Anora provides a great opportunity to reflect on our relationship with films. Here’s the thing: while watching Anora, I didn’t feel much emotionally or sensorially. The act of viewing wasn’t particularly impactful for me. However, looking back after the film ended, its message, intent, structure, and conclusion made sense. Although I didn’t enjoy the journey, I appreciated what the film aimed to achieve. So, it’s a movie I didn’t like, but I found its perspective innovative. How, then, do I position this film for myself?
To start with, the opening of the film, styled like the aesthetics of Euphoria with neon colors, felt like a carnival experience that didn’t resonate with me. Later, when it shifted into a road-movie mode, the whimsical tone it tried to capture didn’t appeal to me. The loud, chaotic, and disordered scenes felt unpolished in my opinion. My relationship with the characters was more rooted in reaction and dislike than empathy or sympathy. As a result, I found myself hoping for negative outcomes for them rather than wishing good things to happen.
Looking back after the film, however, I acknowledge that its message holds merit. Its cheeky critique of fairy tales and romantic comedies, paired with its salute to the raw, hard truths of life, is commendable. The observations it offers about genuine intimacy between two people are also insightful. In this regard, it’s a well-rounded film. But unfortunately, it’s unlikely to make it onto my list of the best films I’ve seen this past year.