly tied-up resolution would have. It’s a film about survival in a world that doesn’t make room for easy answers, and it asks difficult questions without pretending to have all the solutions.

Ultimately, Anora is a film about survival—both physical and emotional. It’s not just about a woman in the grip of difficult circumstances; it’s about what happens when survival is no longer enough. It’s

a film that proves how powerful cinema can be when it allows its characters to be fully realized, messy and all. The ending, much like Anora’s journey, is open-ended, but it feels true to the character and her story.