What insights about the nature and experience of art did Sean Baker's movie Anora offer me?

​

Anora is a movie that explores the life of a young sex worker who forms an unconventional relationship with a wealthy client in his early twenties, culminating in an unexpected wedding. The narrative unfolds around this marriage and the family's reaction to it. While I can recognize the film’s potential to be impactful and thought-provoking, I ultimately found it unsatisfying. This is because it raises important questions about the "Object of Possession" phenomenon as it failed to immerse me in the "Object of Possession" state of mind.

 

The realisator introduces us the world of strip clubs through Anora’s experience from a personal perspective. The personal perspective serves to the ultimate goal of the movie: the humanization of sex workers through the lenses of this plot full of twists and turns. I haven’t managed to immerse myself in the fictional world of the movie as I was reluctant to the idea that the success of this movie might be nourished by the fascination of the spectator to the sensuality of the principal character coupled with the showcase of extreme wealth. By this, I felt like the way things were introduced seemed unnecessary, almost artificial to the benefit of the movie. When I was watching the movie, I felt almost tense to the idea of letting myself go with such plot even though I could acknowledge a real potential in its originality, the pictural aesthetic, or the actress’ performance. It felt like I didn’t accept to let it go, to accept to be engaged with this encounter: the encounter between the producer through the materialization of the object of art he created and the spectator, myself. Because of this position, the final scene – the movie culminating point – didn’t move me, didn’t transpose me because I wasn’t deeply engaged in the movie’s narrative. I could see the potential to tear me into tears but I wasn’t moved, I could only acknowledge the beauty of the scene for a cold outsider point of view. 

​

This essay is not directly about Anora itself. Rather, it explores how this particular experience of art can serve as a case study for understanding the experience of art as a whole. My encounter with Anora revealed that, because I was not engaged with the plot narrative as I felt multiple forms of reluctance (highlighted in italics in the paragraph above) to embrace the fictional universe of the movie, I was unable to appreciate it in the same way it was celebrated at the Cannes Film Festival. This highlights the importance of accepting and therefore engaging with the fictional universe of a work of art in order to be moved by it and appreciate it fully. My experience with Anora suggests an additional condition for the object of possession phenomenon: a form of open-mindedness that allows the artwork to transport us. I would describe it as emotive openness, a state of receptivity essential for engaging with the artwork. This openness, both before and during the discovery of a piece of art, is influenced by our perceptions—shaped internally by factors such as positive reviews or admiration for the artist, and externally by the artist's ability to convey a compelling message through impactful techniques or elements that resonate with the viewer.

​

Emotive openness does not stand as a static state; it evolves through the experience of art itself. The artist plays an active role in shaping the spectator’s position during the discovery process by crafting an experience that penetrates the spectator’s interiority and conveys a powerful message. For instance, when a piece of art moves us, it is often the result of the carefully constructed artistic experience. The artist does not instruct the spectator to cry but instead leads them organically to that emotional response through engagement with the work. This emotional journey depends on the spectator’s willingness to embrace the process during the discovery of the piece. In the case of Anora, I struggled to accept the tools employed to convey its powerful message and evoke emotion. Instead, I perceived these tools as artificial, which led me to reject the experience. This rejection ultimately prevented me from being moved by the film or appreciating it as a work worthy of celebration, such as winning the Palme d’Or. Thus, the appreciation of a piece of art requires accepting it as such—a notion that may seem paradoxical when defining an object as art. This acceptance depends not only on the tools used by the artist to tell their story but also on the spectator’s internal state of mind, which is a necessary condition for the emotional impact of art on the self.

​

Accepting the narrative and tools employed by an artist to move us can feel artificial when taken at face value. It almost seems awkward to describe an emotional response to an artwork in such terms: “Because I have accepted the tools and tricks used by the artist, I have accepted to let it go.” Instead, emotive openness should be understood as a dynamic relationship between the spectator and the artwork, unfolding within the temporal and spatial boundaries of the art experience. When encountering an artwork in a museum, for instance, there is often an interplay of acceptance and rejection. This process involves an effort to grasp the essence of the piece—its aesthetic qualities, sensory impact, and the encoded message the artist seeks to convey—leading to its valuation as an artwork. Even when a work is celebrated as a masterpiece, the viewer retains the right to not appreciate it as such. At times, this good faith engagement can go too far, particularly within the sanctified environment of the museum. For example, one might mistake a random chair for an intentional artwork, drawn into a deeper observation of its form and meaning, only to discover it is simply a mundane object in a room. Such moments, though unintended, highlight the spectator’s heightened state of receptivity and their willingness to explore the boundaries of art and meaning. 

​

Returning to the "Mental as a House" metaphor, one might consider how emotive openness acts as an open doorway, inviting transformative encounters that manifest as art experiences. These encounters reshape the self, expanding the thresholds of perception and understanding, and allowing art to fulfill its highest purpose: to transform and elevate the human experience.

​

I am a little figure in the house, walking from a room to another, as the flow of thought passing by. I am entering this new room, one that I have never seen. My relationship to space, movement, and light is different from my daily encounters, forcing me to change my behavior. In this room, I accept the fact that the couches are on the floor, the chairs are suspended, and the tables are replaced by pools of water. Because I accept the newly defined rules of the space, I lay down to rest, I swing to sit down, and I dip my fingers into the water to feel its cool ripples. The act of being in this space leads to the act of being to the space—I accept the physical and visual aspect of the space, and my movement through it is shifted, leading to a new experience. The act of sitting becomes similar to the act of flying; the act of resting is more rooted to the floor, and the act of touching the water is like connecting to the very pulse of the room. I emotionally feel the space differently, nourishing a new kind of exploration. The set of thoughts and feelings are altered by the rules created in this space. Because I acted with an emotive openness, I let myself go and appreciated the newly offered perspective to this universe. Because I acted in good faith, I was transported by this newly defined experience that shifted my relationship to the outside world and, therefore, the inner world.