Anora’s Good Samaritan

Anora, which won Best Picture at this year’s Oscars, is a debauched, Cinderella-inspired, trauma-bonding sprint.

Winner of five Academy Awards overall, including writing, directing, and editing honors for Sean Baker, the movie leaves audiences with much to ponder—not just regarding its content, but also in terms of the film industry and what it really takes to win an Oscar. Amidst all of this, there is also something of a parable at work, one that’s reminiscent of the parable of the good Samaritan.

First, some words of caution.

The thrill of Anora comes in the journey. The film entrances viewers through a familiar excess of pleasures, only to drag them on a roller-coaster ride of anxiety, tension, hope, anger, sadness, frustration, and finally catharsis. It is reminiscent of 2019’s exasperating Uncut Gems. If you know, you know. Don’t say you weren’t warned!

Onward.

Once upon a time in Brooklyn, there lived a young exotic dancer named Anora (Mikey Madison, who won Best Actress). One night at work, she meets Vanya (Mark Eydelshteyn), the wayward son of a Russian oligarch family. Anora, who prefers to go by Ani, and Vanya hit it off. Vanya decides to buy Ani’s services outside of work and pays her to be his girlfriend for a week. Their whirlwind romance takes them to Las Vegas, where they get married. They live in a state of newlywed bliss for a few days, until Vanya’s evil parents find out their son has married an alleged sex worker. They send his godfather, Toros (Karren Karagulian), and two henchmen to take care of the situation.

From the beginning, Anora is seen through other people’s perspectives. Ogled for consumption, she is seen as an object and commodity. Men buy her services, projecting their expectations and desires onto her. Anora’s perspective is barely portrayed in the film. She is the object, but not the subjective narrator. Instead much of the film is portrayed through the male gaze. Even in her own story, she is an outsider. Almost no one truly sees her.

Even so, we get the sense that marrying Vanya was more than just a ticket out of Anora’s situation. It was an adoption through marriage. It was about belonging with and to a family. (Spoilers ahead.) And so when Toros and the henchmen first arrive, she clings to her fairy tale. She argues with Toros about his demand for an annulment. Later, she speaks to Vanya’s parents in Russian, showing that she is like them, that she can fit in and learn to play her part in their family. But at this point even Vanya has made it clear that he bought Anora’s time and performance. He saw her as a tool to get away from his parents. Ultimately, he shows that she doesn’t belong with him.

Before Jesus shared the parable of the good Samaritan, a law expert asked him, “Who is my neighbor?” In other words, who belongs? Jesus’ answer was not about who to exclude and who to include. The parable is about how to bring others into belonging. The Samaritan saw the man on the road, really saw him—not as someone to rob, not as a nuisance, not as a threat. He saw a man in need of help. Belonging comes from the ways in which we are seen. But not just seen, as such. Not watched or subjected to someone else’s gaze. Belonging comes from how we are experienced and beheld. Belonging comes from being witnessed.

In Anora, it is one of the henchmen, Igor (Yura Borisov), who subverts the male gaze. Igor ceases to see Anora as an object and begins to see her as an active agent in her story. He is surprised by her fight, attentive to her needs, and even roots for her with the faintest of smirks when Anora plans to get a divorce lawyer. Igor witnesses Anora, seeing her resolve, her strength, her wit, her vulnerability, and her pain. He sees her not as a nuisance, a problem to solve, or someone to control.

In a late scene in which the two of them are alone, Igor tells Anora, “I tried to support you.” This is one of the only scenes where the camera pointedly takes on Anora’s perspective, as she looks back at Igor. “I like Anora. I mean, I like Anora more than Ani,” he says. A lot of words seem to get lost in translation and the aftermath of trauma here. But she seems to understand what is not easily said with words: I see you. I choose to see you, not as a spectator, and not as the expectations others have placed on you. I see you, I experience you, I behold you, I witness you. Near the end of the film, as they are about to part ways, Igor appears to offer: “There is belonging here.”

These witnessing agents of belonging are outsiders without power. In Jesus’ parable, the Samaritan is systemically excluded, reviled by the Jewish community to which Jesus was speaking. In Anora, Igor is an underling who is only supposed to follow orders. Yet, it is these marginal characters, with uncalloused hearts, who witness and offer belonging. The parable of the good Samaritan teaches us how to love our neighbor, be an agent of belonging, and even how to inherit eternal life. Witnessing and belonging are not passive. They do not come from institutions or the centers of power. Anyone is able to be a witness and be an agent of belonging. We just need hearts that are open to seeing our neighbors.

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At Think Christian, we encourage careful cultural discernment. We recognize and respect that many Christians choose not to engage with pop culture that contains particular content, such as abuse, sex, violence, alcohol or drug use, or that employs the use of coarse language. To that end, we suggest visiting Common Sense Media for detailed information regarding the content of the particular pieces of pop culture discussed in this article.