‘Sorry, Baby’: Sundance Review

Dir/scr: Eva Victor. US. 2024. 103mins 

“Something pretty bad happened to me,” admits the main character of Sorry, Baby, a fragile comedy-drama that examines how a private trauma haunts a young woman long after it occurred. Writer-director Eva Victor’s superb feature debut jumbles its chronology, presenting fragments of different years in the life of a twenty-something academic, the memory of that terrible event revisiting her in waves. Delicately segueing from deadpan humour to delicate poignancy, Sorry, Baby is guided by the filmmaker’s graceful lead performance, which captures the guilt, anger and sadness of a woman who once seemingly had a bright future — until, suddenly, everything changed.

Guided by the filmmaker’s graceful lead performance

Screening in Sundance’s US Dramatic Competition, the film should be a prize pickup for a specialty distributor, even if the subject matter might be triggering to some viewers. Online and social-media comic Victor is a relatively new face for moviegoers, so commercial prospects may not be robust. But strong reviews — not to mention the presence of Oscar winner Barry Jenkins as one of Sorry, Baby’s producers — should help drive discerning viewers to theatres. 

Told in five chapters, the film actually begins with one of its later chronological installments. Small-town English teacher Agnes (Victor) is thrilled when her best friend Lydie (Naomi Ackie), who recently moved to New York, arrives for a visit. Newly married with a baby on the way, Lydie is concerned as she recognises the telltale signs of Agnes’ crippling anxiety. Sternly, Lydie implores Agnes, “Don’t die,” although Agnes tries to laugh off her friend’s worries. Agnes insists she won’t kill herself — after all, she explains, she’s doing much better than she was a few years ago.

The next chapter, a flashback to when Agnes and Lydie were in graduate school, explains much of what was left intriguingly opaque in the previous segment. The less one knows going into Sorry, Baby the better, but we will discover that the cause of Agnes’ future distress stems from a fateful encounter with her admiring advisor Preston (Louis Cancelmi), who believes she’s an extraordinary writer. Lydie, however, teases Agnes that the handsome, divorced Preston is interested in more than just her mind.

Sorry, Baby’s dry sense of humour initially conceals the pain Agnes carries throughout most of the film. Victor plays Agnes as someone whose default demeanour is ironic or awkward, almost as if she walks through life out of step with the world around her. But in the grad-school segment, we find a slightly different Agnes, one who is still insecure but also a bit more outgoing. Then, after a run-in with Preston, which the writer-director handles with restraint, Agnes changes, and the subsequent chapters offer glimpses into how she has (or hasn’t) coped with the shocking incident. It’s a superb performance full of quietly funny moments that give voice to how trauma isn’t something one simply ’gets over’ — indeed, the journey can be long and unpredictable. Even Agnes’ hesitation to tell others about what happened shows an insight into the complexity of such grief.

The film never succumbs to mawkishness or treats Agnes as a woeful victim. Although Sorry, Baby takes Agnes’ pain seriously, Victor often makes bitterly hilarious observations about society’s discomfort in showing empathy toward women who are dealing with personal suffering. (A visit to Agnes’ callous male doctor is especially biting.) If the filmmaker might occasionally be faulted for jokes that don’t land — an excruciatingly annoying colleague (Kelly McCormack) is the picture’s rare sitcom-y element — the tonal control is otherwise impressive.

Composer Lia Ouyang Rusli’s poignant piano score accentuates the sense of Agnes as a bright but broken soul, and the supporting performances are generally lovely. Lucas Hedges plays Agnes’ charming, equally awkward neighbour who becomes her infrequent sex partner, but Ackie deserves special kudos as Lydie, the sort of unwaveringly supportive friend any of us would be lucky to have. It’s in her troubled silences as she observes Agnes that we understand the depths of what has been taken from Agnes, despite her outwardly sardonic, quick-witted manner.

Inevitably, many prospective viewers will know going into Sorry, Baby precisely what has happened to Agnes. But there is a lightness of touch here that, if anything, makes Agnes’ unsteady recovery all the more affecting. Victor understands how such a trauma can impact a person, but won’t let it define Agnes. No wonder the film is as alive, thoughtful and gently defiant as she is.