Anora, at its core, is an engaging and well-crafted film, but its underlying themes expose a larger societal trend—one that continues to romanticize and reward the portrayal of women selling their bodies. In a landscape where patriarchal structures persist and masculinity finds renewed vigor in traditionalist circles, the film’s thematic choices feel particularly relevant.
A Slavic World That Remains Patriarchal
The film feels distinctly Slavic, not only in its aesthetics but in its core identity. The four main protagonists are either Russian, Armenian, or of Russian descent, and the dialogue fluidly transitions between English and Russian. This is not just a stylistic choice but a pointed reflection of the patriarchal structures that still dominate the Slavic world in 2025.
Anora follows Ani, an exotic dancer and escort, who gets swept into the opulent world of a Russian oligarch’s son. Despite his immense privilege, the son comes across as both mentally and physically childlike, incapable of independent thought or action outside of his family’s influence. Ani, who already struggles with her Slavic heritage, finds herself caught between his naïve earnestness and the oppressive expectations of his world. What makes this dynamic compelling is that while Ani can navigate choices and resist to some degree, her Russian counterpart has no such luxury—he is trapped in his family’s web with no path to disobedience. This sharp contrast underscores the rigidity of patriarchal norms that dictate their fates.
The Orthodox Resurgence and a Shift in Masculinity
The film arrives at a time when young men are flocking to Orthodox Christianity in large numbers, seeking a more “masculine” form of faith. A survey found that Orthodox parishes saw a 78% increase in converts in 2022 compared to pre-pandemic levels in 2019. Father Josiah Trenham of Saint Andrew’s Orthodox Church in Riverside, California, has observed a massive uptick in male converts over the past four to five years. His church, like many others, has seen men turning to Orthodoxy as a reaction to what they perceive as the feminization of mainstream Christianity.
This cultural shift matters in the context of Anora because it reinforces the film’s depiction of traditional power structures. Ani’s story does not exist in a vacuum—it is part of a broader conversation about gender roles, control, and societal expectations. In a world where men are retreating to orthodoxy in search of rigid gender norms, Ani’s role as a woman who sells her body for survival fits neatly into the same age-old narrative.
Hollywood’s Favorite Female Archetype
Anora winning Best Actress is hardly surprising when considering Hollywood’s long fascination with the oldest profession as a means of elevating female performances. Historically, actresses have won Oscars for portraying escorts or promiscuous marginalized women. The list is extensive: Janet Gaynor in Street Angel, Helen Hayes in The Sin of Madelon Claudet, Donna Reed in From Here to Eternity, and Elizabeth Taylor in Butterfield 8, among many others.
Jeanine Basinger, author of A Woman’s View: How Hollywood Spoke to Women, 1930-1960, once noted that “there are three classic parts for women to get nominated: nuns, pr*stitutes, or deaf women.” The binary nature of these roles—either pure and chaste or overtly sexual—speaks to the limited ways Hollywood has historically portrayed women. Anora’s success continues this tradition, reinforcing the idea that women’s struggles, particularly when tied to selling themselves, are the most Oscar-worthy.
The Award
Perhaps the most telling aspect of Anora’s recognition is the snub of Demi Moore for The Substance. Moore had already won several awards for her performance, yet the Academy, as it often does, overlooked horror as a legitimate genre for serious accolades. The Substance critiques the entertainment industry and the multi-billion-dollar obsession with eternal youth, using horror to make its point with flair and wit.
Anora, on the other hand, operates within more familiar Oscar territory—gritty realism, an escort with a heart, and a tragic yet oddly whimsical narrative structure. It’s a safe bet for an Academy that still clings to traditional tropes, even when its themes expose deep societal truths.
Should you go and see it?
Anora is not a bad film—far from it. But its success highlights the industry’s persistent fascination with narratives centered around women selling their bodies, often at the expense of other, equally compelling stories. Its backdrop of a deeply patriarchal Slavic world, coinciding with the rise of Orthodox masculinity, only makes its message more potent. At a time when gender dynamics are shifting and young men are seeking traditional roles with newfound fervor, Anora inadvertently captures the contradictions of our era—where women’s struggles are both glorified and commodified, and where old power structures continue to shape new realities.
