‘Sorry, Baby’ – Review
A24 has built its reputation on daring, emotionally fearless cinema, and their latest release, Sorry, Baby, continues that legacy in unforgettable style. Marking the debut of writer-director Eve Victor — who also takes on the lead role — this film is a haunting, intimate, and deeply empathetic work that announces the arrival of a bold new voice in independent cinema. It’s raw, it’s human, and it lingers long after the credits roll.
Something terrible happened to Agnes (Eve Victor). But life goes on for everyone else. When a friend visits on the brink of an important milestone, Agnes realizes how stuck she’s been, in this bittersweet story of finding your way after your world comes crashing down.
When it comes to original, boundary-pushing cinema, A24 has the game on lock. And with Sorry, Baby, debut filmmaker Eve Victor delivers something that’s raw, unflinching, and beautifully human. This is an emotionally loaded, deeply personal story that doesn’t just play out on screen; it hits you in the gut and stays there.
Victor not only directs but steps in front of the camera as Agnes, a literature professor whose life is fractured by a horrific act of sexual violence. From there, the narrative unfolds across years, exploring the echoes of trauma, the isolating weight of silence, and the fragile thread of hope that slowly starts to weave its way back into her life. Nothing is ever sensationalized. In fact, nothing is shown — but everything is felt. That’s where Victor’s gift as a storyteller shines, grounding the film in compassion, restraint, and raw empathy.
Sorry, Baby is not a film that screams at you. Instead, it whispers, gnaws, and lingers. Victor’s performance as Agnes is remarkable in its quiet intensity. She embodies a woman haunted by something that can’t be shaken, yet still capable of moments of humour and grace. That humour, when it arrives, is completely unexpected and disarming — little jolts of humanity that remind you life, even after devastation, is never one-note. It’s this balance of pain and wit that gives Sorry, Baby its unique rhythm and keeps it from slipping into despair.
Watching the film feels less like observing and more like sharing an experience. Victor crafts her scenes with intimacy and patience, allowing the audience to breathe inside Agnes’ world. This is cinema as empathy, an invitation to sit with someone else’s struggle, to absorb the weight of it, and to feel the flickers of release when they arrive.
The film’s ending is where Victor truly cements herself as a filmmaker to watch. Without giving anything away, it offers a cathartic, deeply touching sense of closure. Not finality, not resolution — but a suggestion of healing. It’s tender, open-ended, and makes you consider the possibilities for Agnes beyond the credits. That choice is bold and deeply affecting, leaving you turning it over long after you leave the cinema.
What makes Sorry, Baby stand out is how singular Victor’s voice feels. This is not a debut that plays it safe. It’s contemplative, daring, and deeply humane. Yes, it’s a heavy watch, the kind of film that requires you to lean in and really engage, but the payoff is immense. This is cinema that matters.
With Sorry, Baby, Eve Victor announces herself as an auteur in the making, one with a fearless eye and a tender heart. It’s a work of empathy, of pain, of resilience, and ultimately, of hope. You don’t just watch it. You feel it. And once you’ve felt it, you won’t forget it.
Image: A24 Films
