‘Sorry, Baby’ Review: Eva Victor Wrote, Directed and Stars in What’s Sure to Be One of the Year’s Most Talked About Debuts
In “Sorry, Baby,” the defining moment of Agnes’ adult life happens off-camera, but it haunts nearly every other scene in the movie. A standout of the U.S. dramatic competition at Sundance, Eva Victor’s disarmingly funny, slow-to-unfold debut is less a film about sexual assault than it is a serious look at the process of rebuilding after such an experience. Sympathy merges with satire, and acceptance leads to questions (rather than the other way around), as Victor herself embodies a bright young woman who probably thought of herself as a dozen things — witty, independent, a sure-to-inspire future professor — but now must add “survivor” to that list.
A tall, willowy 20-something, Agnes is a brilliant literary mind who must rewrite everything, including her understanding of the word “brilliant,” after the professor (Louis Cancelmi) who’d freely offered such compliments makes a pass at her. “Do you think that’s why he’s telling me that I’m smart?” Agnes asks her lesbian roommate Lydie (Naomi Ackie), who impishly tells her to go for it. Agnes wouldn’t be the first to sleep with her thesis adviser, but she’s looking for a different kind of validation, and when he crosses the line, it shatters her trust in pretty much everything — to the extent that she’s apologizing to newborns for life’s inevitable disappointments by the film’s end.
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Early on, before Victor has even established the #MeToo dimension of the film, there’s a sense that she could be poking fun at her generation, especially the hyper-articulate grad school circle to which Agnes belongs. In one scene, after driving out from New York to visit her friend (who hasn’t left their Massachusetts college town), Lydie picks up a copy of Vladimir Nabokov’s “Lolita” from Agnes’ desk and whispers a knee-jerk “eww” under her breath. So that’s who they are (or at least seem to be): over-educated young progressives whose idealism is based on challenging the status quo.
But whatever your first impressions, Victor’s character comes in layers (later, we’ll see Agnes as a junior professor, defending “Lolita” in her seminar, introducing room for other points of view). Her observant, unconventional script isn’t so much nonlinear as elliptical, opening in the present and then jumping backward to “The Year With the Bad Thing” to show Agnes before the incident, when her smiles were more natural and her happiness wasn’t mostly a performance intended to make others feel comfortable. From that point, Victor’s narrative moves only forward, albeit in unusually curated chapters.
That early section tells us where things are headed for Agnes emotionally — a dark place, marked by depression and suicidal thoughts — but it’s only part of the picture, and it’s sort of a shock to compare to the three-years-younger version seen next. She seems so much lighter and more idealistic. If only someone could warn her what’s to come. If only the various institutions were prepared to deal with what does happen, from the male doctor who callously criticizes her for cleaning up after the assault (as if his advice will come in handy next time) to the female university workers who insist, “We know what you’re going through; we are women,” but do nothing to help.
Through it all, Lydie demonstrates the unquestioning allyship her roommate requires. When Agnes shows up with a kitten one day, Lydie takes it in stride: “Whatever you need.” This comfort animal will get her through the long months after Lydie and others have moved on with their lives, leaving Agnes behind to manage alone. Victor also includes scenes of a kind, nonthreatening male neighbor (a role that seems perfectly suited to Lukas Hedges’ uniquely sensitive energy), which suggest that not all men are problematic, while showing just how difficult it is for Agnes to reestablish intimacy.
The way “Sorry, Baby” unfolds, Victor doesn’t follow that textbook strategy of American screenwriting, where one fills a bulletin board with index cards featuring all the key plot points (“This is the scene where such-and-such happens,” and so forth), spelling out every major turning point on-screen. Victor’s approach is more oblique: Key incidents occur between scenes, and she instead presents seemingly mundane, everyday moments in which we have to play detective, putting together what happened. That may seem confusing or counter-dramatic to those accustomed to being spoon-fed, but it makes for a subtler, more lasting impact — a movie that stays with you, full of quiet lived-in details.
At the risk of setting expectations too high, “Sorry, Baby” (which was produced by “Moonlight” director Barry Jenkins and his partners at Pastel) feels like “Manchester by the Sea” in ways, from its Northeastern sense of place to the underlying notion of a life derailed, where the act of moving forward is more important than the setback itself. A late scene with John Carroll Lynch — as a caring stranger who shares kind words and a really good sandwich — is especially touching.
Victor has been acting here and there (most visibly on the last three seasons of “Billions”), but for most, the 30-year-old writer-director will come as a discovery. It’s no easy task to make a film about trauma when one’s elders — those who make the rules and gatekeep the opportunities — still feel the appropriate response to adversity is to toughen up and soldier on. Agnes no doubt spent an enormous time wallowing in her misfortune, but that’s not the picture Victor is presenting here. 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.
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