Anora tells the tale of a Brooklyn stripper and the son of a Russian oligarch – it opens to the sound of German producer Robin Schulz’ take on Mancunian band Take That’s 2008 single “Greatest Day” (No.1 single in the UK, never charted in the US, penned by Gary Barlow of Frodsham, Cheshire).
Such an atypical song choice proves indicative of the atypical way in which the film itself unfolds. Anora is a genreless gem: equal parts comedy, romance, gangster, action, and drama. It’s a film where there’s never more than 30 seconds of dialogue before the next “fucking motherfucker”, and one where the closing scene is the most emotionally devastating of the year.
We watch the initial heady, ludicrous romance of the titular Anora and Vanya (a stellar Mikey Madison and a puppyish Mark Eidelstein) as they progress from meeting in Anora’s strip club, to listening to bassy Russian hip-hop in Vanya’s mansion, to getting married in a Las Vegas chapel.
“Are you serious?”, Anora questions upon Vanya’s proposal.
“Yes”, he responds, looking at her with the most severe facial expression his juvenile features can summon, “and I said it… twicely”.
Newly-wed bliss lasts for a few days before Vanya’s parents catch wind of their son’s “bad behaviour” (i.e., marrying – in their words – “a prostitute”), and send their henchmen on the case.
From here onwards, the film becomes a farcical display of the every actor’s comedic mastery, as some good old-fashioned goons try – and fail – to intimidate Anora into annulling the marriage (with Vanya having promptly fled their shared abode, clad in nothing but a loose-fitting tracksuit and designer sunglasses).
Noses get broken, mouths get gagged, shoulders get bitten; and throughout it all, Anora remains steadfast in her belief in her husband and the purity of their marriage. It’s here where the film’s undercurrent of deep, heavy emotion touches the surface. The audience gets so caught up in the chaos and adrenaline of the Armenian Henchmen / Brooklyn Erotic Dancer / Missing Russian Oligarch Manboy, as they search, hide, and lose their minds all across New York, that they forget the central truth here. That is, that love isn’t always true; and that the rich always get an easy exit.
Anora finishes in stark contrast to its beginnings in the vibrant and noisy high-end strip club of the couple’s twisted meet-cute. We conclude inside of a dull grey car, parked somewhere in the downtrodden sleeting city. The only sound is of the windscreen wipers and our heroine sobbing, as the screen turns black and the credits roll.
llustration by Rani Dewan