Eva Victor (pulling triple duty as writer, director, and lead star) walks a tightrope in Sorry, Baby. This is a film about trauma, rape & societal response to it, sexual politics, and all those timely buzzpoints that are often the subject of oh so serious films. And yet, Sorry, Baby can be convincingly called a comedy. Of course, it is not haha throughout and there’s nothing superfluous about it. But there’s an easygoing vibe to the film, which could have turned the film into lackadaisical at best and offensive at worst in lesser hands, but Victor’s writing and directing is so sure that there’s nary a wrong step.
The protagonist of Sorry, Baby (Agnes) is a woman who does not want to be the defined by the bad thing (the film’s wording) that happened to her. She is a funny, confident, brash but in an endearing way woman. She doesn’t let the bad thing affect even her sex life moving forward. In fact, all the sex scenes in the film are funny (the bad thing is not shown).
But it does intrude in her life, no matter how much she tries to stuff it inside (she doesn’t even report it to the police and doesn’t want the perpetrator to die). The confusion it leads to in a person who is generally of an easygoing, warm demeanour who is ready with a quip for every occasion is laid bare in a startling, funny, and overall standout court scene. In her interview for jury duty, she somehow transforms a situation where she is the victim into one where she appears guilty.
Her sadness has outlets to compound through the reactions she gets from what are supposed to be her support systems. The doctor who examines her is straightforward to the point of insensitivity and misreads the situation by trying to match her quip for quip. The college representatives (she is a Literature student and the perpetrator is her professor) admit to her they only have limited power. Again, the film’s strange dichotomy comes into play, as these scenes can leave a viewer angry but also guffawing (I may struggle to suppress a laugh after hearing “We are women” are going forward).
But if there are unreliable and menacing people that surround her, they are outweighed by warm, consoling friends, strangers, and fuck buddies. Naomi Ackie plays her best friend and roommate, and she is exactly what Agnes needs in the aftermath of the bad thing. John Carroll Lynch has a lovely cameo, once again serving a reminder that the man most famous for playing the probable Zodiac killer is actually at his best in these fuzzy bear roles. Lucas Hedges as Agnes’ neighbour gives a hilarious performance and so does Kelly McCormack, a professional mostly outclassed rival, whose jealousies Agnes takes in an endearing and not threatening way.
Sorry, Baby will feel relevant to anyone who wants to be the funniest person in the room but also wants to be taken seriously. Despite its serious themes, it is a warm embrace of a film.
It comes in the wake of a swathe of weak #MeToo films, where Hollywood seemed obliged to address the issue instead of adding anything to it or to explore the varied reactions to it a la She Said. If The Assistant was the best film dealing directly with the movement, Sorry, Baby is something like a widening of the movement’s horizons, where the internal victories, of overcoming shame, guilt, even awkwardness, are given just as much, if not more, precedence as external victories. It’s telling that the doer of the bad thing is not shown anymore after doing it.
The biggest recommendation I can give this film though is that it is funny as fuck and comforting like snuggling with your best friend on the couch.
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