'Sorry, Baby' is on HBO Max — go watch it

CW: Sexual assault.

If we’ve talked IRL in the past few months, there’s a very good chance that I’ve implored you to seek out the movie Sorry, Baby… mainly so I could finally talk about it with someone, anyone. Well, it’s on HBO Max now, so please watch it and report back to me with your thoughts.

I’d been hearing really solid things about this film since it debuted at Sundance earlier this year. It's the first feature from Eva Victor who wrote, directed, and stars. If the name Eva Victor sounds familiar, it’s probably because of videos like this. Side note, if we thought that as a society we’d moved on from the need for this type of satire around women’s work (at least when it comes to the discourse), well… LOL.

But we’re not here to unpack bad faith clickbait, we’re here to celebrate a tiny miracle of a film. Since Sorry, Baby was already on my radar, when I saw it on the marquee at Los Feliz Three one Sunday afternoon, I looked up the showtimes on a whim. I was on my way to interview for a cat sitting gig and lo and behold, the timing worked perfectly for me to walk to the theater when I was done. I purchased my paper(!) ticket from a person(!) at the box office then took my seat just before the trailers began. Two separate people in the audience, seated on opposite sides of the room, were reading books to pass the time. It felt like stepping into an alternate reality. The film itself amplified this feeling.

Sorry, Baby employs a non-linear structure and zeroes in on the messiness… the one step forward, two steps back approach to life that inevitably results from having one’s bodily autonomy violated. We begin roughly three years after “the bad thing” has happened. Victor’s protagonist Agnes Ward is living alone in the house they once shared with their best friend Lydie when they were both grad students, where they were living when Agnes went to the home of Professor Decker, their thesis advisor, for feedback and discussion and was instead met by unwanted advances. Agnes is now a full time professor at the same institution and the office she occupies once belonged to her abuser. We get the sense that they don’t get out much — work aside — and they keep the people in their life at arm’s length. This includes their neighbor/situationship Gavin, who comes across as a deep, cleansing breath of a man thanks to a subtle yet fully realized portrayal by Lucas Hedges. At the very beginning of the film, Lydie (played by Naomie Ackie, who is stunning in every sense of the word) has just returned to visit for the first time in a while. No exposition is needed, we understand their bond based solely on how they interact. Whether it’s lofty topics like the book that Lydie is writing, or petty observations about the rude tone of another woman from their program, this friendship is deep, lived-in, and perfectly played. Before Lydie departs back to her life in New York with her partner Fran and the baby that she’s just revealed that she’s pregnant with, she makes Agnes promise to her that they won’t die.

When we shift back in time to the periods just before and just after the incident, we’re briefly introduced to a far less inhibited version of Agnes. We watch them meet their professor in his office only to have him reschedule, we follow them to the professor’s house and we’re made to watch the exterior of the house while the assault occurs, we see nightfall and people walking by who are blissfully unaware of what is occurring inside. But we, the audience, are pretty sure we know what’s happening inside. We watch it play out across Agnes’ face in silence as they drive home. We simply watch their face as they drive, processing it, attempting to find the narrative. When they tell Lydie what happened in detail, it’s horrific and full of all of the grey areas that perpetually haunt those of us who have experienced anything similar. And for as wonderful as Victor is at portraying relationships, they are even stronger at showing isolation. What do we look like when no one else is watching? What do we sound like when only the voices in our head are available for commentary?

Agnes’ actions are relatable in a bone deep, shakes fist at sky type of way. Their story becomes less about what was done and more about interrogating the reactions, most of which don’t really make narrative sense. Agnes panics during jury duty because they can’t bring themselves to admit they’ve been a victim of a crime. They reported what happened to the school who offered no recourse because the perpetrator had already left of his own volition. They didn’t go to the police because what if it ruined his life? If the absolute destruction of physical, mental, and moral safety while the thing is happening doesn’t kill you, a lifetime spent litigating your response and the responses of those around you surely will… metaphorically, at least.

But, but, but! This is also a very funny movie. For a trauma response to be this well observed, you almost have to be ready with the equal and opposite portrayal of how surreal and hilarious everyday incidents can be… And (of course) that there’s almost certainly bound to be a stranger to offer you a profound degree of kindness and a really good sandwich.