Films, at their finest, can subtly convey emotions we’ve experienced but struggle to express. Moreover, when dealing with feelings, precise articulation can be overvalued; a purpose of art is to delve into the ineffable, and occasionally, it’s comforting to allow a film to undertake some of our emotional processing.
This is the role that Eva Victor, in her debut as writer, director, and star, seeks to achieve with her film Sorry, Baby. Victor portrays Agnes, a scholar in her late twenties who has remained in the quiet college town where she completed her postgraduate studies. This decision appears to have been advantageous: she secured a full-time teaching position at her former university, emulating the path of Preston Decker (Louis Cancelmi), the charismatic instructor who guided her thesis. Soon after Agnes begins her new role, her closest friend Lydie (), a former schoolmate, visits from New York. Lydie brings significant news: recently wed, she has just discovered she is pregnant. Agnes is pleased for her, yet also feels deserted. Lydie is progressing, redefining her post-graduate life in a manner Agnes finds herself unable to.
The reason for this becomes clear: Agnes was sexually assaulted during her final year of graduate school. Sorry, Baby shifts between past and present, detailing the occurrences preceding the assault and its repercussions, as Agnes grapples with the complexities of sexual trauma, including the mix of anger, guilt, and self-blame that victims frequently experience.
While the incident itself is not depicted, Agnes’s account of it is fraught with distress, not merely due to the physical and emotional suffering it inflicted, but because she had liked and placed trust in the assailant—she even momentarily considered a sexual attraction, before realizing at a crucial point that she felt none. Victor, both in her portrayal and the film’s construction, courageously examines these conflicting emotions. There’s an unstated expectation for all victims of sexual assault to react in a specific manner: presumably with unreserved rage or a desire for vengeance. Victor, however, ventures into more nuanced ground. Agnes opts not to press charges against her attacker, stating, “I want him to stop being someone who does that. And if he went to jail, he’d just be a person who does that who’s also in jail.” Agnes seeks not retribution; rather, she wishes the situation had unfolded differently, to not have been let down by someone she had faith in.
One might argue that Agnes’s choice not to pursue legal action puts other women at risk, but this is not the central theme of Sorry, Baby. Given her treatment, especially by two supposedly feminist campus representatives whose role is ostensibly to assist her, her decision becomes comprehensible. This film is a type of comedy addressing personal trauma, a fine balance that Victor largely manages to achieve. Unexpected moments of humor emerge: What course of action is there when your cat presents you with a nearly deceased mouse? There’s no ideal remedy for this predicament, though Agnes tries her utmost. Victor and the supporting cast adeptly handle the film’s shifts in tone. Ackie—who was excellent in the 2022 title role of —portrays Lydie as the sort of friend who can discern your innermost secrets, regardless of how meticulously you try to conceal them; she attends with both her hearing and vision. And while Victor occasionally renders Agnes’s awkwardness a tad too deliberately charming, the actor subtly shines in moments with her timid neighbor, Gavin (), who visits at agreed-upon intervals for casual encounters. Victor illustrates how Agnes hesitates just before allowing herself to desire too much from any single individual. There is no simple method to “recover from” or “move past” her experience—yet we observe her gradually, step by step, relearning how to navigate the world. She stands to gain nothing by withdrawing from it.
