"Sorry, Baby" (2025) Movie Review: A Frank, Funny, and Fearless Debut That Redefines the Trauma Narrative
Sorry Baby, which premiered at the 2025 Sundance Film Festival and was quickly picked up by A24, marks the bold and affecting feature debut of Eva Victor—who writes, directs, and stars in the film. Co-starring Naomi Ackie, Lucas Hedges, and Louis Cancelmi, this 93-minute indie drama is both sharply constructed and emotionally honest. Produced by Barry Jenkins and his Pastel production company, the film offers a compassionate and nuanced look at the aftermath of sexual assault, examining not the event itself but its ripples through the years that follow. Told in a series of nonlinear chapters, Sorry, Baby explores friendship, trauma, identity, and the absurd ways life persists in moving forward. This film review explores why Sorry Baby stands out as one of the most remarkable American indie debuts of 2025.
Genre:Comedy, Drama
A Story That Begins After the Bad Thing
Sorry Baby begins not at the moment of crisis, but long after it. Agnes (Eva Victor), a literature professor in a sleepy New England college town, welcomes a visit from her best friend Lydie (Naomi Ackie), who now lives in New York and is pregnant with her first child. The tone of their reunion is joyous, intimate, and full of inside jokes—until we sense an undertow of something heavier.
The film doesn’t build suspense around what happened. It tells us upfront: something bad happened to Agnes. But Victor’s script is more interested in the complexities of life after trauma—how pain lingers in corners, and how laughter and grief often occupy the same space. Life goes on. That’s the miracle and the curse.
Eva Victor Delivers a Star-Making Performance
As Agnes, Eva Victor commands the screen with deadpan wit, vulnerability, and emotional precision. Her performance unfolds in fragments—sharp with sarcasm one moment, then dissolving into unexpected tenderness the next. She avoids playing the character as a victim or a cliché. Instead, she presents Agnes as a deeply human, deeply funny person navigating a world that’s often oblivious to her pain.
Victor’s ability to blend sardonic humor with raw emotional honesty is what makes Sorry, Baby so refreshing. She’s awkward, sarcastic, and self-aware—but also wounded and looking for something to hold onto. Through her eyes, we witness the contradiction of living with trauma: how someone can smile while holding the weight of the worst thing that ever happened to them.
A Friendship That Grounds the Film
Naomi Ackie gives one of her most emotionally resonant performances as Lydie, Agnes’ long-distance best friend. Their relationship—intimate, familiar, and deeply rooted—is the emotional spine of the movie. Their banter is warm and unfiltered, their affection never in doubt, even when Lydie expresses concern about Agnes’ emotional isolation.
Their conversations about everything—from grad school regrets to motherhood to sex—are disarmingly honest and often hilarious. But underneath their jokes lies a shared history and a mutual commitment to showing up for each other. In a landscape filled with romantic dramas, it’s refreshing to see a film that centers platonic love so powerfully.
Reclaiming the Trauma Narrative
Victor’s decision not to show the assault on screen is not just tasteful—it’s revolutionary. The film steps away from the voyeurism that has plagued many post-#MeToo narratives. Instead, it focuses on how Agnes processes what happened, and how it shadows her experiences with institutions, intimacy, and even humor.
A flashback sequence titled “The Year with the Bad Thing” revisits Agnes as a graduate student working under charismatic professor Preston Decker (Louis Cancelmi). Their dynamic is unnerving from the beginning, marked by compliments and blurred boundaries. But Victor handles this relationship with restraint and clarity. The emotional aftermath—how Agnes chooses to remember, report, and respond—is where the film finds its soul.
Humor as a Coping Mechanism
One of the most surprising elements of Sorry Baby is its humor. Victor’s screenplay is filled with wry, sharply observed comedy. Whether Agnes is grappling with callous school administrators or awkwardly flirting with a neighbor over lighter fluid, the film allows her to maintain her voice and her perspective.
Victor doesn’t make light of serious issues, but she understands that humor can be a form of resistance—and survival. Even in the most heartbreaking moments, Sorry Baby finds ways to laugh at the absurdity of the world, and at Agnes’ own attempts to navigate it with dignity and grace.
Lucas Hedges Brings Gentle Support
As Gavin, Agnes’ awkward but kind neighbor, Lucas Hedges delivers a characteristically understated performance. He represents a different kind of male presence: not a savior, not a predator, but simply someone trying to be decent. Their interactions are funny, clumsy, and touching. Gavin doesn’t try to fix Agnes. He just listens. Sometimes that’s enough.
Their relationship is delicately drawn, built on shared silences and quiet moments. In a world that often demands women "move on" from trauma, Gavin’s gentle patience offers a refreshing counterpoint.
Visual Simplicity with Emotional Depth
The cinematography by Mia Cioffi Henry is subtle and spare, capturing the bleak beauty of a Massachusetts winter with minimal flair. While not visually showy, the film’s framing—especially around doorways and windows—suggests Agnes’ feelings of entrapment and transition. She’s often shown on the threshold, physically and emotionally, neither here nor there.
Scenes play out with stillness and quiet, reinforcing the internal nature of Agnes’ journey. The editing by Alex O’Flinn and Randi Atkins complements this tone, with cuts that feel deliberate, sometimes jarring, and always emotionally precise.
A Film of Small Moments, Big Impact
What makes Sorry, Baby linger long after the credits roll is how gently it honors the mundane. The film is filled with small but resonant beats: Agnes cradling a kitten she finds on the street, asking to see her lover’s limp penis with clinical fascination, burning old drafts of her thesis that once brought her pride. These moments aren’t just quirky—they speak volumes about how we rebuild after being broken.
Victor’s writing is full of grace notes that capture the difficulty of speaking about pain, the betrayal of memory, and the frustration of feeling stuck in a life that used to be full of promise. There’s no big catharsis, no sweeping resolution. Just survival, one step at a time.
Final Verdict – A Remarkable, Singular Debut
Sorry, Baby is a triumph of tone, empathy, and craft. Eva Victor emerges as a major new voice in American independent cinema—a filmmaker who understands that the aftermath of trauma is just as worthy of exploration as the trauma itself. With a performance that is as emotionally raw as it is darkly funny, Victor carries this film with confidence and insight.
This is not a movie about victimhood—it’s about persistence, the mundane nature of recovery, and the people who make life livable even when you feel broken. It’s messy, unpredictable, painful, and hilarious—just like life.
Rating: ★★★★★ (5/5)