Sean Baker’s films consistently offer a rare, level perspective, avoiding both forced sympathy and sensationalism. He shows us that in the marginalized, rusty corners of society, there are people living with remarkable resilience.
The 97th Academy Awards saw Anora sweep the board, claiming Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actress, Best Original Screenplay, and Best Film Editing. Director Sean Baker’s commitment to low-budget, independent filmmaking seems to signal a shift in the Oscars’ values.
However, Anora hasn’t resonated as well with Chinese audiences, earning a modest 6.6 on Douban from nearly 90,000 ratings. Critics often dismiss it as another “white male director’s fantasy” of a “damsel in distress” narrative.
The film tells the story of Anora, an American stripper who unexpectedly meets Ivan, a wealthy Russian, leading to a brief taste of upward mobility before a swift fall. Beneath this familiar plot lies Baker’s focus on ordinary people caught in the web of globalized class inequality. What’s particularly commendable is his choice to present characters with a non-judgmental, realistic eye.
A seemingly glamorous story of a working woman. (Image: Anora)
Throughout his 20-year career, Baker has consistently focused on sex workers. Long before the film industry began prioritizing diversity and equality due to political and social pressures, Baker has been highlighting marginalized groups in America, including undocumented immigrant delivery workers, the homeless, and transgender individuals. He’s even been hailed as “the most trustworthy director of the post-#MeToo era” on Wikipedia. Yet, with Anora, he’s facing a less welcoming reception from audiences across the ocean.
This brings to mind two recent hot topics: retired gymnast Wu Liufang facing criticism for “suggestive” dancing in her livestream, and Fang Si-chi’s First Love Paradise being labeled “weak woman literature” for its protagonist’s use of literature to cope with abuse, deemed “harmful to female resistance.”
The criticism of Anora echoes these sentiments. If Anora were a social media influencer in China, she might face similar scrutiny, as she’s neither an innocent victim nor a shrewd “strong woman.”
In a way, the criticism leveled at Anora is similar to these two incidents – perhaps in the desire for women to receive fair and equal treatment, people inadvertently reject the harsh and complex reality.
A Tale of a Sex Worker, A Tale of a Working Stiff
Anora is essentially a working-class story disguised as a “rescue” narrative.
Anora is a stripper working in a Brooklyn club. As a first-generation American citizen of immigrant descent, she embodies the typical traits of Gen Z in the American working class. She’s self-centered, reminding her boss to pay her social security and demanding music that suits her taste. She casually drops “I don’t fucking care.” If someone tries to flirt with her during lunch, she asserts her working-class principles: “Leave me alone, it’s my break.”
As a young and attractive stripper, she firmly believes in the transactional value of her body, her “erotic capital.” She’s an excellent salesperson, knowing how to smile and flatter customers to loosen their wallets. The camera then follows her as she returns home after a long night, dark circles under her eyes, to her apartment next to the train tracks.
Anora believes she can exchange her body for value. (Image: Anora)
Then, a dreamlike opportunity for upward mobility appears. Ivan, the son of a Russian oligarch, proposes to her after a few pleasant encounters. Faced with such a tempting offer, she’s initially incredulous, testing the waters. But, fueled by the thought of “Why not me?”, she accepts and gets married. However, this dream quickly reveals its illusory nature, lasting less than 24 hours.
A dream about to shatter. (Image: Anora)
When Toros, the Russian oligarch’s Armenian “fixer,” and his temporary assistant Igor receive their orders, they immediately set out to end the marriage.
The previously generous and romantic Ivan suddenly turns into a child, escaping the house like a monkey. For him, the promise of marriage is worthless; he only wants to avoid his parents’ control. But for Anora, this marriage is everything. She’s quit her job at the strip club and must fight for her rights. What follows is a hilarious journey as the fixer and Anora team up to find the young master.
Anora’s American mindset tells her that in this “free” country, people can freely control their bodies and rights. However, she soon realizes that even in America, the law primarily constrains ordinary people like her. The oligarch’s family’s “superpower” isn’t holding a gun to your head, but knowing how to use connections to easily shake off ordinary people through “legal” means.
When she and Ivan are detained on a private jet, Anora tries to appeal to her “mother-in-law.” The arrogant oligarch’s wife shatters her last illusion with a single word: “whore.” Anora realizes she’ll never belong to that high society, and her confidence, fueled by her erotic capital and the freedom afforded by her American identity, is ultimately insignificant in the face of oligarchic capital.
Anora witnesses the absurdity of high society. (Image: Anora)
Frankly, the award-winning Anora isn’t Baker’s best film. The destructive exploitation of the lower class by the wealthy isn’t a new theme. The traditional three-act structure, combined with the comedic style of dramatic class mobility, makes this Baker’s least “realistic” film.
However, its value lies in Baker’s consistent level gaze at people. Anora isn’t a perfect victim. She’s vain, her eyes lighting up at the sight of expensive diamonds. She’s snobbish, looking down on working-class people who are actually on her level, and she’s extremely flattering to wealthy people who might benefit her. Her vibrant vitality lies in her refusal to surrender when suppressed, instead fighting back with a fierce roar, making her opponents’ suppression seem ridiculous.
Some say this fight scene is probably the ugliest in film history, with people twisting together without any strategy, their movements extremely uncoordinated. But perhaps that’s what a real fight is like. Everyone is exhausted and just wants to finish work and go home.
Igor, eager to finish work and go home. (Image: Anora)
Amidst the dark humor, the director gradually enriches the characters. The seemingly foolish and dull temporary worker Igor shows sympathy for Anora while carrying out his task, leading to Anora repeatedly turning the tables on him.
And Toros, the fixer, is actually working two jobs, serving as a church pastor while doing dirty work for the oligarch when needed. During the search, Toros has several moments of impotent rage, worrying about getting his car dirty and being scolded by his wife, and scolding young people for only using Instagram and lying flat all day. These details, seemingly useless to the main plot but incredibly real, gradually flesh out the character.
Here, you suddenly realize that Anora, who should be an innocent victim, is noisy and unreasonable, with surprising strength, while these Armenian henchmen, who should be evil or foolish, also have their endearing qualities.
However, this de-stereotyping of characters also tests and torments the audience. Because good and evil are removed, viewers may feel angry and lost, unable to find a suitable moral stance.
A Faithful Record Without Moralizing
As a white, heterosexual man from a middle-class family, Sean Baker is something of an anomaly. His films consistently focus on marginalized people outside the mainstream, making protagonists of undocumented immigrant delivery workers, transgender people in red-light districts, mothers and daughters in slums near Orlando’s Disney World, and even the “rednecks” of American stereotype.
Sean Baker showcases his favorite films. (Image: Criterion Collection Director Interview)
Since making Starlet in 2012, Baker has been consistently focused on sex workers. He began interacting extensively with sex workers and befriended many of them, realizing that “there are countless stories in this adult world.” He hopes to eliminate the stigma surrounding this way of making a living by telling universal human stories. (Note that the debate over whether sex work should be legalized is another matter).
Viewers are quick to assume that sex workers’ jobs, exchanging their bodies for money, must be filled with exploitation and pain. However, this impression may be based on prejudice against this group. Films often portray sex workers as victims, reinforcing their reality of oppression. However, Baker abandons this moralizing, not trying to beautify or sympathize, but simply recording the protagonists’ work to earn a living.
A single narrative of suffering doesn’t appear in Baker’s works because he understands that presenting these people’s complete lives and worlds, rather than just showing their suffering, will prevent viewers’ feelings from simply falling into pity.
Through accurate capture of characters’ subjective words and actions, filming the characters’ multiple identities in the real world and the resulting conflicts in a documentary-like way, his characters gain agency.
In Starlet, Jane, who dreams of becoming a star, comes to California. To make a living, she enters the sexually exploitative porn industry. The film doesn’t hide the physical abuse of women during the filming of pornographic films, but the shooting angle doesn’t make viewers feel like they are peeping, but simply allows them to feel the discomfort and absurdity simultaneously.
When viewers have already cultivated feelings of pity, this process ends quickly. We see Jane switch out of her performance state extremely professionally, bidding farewell to the crew with a decent smile. This plot is surprising, but convincing.
The film Starlet focuses on the story of Jane and an octogenarian. (Image: Starlet)
In Anora, many people find the film’s initial presentation of Anora’s large number of naked body shots uncomfortable, but this is her daily life. The body is the capital that a confident sex worker like Anora is proud of, and the film’s camera is almost always fixed when presenting this scene. While the camera is moving, it also constantly guides the audience to pay attention to Anora’s actions and feelings. These all give the character agency and try to create an atmosphere in which the audience can fully empathize with her vanity, fear, desire, anger, and final moment of shattering.
Baker’s most highly rated work is The Florida Project. But even with this film, some viewers may not initially feel much sympathy for Moonee, the little girl who spits and curses.
However, as the various events unfold in detail, the time viewers spend with Moonee weaving her “paradise” dreams accumulates, and they are likely to change their minds about her, or gain a deeper understanding. And Hailey, the mother who seems ungrateful and heartless at first glance, also makes intermittent efforts, and her vigorous vitality is also backed by loveliness and sincerity.
A story of a mother and daughter in the slums. (Image: The Florida Project)
The most extreme case is probably Red Rocket, where Baker focuses on Mikey, a middle-aged man who is seen as a typical “American redneck.” He’s a complete scumbag, someone we wouldn’t bother to see or understand in our daily lives. In the first half of the film, I almost watched with a frown.
The story takes place in Texas, a conservative state in the United States. Mikey, an aging and fading porn actor, returns from Hollywood in disgrace, trying to make a comeback. Seeing this, you can imagine that “make America great again” might be his catchphrase. He has a thick-skinned and almost foolish naivety, while on the other hand, he has the nature of a vampire. He is skilled at mastering the rhetoric of stealing concepts and boasting in order to capture the kindness and curiosity of others, and then use them, making others scapegoats when things go wrong.
A porn actor dreams of making a comeback. (Image: Red Rocket)
After his ex-wife’s family is no longer of any use, he focuses on Strawberry, a young girl, trying to lure her into starring in an adult film in the name of love, while profiting from it as her agent. What is commendable is that we see that Mikey is not without moments of being infected by Strawberry’s true nature outside of his calculations, and Strawberry herself is not a pure and delicious prey. As a teenage girl, she longs to break away from her boring family and boring love, and she has her own imagination for the future.
Fortunately, Mikey’s dirty plan didn’t come true in the end. But as the story draws to a close, facing such a rotten person, I still feel sad for his enthusiasm for life, for his actions for his unrealistic dreams, and for ending up empty-handed. This strange feeling is very challenging. It throws the audience into a morally ambiguous zone, forcing them to rethink that perhaps there is a wide range of possibilities between all right and wrong, between perpetrators and victims.
Sean Baker’s films consistently offer a rare, level perspective, avoiding both forced sympathy and sensationalism. He shows us that in the marginalized, rusty corners of society, there are people living with remarkable resilience.
The reason why the characters in the film can stand their ground is also inseparable from the creator’s field research foundation and the working mode of thoroughly understanding a block. Baker almost takes care of the script, editing, and directing himself. His biggest appeal is to present the characters as realistically as possible. This in turn tests us: Can we see and are we willing to understand the protagonists’ situations?
Sean Baker’s Dreamlike Moments
Some categorize Baker’s films as romantic realism, largely because his realistic films always have a dreamlike, tender ending.
However, this is not the same as a happy ending.
In The Florida Project, when Moonee, the little girl who is about to be taken away by social workers, cries heartbrokenly as she says goodbye to her best friend, the little girl who doesn’t know how to comfort her friend takes Moonee’s hand and rushes all the way to the Disney World they have long dreamed of entering. But we all know that in reality, the gates of Disney are not open to everyone.
This is the first time Moonee cries in the film, and the film is also coming to an end at this time. (Image: The Florida Project)
At the end of Anora, the heroine is kicked out of the lives of the wealthy family without batting an eye, and Igor, the temporary worker who restrains her, drives her home in his broken car. At the moment of farewell, he hands Anora the diamond ring left behind by the rich man, telling her: You can sell it for money.
Anora is stunned and subconsciously wants to repay Igor with her body. But Igor actually refuses this sexual gift. He just wants a hug and a kiss. Compared to sex, hugs and kisses are more of a signal of emotional exchange. This is a meaningful moment. Anora suddenly hysterically rejects the kiss and begins to break down and cry.
On the surface, this looks like a story of a prostitute who falls to pieces and is finally saved by the love of a sincere man, which is why many people judge this to be a story of rescuing a prostitute. But this ending actually has a richer meaning.
Anora’s crying is not simply a matter of being moved. The more fundamental reason is that Igor’s behavior breaks her long-held value of exchanging her body for rewards. An equal concern means that she is ultimately reduced to being an ordinary person like Igor. This is the final moment of her dream shattering, but at the same time, this crying also means some kind of character awakening - that sincere emotions between people, whether love or otherwise, may be the most precious and most resistant thing she has as a proletarian.
Anora’s crying has complex meanings. (Image: Anora)
The emergence of emotional logic means that they are no longer playing the game of power and capital operation exchange - the film has also revealed to us before that the seemingly boundless and infinitely wealthy oligarch family is emotionally empty and defeated.
Baker’s ending may not be a happy ending (because it is difficult for the protagonist to escape from the predicament), but more like a beginning, a meaningful beginning rooted in the connection between people.
Compared to those films that criticize social reality from God’s perspective and play the protagonists in the palm of their hands, I prefer Baker to experience helplessness with the protagonists and then plant a little bit of possibility. At the moment, we will find the importance of rebuilding trust between people.
Looking back at the 97th Academy Awards, it took place in an awkward period, with the world still recovering from an absurd quarrel in the White House. And before that, the US election had just ended, and Trump and tech oligarch Musk were stirring up the United States and even the world with super-high efficiency. Reality is already more dramatic than movies. Does anyone still care who wins the Little Golden Man?
The traditional narrative of male dominance in the film industry for a hundred years has disintegrated, and films guided by progressive values always lose the realistic tension of the story in their focus on issues. People are becoming more and more tired of movies. How can we bring people back to the big screen?
This year’s biggest winner at the Oscars, Baker and his Anora, seem to represent a certain direction for the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, and it was also the choice of the Palme d’Or at Cannes last summer. These two major film awards seem to be affirming Baker and his approach to film.
In the creation of Anora, Baker still used field research-like rigor to thoroughly understand the people in the neighborhood and paid attention to marginalized people with rare empathy. At the same time, this is also the first time he has returned to genre films (neurotic comedy), using the narrative of Hollywood classicism (the beginning, development, and turning point of the three-act play) to ensure the film’s watchability.
Since he began making films more than 20 years ago, Baker has insisted on making ultra-low-budget independent films. Back then, his famous work Tangerine used mobile phones to shoot in order to reduce costs and achieve the effect of street recording, and the cost was less than 120,000 US dollars. Even after becoming an auteur director, he still insists on not using big stars and maintaining low-cost production.
The highly successful The Florida Project only cost 2 million US dollars, and Anora also used non-Hollywood familiar faces, with a cost of only 6 million US dollars. Compared to the filming costs of Hollywood movies that cost tens of millions or billions, Baker is simply the proletariat of the American film production industry.
At the Oscars, a feast of stars and wealthy families, Baker used such a low cost to leverage such high-weight awards, which in itself is also a highly ironic black humor.