Rapper Pusha T is famous for drawing deeply from his time as a drug dealer in his lyrics; in particular, more than half of his lyrics reference cocaine. His response to critics who suggest that he should diversify his lyrics has remained constant throughout his career: "I like to call myself the Martin Scorsese of street rap. [...] No one ever asked Scorsese to make Gone With the Wind," he said in an interview after the release of his acclaimed 2022 album It's Almost Dry. And it's true; the depth of his double- and triple-entendres, the visceral scenes painted by his words, and the dark humor in his songs keep listeners entertained and guessing despite the unchanging subject matter. Grammy noms and Billboard-topping albums don't lie.

In the same vein, director Sean Baker is one of the most exciting, inventive, and genuine directors of his generation, but by some criticisms keeps making "the same movie" — a seedy and unglamorous look into the lives of the American underclass. Sex workers, especially, star in all three of his most famous works: 2021's Red Rocket features a newly-retired male porn star, 2017's The Florida Project finds a single mom turning to sex work in the grimy suburbs outside Disneyworld to make ends meet for her daughter, and 2015's Tangerine centers on a transgender sex worker's chaotic Christmas Eve in Los Angeles. But to undersell his talent because of this common thread would be akin to counting out Pusha T's discography or Scorsese's Goodfellas. 

Baker's latest movie, Anora, appears on its face to succumb to "the same movie" trope, featuring a stripper in New York falling for a rich Russian customer. But the film, which won the Palme d'Or at this year's Cannes Film Festival, is a joyous, manic romp from the beaches of Coney Island to the chapels of Las Vegas and private jet hangars everywhere in between, subverting expectations of the classic "hooker with a heart of gold" stock character story and even the rest of Baker's filmography. 

The story opens on Anora, nicknamed "Ani", the aforementioned Brooklyn stripper. In her mid-20s, she's clearly good at her job, but clashes with customers and fellow strippers alike in her upscale Manhattan club. Because of her Brighton Beach background, though, she's introduced one night to Ivan, nicknamed "Vanya", the heir to some oligarch back in Russia who's spending his youth, and his dad's money, partying across the United States. He's immediately smitten with Ani and her rusty Russian accent, and after several successful nights together and one blowout New Year's Eve party, offers her thousands of dollars to be his "girlfriend" for a week. Ani accepts, seemingly excited for the cash but also developing a real crush. 

The whirlwind week involves a luxe spur-of-the-moment trip to Las Vegas, and although we keep getting the sense that something might go wrong, nothing does. Vanya is young and dumb but surprisingly kind and chivalrous; Ani clearly likes him but also keeps her guard up enough; their friends are obviously hangers-on, but seem to bring good vibes. This sense of safety follows through an offhand proposal that turns real, and soon enough Ani and Vanya are married in a Vegas chapel and back to Brooklyn to begin their wedded bliss. 

But, of course, this can't last forever. Signs begin piling up that Vanya's parents not only don't know he's married, but would be extremely disapproving if they did know. So, when they find out, the movie ramps up into Baker-classic overdrive, and a multi-borough, multi-city game of hide-and-seek ensues between Ani, Vanya, Vanya's goon handlers, Vanya's parents back in Moscow, and all sorts of Brooklyn lowlife figures. It's a blast. 

Baker's directorial skill shines brilliantly throughout the 139-minute runtime, combining Gen Z's raucous aphorisms, love of screentime (videogames, FaceTime, selfies), and devil-may-care youth with more serious undercurrents of wealth, class, gender roles, and child-parent power dynamics. Some of the line reads are more cuttingly absurd than anything released since last year's Bottoms, and the portrait of the underbelly of a big city is more chaotic and seedy than any theatrical release since the pre-pandemic Uncut Gems. Perhaps most impressively, the script and story arc walk the fine line between the poverty-driven anxieties of Baker's Tangerine and The Florida Project, and Cinderella-story dreamlike aspirations of ease and comfort. 

Without ever delving too deeply into either, Baker guides us flawlessly through a New York, and main characters, that can coexist on both sides of that class divide. The story unfolds hectically when it needs to, such as in the frenetic Vegas trip that culminates in a rushed marriage, or in a strip club brawl. But perhaps more importantly, Baker's script really lets us soak in moments where we need to be patient, such as when Ani's newfound fantasy comes crashing down in a long hostage-adjacent scenario, or in the denouement giving closure to a key relationship.

A love story (however dysfunctional!) is only as good as its leads, and Mikey Madison and Mark Eydelshteyn blow their leading actor debuts out of the water here. Madison is truly a star, shiny and glittering (as on the movie's poster) whether gyrating for tips or batting eyelashes at a new hubby... or cussing out a Russian Orthodox pastor and fighting for her life against hired thugs. Hers is a flawed character, but a strategic one, and it's a pleasure to watch her learn when to hold her ground and when to step back. A prolonged spat between her, Vanya, and his parents finds her taking small losses for a larger, still-Pyrrhic victory. And although Eydelshteyn doesn't quite hit Madison's brilliance, he wins us over and convinces us, and Anora, that everything will be okay thanks to entertaining boyishness, on display in the good (a winning smile) and the bad (a cowardly abscondment). Through their ups and downs, we never doubt their Romeo-and-Juliet initial chemistry, which makes its doomed outcome all the more painful. Did we know deep down there was no other way it could end? 

Alongside Yura Borisov, Karren Karagulian, and Vache Tovmasyan as henchmen hired by Vanya's family, there are so many laugh-out-loud exchanges, especially across languages: Borisov's English and Russian are equally tight-lipped as he repeatedly bites his tongue against superiors; Karagulian's bewildered Armenian reflects how badly he just wants to go home; and Tovmasyan is equally exhausted, and his dialogue is even secondary to some hilarious physical performances. 

Set design situates us squarely in Brooklyn mainstays, and I loved seeing some personal favorite spots make cameos, such as Russian restaurant Tatiana's on the Coney Island Boardwalk. In turn, the soundtrack is just as clubby and thumping and fun as Baker's other works, but has an even more eclectic pop taste, such as a climactic scene which begins with Slayyyter's "Daddy AF" and ends with "Where the Hood At" by DMX. That's crazy! 

Baker has spent a career imbuing genuine, flawed humanity in characters from all walks of life. Anora is yet another notch in a celebrated belt for thoughtfully telling the stories of sex workers, but also offers an optimistically complex, humanizing take on all sorts of other tropes. A Russian oligarch father isn't nearly as bloodthirsty as we expect, and spends most of his screentime giggling; a silent skinhead hired hand actually may have his ward's best interests at heart; people really do have the capacity to surprise us. And so even with his glossiest movie to date, Baker continues to impress with real insights into the tragicomedy of America's urban underbelly.