Unless you’ve been sleeping under a rock over the last week or so, you may have heard about Sean Baker’s Anora taking Hollywood by storm. On March 2nd, the film secured the Best Picture win at the Oscars, setting social media ablaze with debates about its supposedly accurate depiction of sex work.
So, the question is: Does Anora actually get sex work right?
All cinephiles know that when mainstream films tackle sex work, they usually fumble the ball. Either they romanticise it (looking at you, Pretty Woman), turn it into a cautionary tale (Hustlers), or strip it of all realism (Fifty Shades of Grey is technically BDSM, but the same problem).
So, where does Anora stand? Has a popular film finally managed to portray sex work with honesty, or is it just another movie that gets everything wrong? We reached out to several real sex workers to hear their thoughts on the matter…
The Premise of Anora
If you haven’t seen it yet, Anora follows Ani, a Brooklyn-based stripper who gets caught up in a whirlwind romance with the son of a powerful Russian oligarch. They impulsively marry in Las Vegas, triggering a chaotic fallout as his parents try to rip them apart.
It’s a story that juggles romance, sex work, class conflict, and family drama—wrapped up in Baker’s signature gritty, documentary-style cinematography. And with Mikey Madison delivering a powerhouse performance as Ani, it’s easy to see why critics are raving about it.
But while the film nails certain aspects of stripping—the club dynamics, the camaraderie, the financial highs and lows—it’s still not an accurate reflection of real-world sex work.
What Anora Gets Right About Sex Work
Let’s give credit where it’s due. Anora does some things better than most films featuring sex workers.
Firstly, Ani isn’t a victim. She’s not a tragic figure forced into stripping. She does it because it makes her good money, she enjoys the hustle, and she’s got her own agency.
Secondly, the strip club scenes feel real. There’s no Magic Mike-style fantasyland. The club politics, the way strippers work together, and the financial unpredictability are all pretty spot on.
And lastly, the men aren’t “saviours.” Too often, sex work narratives revolve around a “good guy” rescuing the woman from her “bad life.” Anora avoids that, because most of the time, the biggest threats to sex workers aren’t themselves, but the men around them.
What Anora Gets Wrong About Sex Work
But now we get to the real issue. If you ask actual sex workers about this film, a lot of them aren’t impressed.
Because despite Anora avoiding the worst Hollywood clichés, it still falls into some of the same tired pitfalls.
1. It Only Scratches the Surface of Sex Work
The film spends a lot of time on Ani’s chaotic relationship, but barely explores what it actually means to be a sex worker beyond the strip club.
Where’s the insight into how dancers really hustle their regulars? How stripping is about selling a fantasy more than just dancing? How much work actually goes into it beyond the pole?
One of the biggest frustrations sex workers have with media portrayals is that it rarely captures the skill, emotional labour, and strategy that goes into the job. Anora shows bits and pieces, but it never fully dives into that reality.
We spoke to Ava, a New York-based stripper who’s worked in high-end clubs for over five years, and she put it bluntly:
“People think stripping is just showing up, taking your clothes off, and walking away with a wad of cash. But it’s sales. It’s psychology. You’re reading men, figuring out what they like, and adjusting your whole persona to keep them hooked. Being the best dancer takes more than just working a pole.”
By not delving deeper into these aspects, Anora misses an opportunity to present a more complete, more authentic depiction of sex work.
2. It Still Paints Sex Work as “Temporary” and “Unstable”
Here’s a trope we’ve seen before—the sex worker as a lost girl, just waiting for something to shake up her life.
Ani’s story is less about her profession and more about how her marriage to a rich kid throws her into chaos. It reinforces the idea that stripping (and by extension, sex work) is just a phase, rather than a valid long-term career.
But here’s the truth: Many sex workers choose this life because it’s lucrative, flexible, and empowering. Not because they’re waiting for an escape route.
We reached out to London Deluxe, a provider of London escorts, to get their take. Tatiana, one of their top companions, had this to say:
“A lot of people think women in sex work are just biding their time until something ‘better’ comes along. That’s not how it works. Some of us make more money than people in corporate jobs. We travel, we network, we build our own businesses. But films never show that. Instead, it’s always about the instability, the danger, the need to ‘get out.'”
3. The “Rich Client” Fantasy Is a Stretch
It’s another Hollywood obsession we’ve seen before: the sex worker who lands a wealthy client and gets swept up in a world of money, danger, and high-stakes drama.
Yes, Ani’s situation in Anora makes for an exciting plot. But in reality?
- Most sex workers don’t end up marrying their clients.
- The rich client sweeps you off your feet trope is more of a male fantasy than an actual sex worker reality.
- Relationships between clients and sex workers are usually transactional—built on mutual understanding, not whirlwind romance.
We reached out to Layla, another New York stripper, to get her take on this Hollywood-fueled fantasy.
“I’ve had clients who’ve tried to ask me out a few times, but at the end of the day, they’re paying for my time—not me as a person. The idea that some billionaire is going to throw his fortune at a stripper and run away with her? It’s ridiculous. If a guy’s rich enough to spend like that, he’s also smart enough to know that money keeps things transactional.”
Would Ani’s story happen in real life? Maybe. But it’s about as likely as a Hollywood intern randomly marrying a billionaire’s son in Vegas.
So, Does Anora Get Sex Work Right?
Not really.
Is it better than Pretty Woman or Hustlers? Sure. But is it the groundbreaking, realistic portrayal of sex work that people are making it out to be? Unfortunately not.
It’s still written for mainstream audiences, not sex workers. And it still reinforces the idea that sex work is a dangerous, temporary, and unstable world—instead of just being a job.
Sex workers deserve better representation. Maybe one day, Hollywood will get it right. But for now? Anora is just another film that thinks it understands sex work—without actually listening to the people who live it.
