Anora, which recently won five Oscars including Best Picture, is pure porn. Former U.S. Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart put it best when he wrote of pornography: “I know it when I see it.”
Responsible parents will know Anora is inappropriate viewing material for children too, including teens. Though the media have tried to disguise the film as a tragic twist on Cinderella, it’s not even in the same ballpark as Pretty Woman.
The “R”-rated Anora — which should have received the now-defunct “X” rating or at least “NC-17” — follows the decadent, madcap adventures of a 23-year-old Russian-American prostitute named Ani (aka Anora) who marries Ivan (aka Vanya), the 21-year-old son of a Russian oligarch. In the opening scene, prostitutes perform lap dances for customers before peeling off for sex in private rooms. Loud music pulses throughout, synchronized with on-screen gyrations.
When the film’s stars aren’t having sex, they’re usually drinking, taking drugs, or shouting profanities. The F-bomb litters the script, with a smattering of F-based derivatives thrown in when Ani yells at an Armenian priest. (The director also won an Oscar for best original screenplay — go figure.) Ivan’s family has hired the priest and a pair of thugs to break up the couple and secure an annulment, which they ultimately accomplish.
Released in October 2024, the film is already streaming on pay-per-view. But on March 17, it debuts on the Disney-owned Hulu streaming service, where no ID flashing is required. Yes, parental controls exist — and theoretically could better shield children from objectionable content than even some cable channels of yesteryear — but kids are increasingly tech savvy.
“Too few parents use parental controls, with nearly half saying they are unnecessary because an adult is always nearby when the child watches television,” Melissa Henson, vice president of programs at Parents Television and Media Council, told me. “But how often is that adult distracted or otherwise occupied? Another one-third say they trust their child to make their own decisions. But how often are these choices rooted in a solid and accurate understanding?”
Like the excuses of porn apologists, artistic defenses of Anora fall flat. More than once, I found myself thinking, “This is boring,” during another repetitive scene. The movie never seems quite sure what it wants to be — hence, the media labels of comedy, drama, and romance. The director said he wanted to allow for audience interpretation, but the film’s elaborate conceit required little ingenuity. “I didn’t want to make a gangster movie,” the director said during an interview. “I was on Zoom with this consultant when I said, ‘How about if she just marries the son of a Russian oligarch?’” The result is slapdash.
The film has a pro-prostitution agenda too, as reiterated in the leading actress’s multiple award acceptance speeches where she committed her allyship to the “sex worker community.” Anora is reportedly filmmaker Sean Baker’s fifth film about prostitutes. In a pivotal scene, Ani confronts her boss, telling him she’s taking a week off after negotiating a $15,000 fee with Ivan for a week of exclusive sex. When her boss objects to her leaving, she retorts that he can tell her what to do after he provides health insurance, a 401K, and worker’s comp. I’m sure millions of hard-working freelancers like me would love to have those perks. In case you didn’t know, the movement for recognition of the rights of prostitutes is a long-standing one.
If the movie has any redeeming value, it’s in its unintended commentary on the sad state of marriage and relationships in the United States. In many ways, Ani and Ivan stand in for many lost young people in our hook-up culture with few role models. Clearly the product of a broken home, Ani tells Ivan her mother lives in Miami with some man — no mention of a father. A child of privilege, Ivan’s absentee parents are content to throw him money and allow him to fend for himself until he needs bailing out.
Both are immature children locked in adult bodies. In between sex, Ani tries to engage Ivan in conversation. He’s usually distracted with his gamepad.
Ani’s understanding of marriage parallels a little girl’s: the glitz, the big engagement ring, the honeymoon in Disney World she dreams about. She’s oblivious that the marriage caper Ivan drags her on to Las Vegas is merely his latest rebellious escapade.
Though Ani doesn’t fully understand the nature of the relationship she commits to, it’s real for her. When Ivan first talks about marriage, Ani’s mood turns serious. She challenges him not to tease her, finally consenting when he assures her his proposal is genuine.
Marrying into wealth provides Ani an escape hatch from prostitution, and she enjoys Ivan’s lavish spending. Still, she senses there’s more to marriage than its outward appearance. Why else would she throw a fit, kick, scream, bite, and do everything else within her limited power to stop the annulment?
After the thugs turn up, Ivan runs off. We’re never quite sure why until near the end, after he’s caught and goes along with the annulment.
Desperate, Ani pleads with whoever will listen. “This is a real marriage, and I’m not getting a divorce,” she shouts. It takes both thugs to hold her down and pull the engagement ring off her finger. “I’m his wife,” she tells a judge in a rare moment of calm. “We are legally married.” Alone and powerless, she finally relents and signs the annulment papers, fully aware she’s been railroaded.
Millions of spouses divorced against their will under our nation’s unilateral no-fault divorce laws will relate to her desperation. They have no power to save their marriages either. The law rips our rights, liberties, and families out from under us too, no matter how loudly we protest or how hard we fight.
In the last scene of Anora, Ani begins to perform a sexual favor to thank the thug who brought her home before dissolving into tears. It’s the first moment she allows herself to feel the full anguish of betrayal and grieve the loss of a relationship she barely possessed but yearned for.
These final scenes could have provided teachable moments between parents and teens — but nobody needs to watch porn to have those.
