Sorry, Baby

Eva Victor's story highlights Agnes's journey post a traumatic experience as life moves on. Agnes tries to move on but the trauma doesn't let her while she really is unable to take legal course of action. The story focuses on her emotional journey as she acknowledges the bad thing that happened to her and tries hard to live with it. The world is such, thet bad things just happen and it is never easy being a woman in the said world.

This is the kind of film that rendered me speechless. It started off casually with an overdose of the F words which helped showcase Agnes's bond with Lydie. But the 5 minute scene of her confiding to Lydie over what really happened, made me sit up. What followed next was simply terrific piece of writing and execution. Eva brought Agnes's character alive and her way of dealing with what happened was simply holding a mirror to us, the viewers. This is not the film about Agnes fighting for justice but a film about her fight to survive, move on and worse, accept the bad thing. The way she pushes herself to learn to live with it, was indeed a tough watch.

What makes the screenplay terrific is how Eva Victor tries to insert humor into the narrative. I felt sad with Agnes while having a chuckle now and then despite the grim moments. She really struggles to get on with her life and hyperventilates, which is a normal thing that one expects from her. Then the narrative shifts to showcasing that the bad thing just happens and Agnes has to live with it, leaving us the audience to accept the very thing as normal. It's infuriating to feel the helplessness of the character but also hold onto the hope of her pulling through. The rest of us are like Pete, while the countless Agnes' are made to move on with their lives and apologizing for the world we have created.

The only character that is actually developed is 'Agnes' played by the director Eva Victor and she delivers a credible performance BUT this film would be akin to reading three different books at the same time ; read a chapter in one book go to a different book and so on. There are a couple of scenes that are genuinely moving AND I enjoyed watching them but it was extremely tedious getting to them. There are well worn tropes I won't go into here but the dialogue is for the most part unconvincing and the other characters less so . Overall the movie feels like it was made by an amateur. To produce a movie and be its leading character was probably never going to work; a rookie mistake. Sound advice, don't be your own stuntman.

This is another film where I have a ton to say, but don't want my original thoughts getting lost in a giant pile of word vomit while I try and put the thoughts to the page.

Very clearly: I am not a woman, and have not gone through the specific type of trauma that takes place in this film. That said, I am a human being and have experienced a multitude of what many would consider to be out of the norm excessive traumas in my life, from an ex partner committing suicide to losing a brother to an accidental fentanyl overdose.

Trauma is something I believe until recently in this country, was an issue that was somewhat a shoved aside, something that wasn't talked about, something that in my parents day (I'm 43), would even be something to be embarrassed about. I'm sure all our Gen X parents were told to 'Man up' at some point in their lives.

Having gone through these very personal traumatic situations in my life has had a tremendous effect on who I am as a person, and how I deal with the outside world, and how I am able to control my own inner thoughts and emotions.

This is an incredible directorial debut from Eva Victor, who like many other found during 2020 while we were all stuck at our homes, and who in a very dark sarcastic way was able to breath some life and laughter into our minds during that psychotic year (also the year my brother passed).

With this film Eva paints around an act of force so intense and so heavy, without ever actually naming the act, but what she brilliantly shows you as a viewer is what becomes of someone who has experienced trauma throughout the following years, whether it be through moments of pure fear, moments of unwilling panic, moments of using laughter to continue to grieve, and moments of pure unadulterated pain.

I've been through these moments in my life, and I am thankful this film exists, as if you have not experienced heavy trauma in your life, this helps paint the portrait of what it's like for those of us who have.

I love the control of tone throughout and how it remains somber while allowing moments of breaths of fresh air through sarcastic comedy to allow your brain to take a breather.

The film executes a non-linear path that bookends itself with a monologue that I will definitely be reading over again and going back to in moments of solitude where I need to remember that even though trauma exists in my life, there are ways to pass through to get to the light at the end of the tunnel.

I'm looking forward to more from Eva Victor. Fantastic, touching work here.

There is something especially individual about the lead characterisation here, and even though Eve Victor delivers strongly, I just didn't really engage with it. We conclude fairly swiftly that her "Agnes" has suffered some trauma in her life and that now, in her late twenties, she has taken up a professorial job in a small rural community where she seems content to live en seul. Except, that is, until her friend "Lydia" (Naomie Ackie) comes to visit. She and her new girlfriend are expecting a baby and though joyous of the news, it seems to awaken in "Agnes" an appreciation of a hitherto subdued sense of loneliness. During this visit, and thereafter, the plot dances between timelines as we learn more about both women, particularly "Agnes" and along the way are put through quite an emotional wringer. There is a degree of humour here, but it's not the giggle sort - more along the observational, story of life, line that is often quite relatable but frequently swamped in a surfeit of dialogue. It also strays into the melodramatic one too often, too - not least as it descends a little into a well of self-pity that isn't really supported by any depth of likeable characterisation. Ultimately, I think that was probably my issue with "Agnes" here. I just couldn't really empathise with her, despite the heinous nature of the incident, and though entirely justifiable, I found her just a little too self-centred. Sorry, baby, but I just felt fairly underwhelmed and uncomfortably disconnected all the way through.

Sorry, Baby is a slow burn-it takes its time to build tension, and for a while, you're not quite sure where it's going or what it's about. But that's what makes it work. The early pacing is essential; it lets you settle into the characters and truly get to know them before the tension creeps in and the stakes start to rise.

The acting is incredible-subtle, restrained, and deeply natural. It's a masterclass in quiet, grounded performance. There's a scene where the lead delivers a monologue in the tub, and it doesn't feel like she's reciting lines. We're with her in that memory. We're seeing what she saw. I got the sense that some of the film may have been improvised, but if so, it only added to the realism. The whole film has a lived-in, organic quality.

That said, a few of the smaller supporting roles toward the end didn't quite land for me and briefly took me out of the experience. And I'm still unsure what Agnes wanted-what her internal drive was. There's such beautiful artistic depth here, but I couldn't fully grasp what was pushing her forward. Then again, maybe that's the point, as hinted in the final monologue.

There's also powerful symbolism throughout. One moment that stood out was her driving, the headlights trailing behind her like a new memory that will chase her forever. Another was the way the passage of time was expressed through visual shifts, especially at the professor's home. These moments are executed with both restraint and emotional weight.

The film resists cliché. One of its most striking choices is its sense of timelessness. You can't quite place what year it's set in-there are no cell phones, the clothing is neutral, and her thesis is typed on paper rather than submitted digitally. If I had to guess, I'd say 1998. I caught a glimpse of an older New York license plate that reinforced that impression.

Ultimately, Sorry, Baby delivers a quiet but profound message about humanity: we have to be prepared to live in an imperfect world. We will get hurt-that's just part of it-but we have to find a way to keep going.