Hollywood has always loved a hooker, so long as she has a heart of gold.
The history of prostitutes in film is one in which the prostitute’s depth of character is portrayed as ironic, surprising, even tragic, given her line of work. She’s usually fallen out of desperation rather than by design. She is Fantine of Les Misérables, selling pieces of herself—her hair, her teeth, and eventually her whole body—to stay alive, only to die. She’s Vivian Ward of Pretty Woman, turning tricks to pay her rent while she dreams of the man who will finally rescue her from this life that she never wanted. She’s Holly Golightly, coquettishly requesting fifty bucks, about $500 in current dollars, from a male companion—“for the powder room,” she says, but they both know she’s being paid for her company, and maybe more than that.
Among these reluctant, unlucky harlots, the titular heroine of Anora stands apart. The movie, about a sex worker who marries the spoiled 21-year-old son of a wealthy Russian oligarch, swept last night’s Academy Awards; it won five trophies including for Best Picture, Best Director, and Best Actress.
