Earlier this year, Chloe Malle, Vogue’s head of editorial content, told me that I would love this movie she’d just seen: Sorry, Baby from actor and debut filmmaker Eva Victor. “It’s so Hannah Jackson-coded,” she said.
On seeing it myself, at first I didn’t know what to make of that assessment. Victor’s film follows Agnes Ward, a young graduate student and then English professor, who is trying to move on after being sexually assaulted by her thesis advisor. But Chloe was also right: Sorry, Baby is extremely up my alley, a deeply moving, highly empathetic story of overcoming trauma, laced with pitch-black humor. (Oh, to be seen so clearly by your boss!) It is the best film I saw this year.
I can understand why you may not have rushed out to see a film with sexual assault so central to its plot, but Victor—who also wrote and stars in it—approaches that thorny topic with the utmost care. First, and perhaps most crucially, there is no depiction of violence; the lingering shot of a house’s exterior is used in its place. Yet Sorry, Baby doesn’t elide Agnes’s trauma, either; it is punctuated with moments—from Agnes answering a jury duty summons to a third-act revelation that begets a panic attack—to indicate, in no uncertain terms, that she’s been affected on a cellular level. No matter the scenario, Victor portrays PTSD as a paralyzing force with accuracy and grace—an all-too-rare combination.
Still, Sorry Baby is anything but trauma porn. It’s a total riot, with some of its most hilarious beats landing just when you think there’s nothing funny to say. When Agnes, accompanied by her best friend Lydie (a stellar Naomi Ackie), goes to the hospital after she is assaulted, the doctor tells her that it would have been best to go to the emergency room right after the incident. “Oh. Okay,” Agnes says. “I’ll definitely keep that in mind for next time.”
Victor’s firecracker performance is bolstered by a remarkable supporting cast, including Lucas Hedges as her neighbor-turned-lover, Gavin; and John Carroll Lynch as Pete, a rugged sandwich shop owner who shows Agnes kindness during a dark moment. In Lydie, Ackie plays an unquestioningly supportive best friend, someone willing to do anything for Agnes—be it procuring hot dogs or torching a predator’s office. But between Victor’s writing and Ackie’s acting, Lydie is far from a two-dimensional figure. Throughout the film, Lydie undergoes her own transformation, questioning her sexuality, falling in love, and becoming a mother. In fact, it’s her growth—her ability to leave their small college town and start a new life—that underscores Agnes’s stagnation.
Perhaps you’ve reached this point peeved that I’ve divulged so much of Sorry, Baby’s plot. But don’t let my mild spoilers deter you from watching. The film’s virtues don’t hinge on the element of surprise, and Victor will win you over with their thoughtful, tender, and deeply funny approach to a devastating topic. Maybe their work will give you insight into what somebody in your life has experienced. Maybe you’ll find that you needed this film more than you know.
