Romance in film has always been shaped by fantasy. The right person appears, social barriers fall away, and love seems powerful enough to solve almost anything. Anora, directed by Sean Baker, takes that familiar fantasy and turns it into something far more uncomfortable. Its central relationship is exciting, impulsive and glamorous, but it is also shaped by money, status and unequal power. Instead of presenting romance as an escape from reality, the film asks what happens when love is inseparable from the economic world around it.
This is part of a wider trend in contemporary cinema. Films such as Zola, Red Rocket, The Florida Project and Pleasure focus on characters whose relationships are influenced by financial insecurity, ambition and social status. Romance may still be present, but it rarely exists in isolation. Money determines where people live, what choices are available to them, and even how seriously their feelings are taken. These films replace the traditional romantic fantasy with something more unstable, where attraction and affection constantly collide with material reality.
When Intimacy Becomes a Product
The same question is becoming increasingly relevant outside cinema. Even the growing idea of the ai girlfriend, a digital companion designed to offer attention, affection and emotional connection, shows how intimacy can become connected to products and services. When companionship can be purchased through a subscription, the boundary between genuine emotional experience and transaction becomes harder to define. Anora explores a similar tension in human relationships. It does not suggest that feelings become automatically false when money is involved. Instead, it asks whether people can ever fully separate emotion from the systems of wealth and power surrounding them.
Romance as a Transaction
At the centre of Anora is a relationship that initially looks like a modern Cinderella story. Ani meets Ivan, the wealthy son of a Russian oligarch, and is suddenly introduced to a world of luxury, parties and financial freedom. Their relationship moves quickly, creating the possibility that Ani might escape the limitations of her everyday life.
However, the fantasy depends on a major imbalance. Ivan has access to wealth that allows him to treat life as temporary entertainment. Ani does not have the same freedom. What may feel like a spontaneous adventure to him carries much greater consequences for her.
This difference gives the romance its tension. Money does not simply sit in the background. It shapes how each character understands the relationship. Ivan can spend without thinking about the future, while Ani has more at stake. Their emotional connection exists, but it develops inside a structure where one person has far more social and financial power than the other.
The Modern Cinderella Story
Films have often connected romance with social mobility. Pretty Woman, for example, turns a relationship between a wealthy businessman and a working-class woman into a glamorous romantic fantasy. Wealth becomes part of the attraction, but it ultimately supports the idea that love can overcome class differences.
Anora is much more suspicious of this idea. The luxury surrounding Ani is seductive, but it is never completely hers. Expensive clothes, large houses and private experiences create the appearance of transformation without necessarily giving her real security.
This makes the film an anti-fairytale. Ani appears to enter another social class, but her position remains dependent on the people who already control that world. The film exposes how fragile upward mobility can be when it depends on romantic attachment rather than independent power.
Who Gets to Control the Story?
Class also determines whose version of a relationship is treated as legitimate. When wealthy families, employees and institutions become involved, personal feelings can quickly become secondary to reputation and control.
This is where Anora becomes particularly interested in power. Ani may be emotionally invested in what has happened, but she is surrounded by people with greater resources and authority. They can influence what happens next in ways she cannot.
Similar dynamics appear in films such as Zola and Red Rocket, where charismatic characters move through relationships that mix affection, opportunity and exploitation. These films rarely divide people neatly into villains and victims. Instead, they show how individuals make choices inside systems where some people have considerably more freedom than others.
Love Without the Fairytale
What makes films like Anora compelling is that they do not necessarily argue that romance is fake. Their point is more complicated. Feelings can be sincere while still being affected by money, class and power.
That tension reflects a broader anxiety about modern relationships. Dating apps, social media, luxury lifestyles and even artificial companions increasingly turn intimacy into something that can be displayed, measured or purchased. Contemporary romance exists alongside an enormous commercial system built around the desire to connect with other people.
Anora takes the familiar fantasy of falling in love with someone who can change your life and asks what that fantasy costs. Instead of promising that romance can erase inequality, it shows how inequality follows people into their most personal relationships. Love may feel priceless, but in films like Anora, someone is often paying for the fantasy.
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