Sex workers have always been Hollywood’s favorite storytelling device—whether it’s the tragic escort with a heart of gold (Pretty Woman), the doomed stripper (Hustlers), or the gritty, “realistic” portrayal that somehow still manages to get everything wrong.
Enter Anora, Sean Baker’s Oscar-winning film about a Brooklyn stripper who gets swept into a whirlwind marriage with a Russian oligarch’s son, setting off a high-stakes drama that critics are calling authentic and groundbreaking.
But is Anora really the most accurate depiction of sex work we’ve seen in mainstream cinema? Or is Hollywood once again telling the story it thinks audiences want to hear, rather than one that truly reflects the industry?
Anora Does Some Things Right—But It’s Not That Revolutionary
Let’s start with what Anora actually gets right. For once, we have a stripper on screen who isn’t a tragic, helpless victim in desperate need of saving. Ani, played by Mikey Madison, is hustling because she wants to be, not because she’s being forced into it. She enjoys the money, the independence, the lifestyle—and that’s a refreshing change from the usual Hollywood doom-and-gloom take on sex work.
The strip club scenes are also well-executed. No Magic Mike fantasy nonsense—just the reality of club politics, financial ups and downs, and the unspoken rules that dancers live by. The film doesn’t shy away from the way men in these spaces behave, and that alone puts it a step above most of its predecessors.
And then there’s the best part—it avoids the classic knight in shining armor trope. Ani’s clients aren’t swooping in to “rescue” her, and the film makes it clear that in the world of sex work, the biggest dangers often come from the men around you, not the job itself.
So far, so good. But here’s where Anora stumbles.
The Film Barely Scratches the Surface of What Sex Work Actually Is
For a film that’s being praised for its realism, Anora is oddly uninterested in actually exploring what sex work looks like beyond the strip club. Sure, we see Ani on stage, strutting her stuff—but where’s the insight into how dancers really hustle their clients? Where’s the emphasis on selling the fantasy, on emotional labour, on the endless strategies that go into making real money?
Because make no mistake—stripping is not just about being hot and taking your clothes off. It’s about knowing how to work a room, how to read men, and how to keep them coming back for more. That side of things? Completely missing from Anora’s narrative.
We reached out to Blue Monday and spoke to Natasha, one of their high-class London escorts who’s seen firsthand how films never quite get it right.
“People think sex work is just about looking pretty. It’s really not. A lot of what we do is about 90% psychology. You have to know what men want before they do. Like strippers, high-class companions have to play the long game and make them fall head over heels for you. That’s the real skill, and movies never show that side of things.”
And that’s exactly the problem with Anora—it gives audiences just enough of a taste of sex work to feel edgy, without actually diving into what the industry really looks like.
The “Rich Client Fantasy” Is More Male Gaze Than Reality
Hollywood loves this storyline. Sex worker meets rich clients. A rich client falls for a sex worker. Drama ensues.
Sound familiar? That’s because we’ve seen it before—in Pretty Woman, Moulin Rouge, Dangerous Beauty, and even in The Girlfriend Experience.
Now, don’t get me wrong—yes, sex workers sometimes have clients who throw absurd amounts of money at them. But the idea that some billionaire’s son is going to get so obsessed that he marries a stripper in Vegas? That’s not realism. That’s wishful thinking.
The truth? Most sex workers don’t want to marry their clients, and most clients know better than to expect anything beyond the fantasy they’re paying for. The Anora-style whirlwind romance makes for great cinema—but it’s not how things usually play out.
We spoke to Layla, a former New York stripper, to get her take on this trope.
“I’ve had guys try to play the ‘I’ll look after you’ card, but 9 times out of 10, they’re just feeding into their own ego. They don’t want to marry you and care for you and all that s**t – they just want to feel special. The second you stop giving them attention, they move on to the next girl.”
Other Films Have Done a Better Job—They Just Didn’t Win Oscars
For all the praise being heaped onto Anora, let’s not pretend it’s the first movie to attempt an accurate portrayal of sex work.
Tangerine (2015), another film by Sean Baker, arguably did a better job. Instead of telling a male-gaze version of sex work, it followed two transgender sex workers trying to navigate life in Los Angeles—with real sex workers cast in the lead roles.
Then there’s The Stroll (2023), a documentary that goes beyond the surface, telling the stories of transgender sex workers in New York in their own words. No savior complexes, no Hollywood gloss—just real experiences.
Even Secret Diary of a Call Girl (2007) managed to offer a more balanced take, showing that sex work can be empowering, profitable, and even enjoyable—without turning it into some tragic cautionary tale.
So, why is Anora being hailed as the definitive portrayal of sex work? Simple: It’s an Oscar-winning, mainstream movie, which means it’s the first exposure a lot of people will have to these kinds of stories.
But does that mean it’s the best depiction? Not by a long shot.
Hollywood Still Has a Long Way to Go
Let’s be real—Hollywood has never truly nailed sex work.
Films either turn it into a sob story (Requiem for a Dream), a fairytale (Pretty Woman), or a gritty crime thriller (Hustlers). And even when movies do try to be accurate, they often end up focusing more on what audiences expect rather than what sex work actually is.
Anora may be a step in the right direction, but it’s still just that—a step. If filmmakers really want to do justice to these stories, they need to stop romanticizing, stop simplifying, and start actually listening to sex workers.
