Sorry, Baby

It’s inherently risky when you choose to write, direct, and star in your own film, especially if you’re doing all three in your debut. The more roles you assign to yourself, the more intertwined the film becomes with your own identity and the more scrutiny you face if the film disappoints. Thankfully for Eva Victor, there is very little to scrutinize in their daring, heartfelt debut Sorry, Baby, which happens to be one of the best films of the decade.

Sorry, Baby follows a young student named Agnes (Eva Victor) who goes through a traumatic event in college and watches how their relationships shift after that experience. Though the core of this film is a difficult subject to discuss, Victor’s tender and thoughtful approach on the material allows for there to be an abundance of humor in the world surrounding this incident. It makes for a miraculous balancing act tonally, as most filmmakers would never dream of tackling these events with humor, and the few who might would likely create something disrespectful and insincere. We are blessed, then, that Victor is not most filmmakers. Rather than focus on the traumatic incident, Sorry, Baby chooses to depict how life goes on afterwards. Victor does not even show the incident, instead presenting us with shots outside the site the event occurred at. Yet we feel everything Agnes goes through nonetheless, with their complex emotions feeling raw and open due to the humor that surrounds the trauma. Whether the humor is to cope, to soothe, or to juxtapose characters, it always lands. Even if the moments of comedy are immediately preceded or followed by a poignant scene, they feel earned and vital to the film’s message. 

And it is Sorry, Baby’s message that has stuck with me the most since my first viewing of it, as I have never seen a film discuss trauma the way this one does. Life goes on after your trauma. People exist around your trauma. The world is largely unchanged because of your trauma. It feels like a betrayal that normalcy exists even after you suffer, and you may even feel selfish for thinking that you cannot be the only one to be affected. It may be a painful outlook on how the world around you reacts after you suffer a horrific, life-altering experience, but it is ultimately a realistic one. Agnes feels embarrassed by their trauma and only views it as something to be upset by because of how other people react to it. This depiction is a truly powerful decision that will not only move audiences but also certainly provide many people with unresolved trauma some form of catharsis and solidarity. I certainly found a lot of meaning in Agnes in ways I hadn’t in films before and was in awe of the dialogue and exploration the film features. And if I couldn’t love the first ninety-five percent of the film enough, the ending scene is absolutely beautiful and ties the film together masterfully. Sorry, Baby is pure cinematic magic that I got completely lost in, especially thanks to how compelling its lead is.

But as wonderful as Agnes is, Sorry, Baby is not a one-person show. The delightful side characters that occupy the film embody the themes of the film perfectly with a combination of strong writing and earnest performances. Lucas Hedges and Naomi Ackie get the most to do and feel very natural in their larger roles. That being said, you get invested in all of the characters from the moment you meet them, and you yearn to see more from them the moment credits roll. It's a testament to this film’s excellent actors and script.

Victor’s direction is perhaps less refined than their acting and writing, but its simplicity and efficiency in bringing the material to life is incredibly effective. If anything, I’m more excited to see what project they’ll do next and how their future work will improve visually. 

It is a shame A24 has chosen such a slow rollout for this wonderful film, which doesn’t even go wide for three more weeks. Everyone deserves to see Sorry, Baby, even if they may not all connect with it to the degree I was able to. However, I know for certain that there are many out there who will see a part of themselves in the film they’ve never seen reflected back at them before. That is the beauty of art. That is the beauty of Eva Victor’s Sorry, Baby. 

10/10