Sorry, Baby, the feature debut of American writer-director Eva Victor, who also stars, is a clear announcement of an original new talent able to create highly inventive visuals with a limited budget. It is also a terrific — and sad and funny and contemplative — testimony about how trauma profoundly stains people’s lives, with far-reaching and unpredictable outcomes.
During the unforgettable final sequence of 'Sorry, Baby,' Agnes, a sexual assault survivor, vents about life with her best friend's baby: "I will never tell you that you are scaring me. I'll just say that is just like that sometimes." Overwhelmed by reactions she has faced around her after the attack she experienced, Agnes finds in a new being, someone who will also have to deal one day with the worst in the world, the ideal receptacle of her deepest feelings. In her masterful debut feature, Victor delivers an exercise in catharsis like few others; a celebration that life goes on despite everything; a mechanism to face the trauma and the evils that inevitably derail our lives. This is a true hug to the soul.
'Sorry, Baby' didn’t make me question the authenticity of its characters, dialogue or places. Humor works here because it’s grounded in reality and failures of people. Both Agnes and Lydia have their genuine quirkiness that reassures viewers everyone is weird, and that it’s okay to be weird. Beneath that humor, however, lies an honest debut about pain and aftermath of sexual assault.
Shot on location in Northeastern Massachusetts, chilliness hangs in the air of every frame, but Sorry, Baby – a uniquely special thing – is suffused with warmth.
Its fragmented literary structure and Victor’s captivating lead turn cohere theme, form, and content, melding the elliptical episodes into a canny representation of memory.
If Sorry, Baby works, it’s because Victor strikes such a tricky tone: Her debut is warm and compassionate, advancing a conversation for which we’re still trying to find the words.
Absolutely loved it! Trauma recovery, beautiful friendships, and kindness. Written, directed, and starring Eva Victor. Made on a 1 to 1.5M budget and purchased by A24 at Sundance for 8M. Barely distributed though. First perfect movie I've seen in 2025.
When we experience a traumatic tragedy, we often can’t fathom how we’re going to respond to it. Some reactions may follow expected patterns. But others may come across as wholly unpredictable, in large part because we don’t quite know what to make of them ourselves. That can become considerably more complicated when we don’t even know how to speak about them, to find the words to sufficiently express our feelings. And, when you combine all of these elements, you have the basis for the quandary faced by unnerved protagonist Agnes Ward (actor-writer-director Eva Victor in her debut feature). The film, told in a series of time-shuffled chapters over the course of several years, follows the troubling experience **** student/professor (Victor) enrolled in the English lit program at a small liberal arts college in rural New England, along with her patchwork attempts at reconciling her feelings about it. In the course of sorting out her emotions, her plans for dealing with her circumstances and the potential fallout involved, and the impact of the event on her life and prevailing outlook, she examines her options and feelings from a variety of angles. And, in the course of doing so, she engages in a series of introspective but often-vague conversations with her best friend (Naomi Ackie), her kindly but somewhat bumbling neighbor (Lucas Hedges), an embittered rival from the university (Kelly McCormack) and a Samaritan sandwich shop owner (John Carroll Lynch) who helps her overcome a serious panic attack while driving, among others. These dialogues often mix a curious combination of poignant observations, dark humor and blunt revelations. But therein lies the picture’s fatal flaw – this odd concoction of story elements doesn’t mesh well, leaving viewers wondering where the narrative is ultimately headed (the overriding uncertainty of the lead’s reaction to her circumstances notwithstanding). It’s as if this offering is constantly reaching for a profound insight that it’s fundamentally unable to adequately express, an experience that becomes ever more exasperating as the picture unfolds. That’s unfortunate given the subject matter involved here, but the goal is never sufficiently attained, presenting the audience with an array of random situations and a collection of unrelated characters that seem to provide the basis of something meaningful that never emerges. To its credit, there are some truly engaging moments (though not enough of them), backed by fine performances and some gorgeous cinematography. But those qualities aren’t nearly enough to save this lost and meandering exercise that seems innately incapable of answering its own questions, making for what essentially amounts to an ambitious but innately unsatisfying watch.
Eva Victor not only plays the central role, but she also wrote and directed this film. She plays a teacher at a college with what looks like one small building. The film is divided into different segments that basically address the same issue shifting around different times. It doesn’t matter, because the story is flat and one dimensional. The primary flaw is that Victor has created a character who’s not likable or particularly interesting. Ironically, Naomi Ackie, who plays her best friend, has a more appealing personality. The incident that causes the turmoil is only described and never generates much real emotion. Hey, Eva, sorry, baby, I can’t imagine why anyone would be interested in your story. Of local interest, Victor directed the music video “Night Shift” for Richmond singer Lucy Dacus.