Anora

Written By Veronica Blade

Directed by Sean Baker

Oh, Anora. If you want to witness the cinematic equivalent of a beautifully iced cake being left out in the rain—slowly melting, still sweet, vaguely tragic—then by all means, book your ticket. This is not a film, it’s a postmodern fairy tale, surgically dissected and stitched back together by a director clearly weaned on Cassavetes and vodka.

Sean Baker, that patron saint of the American fringe, has finally dropped the glitter-bomb he’s been threatening us with since Tangerine. Anora is the tale of a Brooklyn stripper (played with tragic, glimmering vitality by Mikey Madison) who accidentally marries the son of a Russian oligarch in what can only be described as the most deranged Cinderella story this side of Requiem for a Dream. Except instead of glass slippers, she’s tottering around in Lucite heels, and the pumpkin carriage is an Uber with a broken AC.

Now, don’t get me wrong—Baker isn’t making fun of Anora. He adores her. She’s luminous, raw, street-smart with a heart shaped like a cracked Fabergé egg. And the film, in its shambling, documentary-drenched way, worships at her altar. But let’s be honest: this isn’t really about love or marriage. This is about capitalism, honey—about what gets sold, what gets bought, and who gets left holding the receipt.

Some might call it a satire. Others a tragedy. I call it what it is: a millennial screwball comedy wrapped in a TikTok stripper pole, dipped in the tears of Marina Abramović. We’re meant to laugh and weep in the same breath, and God help me, I did.

The cinematography does that fly-on-the-wall schtick that Baker loves, and at this point, he's perfected it. It's so naturalistic it borders on voyeuristic, like you’re watching someone else's life unfold and wondering if you should really be seeing this. Spoiler: you should.

The final act—when the real family shows up—is so tense, so unnervingly grotesque, I felt like I was watching Meet the Parents reimagined by the Safdie brothers. It’s not just culture clash. It’s class warfare with caviar breath and manicures.

And let’s take a moment for Mikey Madison. She’s phenomenal. A chaotic swirl of naivety, bravado, and broken dreams. She's not playing a stripper, she is the stripping away of every bourgeois fantasy we’ve ever had about "making it."

In the end, Anora is less a movie than a prayer for survival in a world where women are expected to sell themselves—and smile while doing it. It’s both deeply feminist and depressingly accurate.

So, should you see Anora? Absolutely. But don’t expect a rescue. This isn’t Pretty Woman—it’s Princess Anastasia meets Uncut Gems, and the only thing being saved here is your illusion that love conquers all. Sometimes, it just swipes left.

3.5 out of 5 Molotovs

Veronica Blade

Born in Detroit in the late 70s to a unionized auto worker and a punk-rock-loving librarian, Veronica Blade was raised on equal doses of riot grrrl zines and vintage vinyl. Her adolescence was marked by a fierce independence, cultivated in the DIY music scene and sharpened by her participation in underground theatre collectives that tackled police violence, reproductive rights, and queer identity. After a short-lived attempt at an art school degree, Veronica left academia to tour with a feminist noise band called Her Majesty’s Razor, where she performed spoken word over industrial soundscapes in squats and protest camps across North America.

By her early 30s, she had moved to New York, where she lived in a Bushwick warehouse with performance artists, fire-eaters, and ex-dominatrixes. Here she co-founded Molotov Darlings, a guerrilla performance troupe known for their impromptu shows in front of hedge fund offices and their reimagining of Greek tragedies through a queer-anarchist lens. Her visual essays, blending collage and scathing satire, began circulating widely online, catching the attention of the alt-arts community and eventually being featured in fringe art festivals in Berlin, Montreal, and Melbourne.

Career Highlights:

  • 2007 – Co-wrote Vulvatron, a graphic novel hailed as “explosive, obscene, and essential reading” by Broken Pencil Magazine.

  • 2010 – Guest-curated the controversial exhibition Grrrls with Grenades at a renegade gallery in Brooklyn, which explored the aesthetics of feminine rage through street art, sculpture, and drag.

  • 2013 – Published a widely shared essay The Clitoris is a Political Weapon on feminist blogosphere site Jezebitch, which was banned in five countries and taught in two liberal arts colleges.

  • 2016 – Arrested during a protest performance at a tech conference where she set fire to a mannequin dressed as a Silicon Valley bro, gaining notoriety as both artist and agitator.

  • 2019 – Shortlisted for the Audre Lorde Radical Voices Fellowship for her anthology Blood Ink: Writings from the Queer Body Underground.

  • 2021 – Wrote a monthly column called Art Slaps for the experimental culture journal NoiseMuse, dissecting art world hypocrisies with her signature wit and fury.

Veronica Blade brings with her a reputation for fearless critique, raw intellect, and an unrelenting commitment to smashing patriarchy with glitter, words, and duct tape

Previous

Small Things Like These