Sorry, Baby, 2025.
Written and Directed by Eva Victor.
Starring Eva Victor, Naomi Ackie, Lucas Hedges, John Carroll Lynch, Louis Cancelmi, Kelly McCormack, Liz Bishop, Chhoyang Cheshatsang, Marc Carver, Jordan Mendoza, Celeste Oliva, Jesse Gabbard, Anabel Graetz, Natalie Rotter-Laitman, Lucien Spelman, Priscilla Manning, and Conor Sweeney.
SYNOPSIS:
Something bad happened to Agnes. But life goes on – for everyone around her, at least.
Shortly after experiencing a traumatic incident, Eva Victor’s Agnes addresses what happened to a doctor. And while the comedian’s writing/directorial debut Sorry, Baby deals with well-trodden heavy subject material, it occasionally does so with a sharp, darkly comedic touch that taps into the enraging monotone indifference some survivors are treated with, rather than mining tragedy for tasteless laughs. Given the complex nature of the character’s feelings regarding life after this incident, it’s the type of razor-edged walk that can only be pulled off by someone with Eva Victor’s skill set and her acting in the leading role. Simply put, it’s a phenomenally complex filmmaking debut and performance.
Told in a nonlinear fashion (although the bulk of the film does unfold chronologically), Agnes is thrilled to be reunited with her gay best friend Lydie (a beautifully tender and supportive turn by Naomi Ackie making for the kind of ear-lending, reassuring, patient friend we should all strive to be, especially when it comes to anyone going through what Agnes is processing) to catch up. Postgrad school, Lydie left while Agnes stayed behind, a surprising choice considering one horrible memory. It turns out Agnes has actually taken up a teaching gig at that same university, which also happens to be related to her trauma. By no stretch has Agnes entirely moved on from what has happened. It is not helping that some of her former peers still in town treat her with a jealous, nasty attitude for her academic prowess and beauty and for being Professor Decker’s (Louis Cancelmi) favorite student.
Three years ago, while divorced and unable to see his young son, Professor Decker invited Agnes to his home to talk about her thesis paper, a work the novelist admires just as much as she cites one of his books, a naturalistic piece she often finds herself thinking about. Rather than following Agnes into the home, the photography lingers on the house from the other side of the street. In a static position, day cuts to evening, which then cuts darker into the night. It makes for restrained, sensitive filmmaking that plants unsettling thoughts, tipping viewers off to the obvious without showing it. We already know what has happened even before a stranger on the sidewalk points out to Agnes that she is stumbling around with her shoes untied as she wanders in shock toward her car.
Back at home, Agnes, still shellshocked, nervously recounts to Lydie the details in a state of disbelief over what has happened. Crucial to the film’s messaging, Lydie does not freak out, panic, or show fear; she listens to Agnes and gently explains that, yes, the “bad thing” happened. Again, this is not a film that indulges in misery, though. As a filmmaker, Eva Victor boldly finds uncomfortably awkward humor in the indignities that survivors face when they bring up their abuse to matter-of-fact doctors who speak like they are walking the patient through a standard checkup or a room full of strangers. There is also some introspection on identity and how living with this pain has affected Agnes’ love life, gradually getting closer to her polite next-door neighbor Gavin (Lucas Hedges).
These supporting characters, ranging from Lydie to Gavin and others, also don’t merely exist to service Agnes’ character. They have their own lives, with Lydie having found love and preparing to be a mother. There are reveals as to why at least one of the other students is downright bitter over Agnes’ success, leading to an even deeper conversation on the material. Some elements are clichéd, such as Agnes taking in a stray kitten, which begins to symbolize putting herself back together, but Eva Victor transcends it by working in some more dark laughs. It’s also filled with seemingly minor but impactful observations from Agnes regarding her abuser.
Sorry, Baby doesn’t end on a joke, though, but rather some distressing, shattering truth about life and what we can do when bad things happen to others. Eva Victor has taken a somewhat familiar narrative, turning it sideways with profundity and a masterful balancing act in tones and themes that, theoretically, shouldn’t be able to coexist. However, one rule about comedy is that a legitimately great talent can find humor in any situation and bring out difficult but necessary social talking points.
Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★ ★ ★
Robert Kojder is a member of the Chicago Film Critics Association, Critics Choice Association, and Online Film Critics Society. He is also the Flickering Myth Reviews Editor. Check here for new reviews and follow my BlueSky or Letterboxd
