Somewhere in this big planet, March 15th, 2025
To Sean Baker, award-winning director of Anora and a handful of big movies:
I don't like having to write this. I know that, at this time, an accusation of plagiarism from writer Emily D. Warfield is making a lot of noise around you, and more so after winning five Oscars with your last movie, which is the center of the accusation of plagiarism. But I apologize dear Sean, one has to assume the responsibility for his actions. You can't keep quiet. In the name of art and, specifically, in the name of the seventh art, you should speak about this. A seventh art that doesn't know borders nor limits and, even so, you decided to use it to sell it as a love letter to a minority group.
Indie film hasn't won. Indie film, like the most snobbish sector of this valuable art keeps PRETENTIOUSLY calling it, wishing to belong to a community full of mustaches, piercings, weird haircuts and long socks with shorts, doesn't exist as such. And if it does, it was actually created by a Latvian man sitting in his solitary apartment for many nights, thinking he wasn't doing anything and, paradoxically, was doing everything to bring to life a beautiful, animated movie that did cause a paradigm shift. You didn't defeat big production companies; you sold a stolen idea to Universal Pictures for its distribution and to Neon for its production.

Indie film claims a historical victory for achieving what your Anora didn't seem capable of doing, but this movie ends up being your latest excuse to talk about the "reality" of sex workers. Really? Is that the distorted representation of this "reality"? Do you like to underestimate the audience's intelligence? Who can possibly connect with a young lady who has ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING to leave the world she belongs to and apparently hates, but who rather be naive, even when we see her as someone extremely intelligent on screen? Don't try to dig for depth where there is none, dear Baker. You aren't some kind of visionary; you wanted to change things, but you are well aware that no one is going to be talking about Anora five years from now.
If I was able to find a certain calm in your tangled work, it was thanks to Igor, played by Yura Borisov, one of the less hysterical and more realistic characters of your "A24 Cinderella." An average, quiet guy, who knows what he must do and does so with extreme warmth—even though, in theory, he's a Russian thug—leaving a pleasant aftertaste. You're asking about the others? They are just a handful of figures that seem to be created by the Safdie brothers after taking all kinds of drugs and that spin around nonstop to find a spoiled brat. Was this the point of your "representation" of minorities? Seeing Mikey Madison—stealing Demi Moore's Oscar in an ironic scene at the awards that seemed out of The Substance—shamelessly naked from several angles, shouting wildly and chasing a husband who runs away hours after marrying her?

What happened to the Sean Baker that connected with the audience? Tell me because, from the moment I was able to watch your work, I have been totally altered and will probably feel this way until you release something much more… decent, to say it a certain way. Where's the empathy? Where did you leave the real taste of disappointment, of the bitterness felt by knowing we will no longer get what we long for the most? If everything leads to the last seconds in which Anora uncontrollably cries after having sex with the bold, quiet "thug," we are in big trouble, my dear "independent" filmmaker. It isn't about the destination, but about the journey.
If we discuss the protagonist's journey in particular, then I have several things to say about her. Firstly, who is Annie? You already know it, but I don't want to waste the opportunity for others to understand and feel the discontent over not knowing who this girl really is. Annie is a young North American with dreams, there's no doubt in that. We specifically don't know what her dream is, but it's clear she wants to have plenty of money and do nothing with her life. We stand before a poor, empty critique regarding superficiality in these times. From this starting point, it's quite complicated to establish a connection with her, sure, unless you're an adult solely aspiring to have money and live doing nothing. She resides with a girl apparently her age in a simple house in a suburban neighborhood next to the rail tracks, so we can gather she's not adrift. She isn't the homeless Nomi from Showgirls or the self-destructive Joe from Nymphomaniac: Vol. 1; she has the power to decide. She could be working in a kiosk or a clothing store. But she decides to be a sex worker. There's no pressure, no death threats, nothing dark lurking around. She does so because she wants to.

Annie works in one of those dive bars where married men escape from their routine to satisfy their erotic fantasies and seems pretty happy about it. Or, at least, that's what it can be seen. There's only one scene directed by you in which Annie returns home the next morning with headphones, a beanie and a certain "I'm tired" vibe, but that's it. She has the luxury of telling her boss she's quitting to live the millionaire life she longed for after meeting the nepo baby Vanya, and life is apparently smiling at her. So, what's my problem with Anora then, dear Sean? From the very first minute, I never once believed your story. I didn't believe your naivety to think Annie is someone who one can relate to but, most importantly, I never understood the story. It isn't that I just didn't feel it, I didn’t understand it either. I didn't understand the purpose, the message, nothing. Call me skeptical, ignorant. But being on the other side of the screen, you either connect or not. The act of creating art requires a two-way exchange, a dynamic that can be unexpected. I could have remained silent regarding the matter, avoiding raising my voice, but I see many snobs praising your work. And you know what? I hate snobbism. I consider it a sickness, an extremely contagious disease.
I hate the fact that, because your movie addresses a certain minority, we must put it on a pedestal. I could have loved your story, but no. Furthermore, I see myself as someone who, up until this moment, believed in the power of stories. But something different happened to me with Anora. I apologize, I know this will probably never reach your hands—or eyes actually—but I needed to vent my feelings about it.
Posted on MARCH 15, 2025, 11:50 AM | UTC-GMT -3
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