In the very south of Brooklyn, where migrants from all over the world are crowded, young Anora gives herself to Morpheus only with a predawn glow. When she hides her hands under her pillow, the streets are filled with bustling cars and sleepy pedestrians. Some are in a hurry to hide in the work routine, while others are idle in the direction of the store for a pack of cigarettes.
Away from the girl who falls asleep, the ocean rushes to the beach with cotton salty. As a relentless suicidal man who desperately clings to the noose, he aspires to devour the man-made world, but fails over and over again. As if to mock his efforts, smiling and fearless swimmers dive into the freezing waters all over the sandy edge.
While others are invigorated by the cold wind and obsessive aspirations, Anora finally dissolves into dreams. She no longer bothers her sister's usual discontent, the gnashing of a slow subway car, or her own longing. Everyday life, with all its painful mockery and alluring illusions, pales in the imagination of an exhausted mind.
As dusk approaches, the girl will open her sleepy eyes, stretch out lazily, and face an unsightly reality for a while. She is in her early twenties, her body is full of energy and sparkling with beauty, and her faith in a fairy tale, although full of holes, like the morning fog, has not yet completely melted away. But the obsessive idea that only a miracle can save her is increasingly frightening because of its inevitability.
After sunset, Anora will return to “adult” activities. Bright makeup, long heels and tight clothes will alienate her from the expressionless life on the outskirts of New York and bring her closer to nightlife, every splash of which promises endless hope. After all, she does not earn money as a virtuous striptease, who periodically slips into an escort.
For a girl who has neither education nor the support of her loved ones, the body is an impersonal tool, not unlike a knife in the hands of a cook. One day, her humanity split, her flesh separated from her soul and became an independent entity. At that moment, Cinderella realized that she had more than a simple slipper at her disposal.
In a completely different reality, Ivan ends his youth. The son of a Russian oligarch with unlimited access to money is getting ready for the life his parents have invented for him. He will soon return to Moscow, where he will start working for his father's company, leaving behind him carelessness, permissiveness, and a few young guys whom loneliness has turned into his buddies.
Ivan is almost the same as Anora. Both of them are not satisfied with the looming prospects and are dreaming about something else. The only difference is that Ivan's real life is that unattainable dream for Anora. She is attracted to the opportunity to have nothing to herself or dance at night for men who reptile in front of their petty vices.
In “Anora”, named after the main character, Sean Baker confronts recent children who have not fully understood the rules of the world around them. Despite obvious hints, they continue to fantasize desperately and do not want to admit that they are in a cemetery of illusions about an easy and beautiful life, whose cadaveric aroma permeates modernity.
The situation changes when two restless souls meet. Private dance, sex with a taste of money and some alcohol complete the job — Ivan and Anora find in each other the solution to all problems. A restless guy will be able to wipe the nose of demanding parents, and the nocturnal butterfly will finally get enough sleep. All you need is to have a tiny wedding. And in the blink of an eye, the ridiculous idea comes true.
The carriage, which planned to turn into a pumpkin at midnight, has become a bronzed symbol of happiness to come. The high-heeled shoe went into the depths of the closet after the provocative underwear. And the vague future has acquired attractive features. Great hopes came true unexpectedly.
The catch is that nothing lasts forever — at least death will tear even the most stubborn apart. But young people don't have to wait for her either. After a couple of days of family life, instead of a bony old woman, polite but inappropriately persistent Armenians knock on their door. Ivan's parents found out about his trick, and the long-awaited happiness is about to burst in a soap bubble.
The picture, which at first is indistinguishable from a classic fairy tale, does not just reinterpret or deconstruct it. By placing a familiar story in modern times, Shawn Baker demonstrates that it is fundamentally irrelevant to current realities. A similar break in eras was captured by Alice Rohrwacher in “Happy as Lazzaro” when she hinted that humanity doesn't care about saints and their miracles for a long time.
But Shawn Baker is not looking for those responsible for such an unsightly state of affairs. In his interpretation, Ivan, who deliberately breaks Anora's dream, is as much a hostage to circumstances as she is. Neither prosperity nor enviable prospects can protect you from injuries that go hand in hand with high hopes. Sooner or later, everyone will stumble over their own ego and taste real life along with the taste of blood.
With another pre-dawn glow, Anora, tearful, will fall into her bed. The illusions and endless celebration that have beckoned for so long with their lightness and simplicity will fall on her delicate skin and heart with crimson abrasions. The fairy tale will come to an end even before it blossoms in a lush bud. But this tragedy will not hide the collapse of high hopes, but liberation from their pernicious breath.