Russian state propagandists overjoyed at Anora’s Oscar triumph

It was an unfamiliar sight for Russians watching state TV on Monday morning. For the first time since Vladimir Putin launched his full-scale invasion of Ukraine three years ago, the Oscars made the news.

The state anchor devoted the tightly controlled news bulletin to Anora, the night’s runaway success, spotlighting its cast of Russian actors – chief among them best supporting actor nominee Yura Borisov, who earned global praise for his performance as a brutish yet unexpectedly sensitive Russian bodyguard.

“Borisov didn’t take home a personal Oscar,” the state anchor remarked, “but he earned praise for his talent and professionalism from none other than Robert Downey Jr,” referencing Downey’s speech from the stage in Los Angeles, which lauded Borisov.

Sean Baker’s Anora, a Cinderella-like fairytale of a lapdancer’s whirlwind romance with the free-spending, reckless son of a Russian oligarch, has achieved something few cultural works have managed in recent years: it has been embraced both in the west and in an increasingly nationalistic, militarised Russia.

Anora took home five Oscars on Sunday, and has won acclaim both in Hollywood and Moscow for its sharp, unflinching portrayal of power dynamics and class struggle, earning particular praise for its authentic Russian dialogue. But for some, Anora is a difficult film to celebrate.

At a time when Russian bombs continue to fall on Ukraine, a story steeped in Russian themes and set in a pre-pandemic world – untouched by the invasion – feels, to its critics, unwelcome, like a retreat into a reality where the war doesn’t exist.

“There’s a lot about this film that unsettles me … It’s the third year of full-scale war … And here … not a single word about the war. The feeling of discomfort never quite leaves,” wrote the Ukrainian film producer Alexander Rodnyansky in a post on Instagram.

And perhaps more than anything, it is Borisov’s Oscar nomination that has troubled Ukrainians, who see it as a symbol of cultural normalisation amid Moscow’s aggression.

Before catching Baker’s attention with his raw portrayal of a gruff Russian miner in the Finnish film Compartment No 6, Borisov made his name in Moscow through a string of roles that fed into the Kremlin’s patriotic narrative. Among them was Kalashnikov, a biopic of Mikhail Kalashnikov, inventor of the AK-47, partially filmed in Crimea after its annexation by Russia in 2014. More recently, on his visits back to Moscow, Borisov has been promoting a new patriotic epic, this time starring as Russia’s most revered poet, Alexander Pushkin.

Neither Borisov nor his Russian co-star Mark Eydelshteyn, who portrays the entitled son of an oligarch in Anora, has publicly voiced support for Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. But neither have they spoken out against it, an ambiguity that has allowed both actors to move freely between Russia and the west.

For many, that silence speaks volumes. Since the start of the full-scale invasion, thousands of Russian artists and creatives have fled the country or spoken out at great personal risk.

As Borisov made his way to Los Angeles, Russian security services in Moscow last week arrested the prominent film critic Ekaterina Barabash. She was later charged with spreading “deliberately false information” – the catch-all label for those who oppose the war – and now faces up to a decade in prison.

“No such risks exist for Mr Borisov and Mr Eydelshteyn, who, thanks to the film’s embrace by the Hollywood establishment, are now heroes back home,” wrote Latvian American novelist and screenwriter Michael Idov, who previously worked in Moscow, in a piece for The New York Times.

That Anora’s success came amid the sharpest US-Russia thaw in years – fuelled by the Trump administration and at Ukraine’s cost – was not lost on anyone. “It’s a good night for Anora, two wins already. I imagine Americans are pleased to finally see someone stand up to a powerful Russian,” joked Oscar host Conan O’Brien, referencing the film’s plot, in which Anora goes up against the family of a Russian oligarch.

But for Russian propagandists, the film’s very presence at the Oscars was framed as a victory for Russian culture. “Russian culture can’t be cancelled. Russia itself can’t be cancelled,” wrote Sergei Markov, a prominent pro-Kremlin commentator, in a post on Telegram. “Sooner or later, the west will have to come to terms with Russia.”