In a very satisfying way, the more recent work of writer-director Sean Baker has done to this point has lead clearly and cleanly to Anora. The film is a proper continuation of the kinds of characters and themes that have been emblematic of Baker’s work going back at least to his scintillating 2015 breakthrough, Tangerine. There are sex workers afforded dignity without sugarcoating the personal risk inherent to their trade and a general willingness to peer sympathetically into the unseemly corners of the culture that are often shunted aside or rendered with moralizing judgement on screen. He approaches the characters with a determination to get their situations exactly right, to be true to the way they move through the world, whether gently cajoling customers to find their way to the ATM, stealing a moment to themselves outside the club, or shrewdly negotiating the parameters of situations that are fairly unique to their world. No matter how intricate the film’s plot might be, Baker remains committed to the humanity of figures moving through it.

Anora also takes the headlong, hustling energy that has driven most of Baker’s work and channels it into focused storytelling that is lean and efficient, even as the film stretches comfortably past two hours in running time. In the film’s fundamental rhythms, Baker impishly apes Hollywood romcoms. He turns their tropes inside out to show all of the seams, the unreality beneath the fairy tale fuzz. Even so, Baker maintains the humor, the verve, and the spark of brightness. What if these sorts of movies were deep and tough as well as fun, he seems to ask as he provides the wholly enjoyable answer to his own question. And while we’re at it, what if a turning-point scene when the main character’s blithe, overly confident excursion into a risky situation abruptly turns dangerous as she’s beset by thugs becomes a spectacular extended set piece that is like a classic screwball comedy with brandished weapons, shattered glass, and defensive biting? Wouldn’t that be grand? It sure is.

In the title role, Mikey Madison is a startling joy. She plays the character’s headstrong bravado as if drawing from a bottomless well of charm, which in turn serves to make the moments of vulnerability all the more potent. This is especially true when Ani — she prefers Ani to Anora — strains to regain the control that is forcefully wrenched away from her. Baker surrounds Madison with little-known character actors and relative newcomers, all of them doing tremendous work. Watching Anora is an immersive experience because of how fully realized it is. No detail lands falsely and every moment matters. Anora is complete, and it is a triumph.