The Important Reason Anora Director Sean Baker Thanked Sex Workers At The Oscars

Sean Baker had a history-making night at the Oscars, winning Best Original Screenplay, Best Editing, Best Director, and Best Picture for "Anora," while star Mikey Madison took home the statue for Best Actress for her performance as Ani. As a result, Baker had four opportunities to speak to the world at large through his acceptance speeches, and he came prepared. He encouraged audiences to watch movies on the big screen since independent theaters need support now more than ever, at the same time promoting the importance of independent cinema and telling unique stories. He also, given the subject of "Anora," opened his night by thanking the sex work community.

"I want to thank the sex worker community. They have shared their stories. They have shared their life experience with me over the years. My deepest respect. Thank you — I share this with you," he said. Madison echoed the sentiment in her own acceptance speech, saying, "I also just want to again recognize and honor the sex worker community. I will continue to support and be an ally. All of the incredible people, the women that I've had the privilege of meeting from that community, has been one of the highlights of this entire incredible experience."

Throughout awards season, Baker and Madison have both unfailingly elevated the sex work community, an oft-attacked group of people who have consistently been sounding the alarm about impending systemic oppression and been ignored simply because society has an incredibly sordid relationship with the sex work industry. There was even a spike in Google searches for "sex work" on Oscar night. Clearly, the average viewer doesn't know this is an umbrella term for the industry of services that includes pornography, stripping, phone or cyber sex, and physical services obtained in specialized locations (be they brothels, massage parlors, escort services, or on the street).

Not that it's surprising Baker thanked sex workers in his acceptance speech. After all, he owes his entire career to stories centered around sex work, including, but not limited to, "Anora."

Sean Baker's first film, "Four Letter Words," was released in 2000, and it's an uncomfortably honest character study of the way post-adolescent men communicate when they're in the comfort of just each other. As his debut feature, it's clear that he hasn't fully found his footing as a storyteller, but some of his trademarks are already on display. There are moments of hyperspecific relatability as is customary in Baker's work, like friends having drunken discussions about life and culture in the kitchen during a party. One of the most charming conversations is centered around the Golden Age adult film star Shauna Grant, a name check that only someone who actually appreciates the artistry of vintage smut would understand. (I'm looking at you, fellow Vinegar Syndrome/Mélusine subscribers.)

His next two films, "Take Out" and "The Prince of Broadway," shift the focus to telling stories about immigrants who are working in the heart of "hustle" culture — a delivery worker at a Chinese take-out shop and a dupe seller, respectively. While these are not stories of sex workers, they are stories of men who work jobs in the gig economy, which is the same umbrella that many categories of sex work fall under. There are, of course, unique challenges, stigmas, and safety risks associated with sex work that simply aren't found in other types of gig work, but it's clear that Baker sees the parallels between these avenues for employment, including the ways that all forms of gig workers can be exploited by bad faith actors. But throughout his career, Baker's films have been united by an understanding that for a lot of people in these lines of work, sometimes it really is "just another day at the office."

Baker's first film to include a sex worker as a protagonist (and the film that first put him on my radar) was 2012's "Starlet," a beautiful story about the unlikely friendship between a young, working adult film star named Jane (Dree Hemingway) and a prickly, elderly woman named Sadie (Besedka Johnson in her first and only film role). Playing out like Hal Ashby by way of Éric Rohmer, "Starlet" has no problem displaying a porn set with the same casualness as any other film set, but is far more interested in Jane and Sadie's relationship and their misadventures throughout the San Fernando Valley.

As Baker told Filmmaker Magazine in 2021, the inspiration for the story came when he was casting adult film stars for a show he was working on for MTV. He then realized how many "everyday" people worked in the industry, a stark contrast from the lavish, glamorous lifestyle often portrayed through pop culture staples like The Playboy Mansion and the mid-2000s reality TV show appearances of folks like Jenna Jameson.

A consistent theme throughout Baker's films is the exploration of transactional relationships. It's something that many people associate only with interactions had with those working in the gig economy (including, but not limited to, sex workers), but "Starlet" shows that all of us engage in transactional relationships in our day to day life. "Starlet" is one of Baker's most lived-in films; it's a movie that's unafraid to allow the mundane moments of existence to take center stage and prioritizes the humanity of its characters, letting the performers have complete control of what's expressed on screen. Many have said that "Anora" only works as well as it does because of Mikey Madison's performance, and I agree with that, if only because I believe Baker to be one of the finest "actor's directors" currently working today. It's similarly impossible not to fall in love with Dree Hemingway, and I firmly believe her performance was the crux of why "Starlet" won the Robert Altman Award at the Independent Spirit Awards.

("Starlet" is also one of the all-time great dog movies. Rest in peace, Boonee.)

The film that arguably put Baker on the map was "Tangerine," a day-in-the-life film following two Black transgender sex workers on Christmas Eve all across Los Angeles. At the time of release, most of the attention on the film was due to Baker's achievement of shooting it on the iPhone 5S, but retrospective reviews have looked closely at the frankness the film takes in showcasing sex workers also living in poverty. The film stars Kitana Kiki Rodriguez and Mya Taylor in their debut performances. (Baker met them at the Los Angeles LGBT Center.) It's a stunning portrait of the lives of two women, both the simple pleasures and the less-than-pleasurable realities of existing. His work has gone on to inspire artists from the actual neighborhood, including the homeless photographer Bumdog Torres, whose photography of portraits "Tangerine Land" depicts the transgender community living in the area made famous by the film. "Tangerine" possesses a frenetic energy that's also on display in "Anora," and both films conclude not with the end of the characters' stories, but with the knowledge that this is just the beginning.

(If it's not there already, you should definitely add "Tangerine" to your watchlist of non-sentimental holiday movies.)

Baker's first mainstream hit, "The Florida Project," ended up on folks' radars thanks to the casting of Willem Dafoe, arguably the first recognizable performer ever cast in one of Baker's films. The heart of the movie is Moonee (Brooklynn Prince), a five-year-old girl living in one of the brightly painted, off-the-road motels just outside of Orlando, Florida. It's a story about the magic of childhood — one that exists for all children, even those who do not have financial comfort ... until the severity of their situation is made known to them for the first time. Moonee's mother Halley (Bria Vinaite) performs sex work out of the motel, which is a reality of their lives but not the central focus of the film. Nevertheless, Halley's participation in sex work and the way it is criminalized has a direct impact on the trajectory of where the mother-daughter duo wind up at the end of the film.

It's understandable why so many people are uncomfortable with the film's direction. While Baker has gone on record countless times about wanting to tell stories that destigmatize sex work, doing so requires the honest acknowledgement that our country — as a whole — treats sex workers who aren't rich and famous porn stars like the bottom of the barrel.

Baker's most recent two films tackle the sex work industry from two very different perspectives. 2021's "Red Rocket" features a career-best turn by Simon Rex as Mikey, a former porn star and "suitcase pimp" who has moved back to his hometown after, by the sound of it, being chased out of Los Angeles. He seems like a charming guy that the audience wants to root for, but is slowly revealed to be the grooming, exploitative narcissist that he is. Baker has said that both the character and the film were heavily inspired by men that he met while doing research for his previous movies. "I found these men to be fascinating, because I was disturbed by them, quite honestly, but also wanted to know more about them," he explained.

"Red Rocket" is another film about sex work, yes, but also one that has more in common with "Four Little Words" than anything else in Baker's oeuvre. The movie is unapologetic about treating Mikey like a human being rather than a monster. Baker isn't attempting to condone or endorse Mikey's actions here; he's trying to wrap his head around how people end up becoming like this. Another film might depict a character like Mikey as though he's a comic book villain, but the reality is that anyone who has ever had a job even tangentially related to the sex work industry knows a dozen guys like this, and we must recognize them as the dirtbag grifters that they are.

This brings us to "Anora," the piece that feels like the coalescence of everything that came before it. Ani is an incredibly talented erotic dancer who sometimes dabbles in full-service sex work, but the film — like those who engage in her services — is often kept at an arm's length. Ani is treated like a PR problem by those around her before she's treated like a person, but Madison's brilliant performance prevents the audience from treating her like a concept to project onto. It's true, the film only works because of her performance, but that's precisely the point. Everything that Baker loves about art, he rolls into this story — sex work, gig work, races against the clock, hilarious one-liners from Baker's good-luck-charm Karren Karagulian, transactional relationships, actors acting their ass off, and a reminder that the American dream is exactly that for the majority of us: a dream.

Making movies about sex workers ultimately means making movies about a marginalized community, and as is the case with anyone telling a story (or in this case, stories) about a community they are not a part of, viewers are right to be skeptical of good intentions. I've seen plenty of film pundits question Baker's reasons for making these movies, often accusing him of being a class tourist or a peddler of exploitation. Does he have a "right" to be telling these stories? Should he be telling these stories at all? It's a necessary debate, but also one where there is no correct answer. It's hard enough getting a movie made when you've already got all the access, influence, and connections in the world (see also: Francis Ford Coppola self-financing "Megalopolis"), let alone if you're from a similar background as the characters Baker makes movies about.

The core problem isn't Baker's movies at all. Rather, it's that contemporary films about poor communities, the gig work economy, and sex workers that don't fetishize them or approach them with an absence of humanity (rivaled only by After School Specials treating the lives of real people as cautionary tales) are so lacking that Baker's movies now have the unasked for responsibility of representing the totality of the experiences of the communities his movies are about. 

Hence, "Starlet" can't just be about Jane, it has to be about all women working in independent porn. "Tangerine" can't just be about Sin-Dee and Alexandra, it has to be about all Black sex workers in Los Angeles. "The Florida Project" can't just be about Halley and Moonee, it needs to be about everyone who has ever lived in poverty. And "Anora" can't just be about this very strange part of Ani's life, it needs to be representative of all sex workers or else it's "bad."

Sean Baker's films require good faith acceptance that he is crafting these films from a place of love. However, given the horrific track record Hollywood has had with these communities in the past, I do not decry anyone who cannot bring themselves to offer him that grace. Baker's films would not be possible without the contributions of sex workers willing to share their stories with him, and because of his willingness to let them help craft his worlds, his filmography doubles as a beautiful look into the lives of people often ignored by mainstream cinema, with sex workers at the heart.

To help support sex workers and the quest to decriminalize sex work, please check out the Red Umbrella Fund.