‘Sorry, Baby’ Review: Abuse and the Silence That Follows

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In a world where stories about sexual violence in films are usually presented as black-and-white narratives involving victims and perpetrators, I find myself deeply moved by Eva Victor’s Sorry, Baby, produced by the remarkable Barry Jenkins. This film transcends the simplicity of such dichotomies, delving into the complex, often overlooked aspects of life – the lingering aftermaths, the lost moments, and the unspoken truths that subtly shape every encounter.

This isn’t merely a film about the repercussions of sexual assault, but also about the enduring effects of friendship, ambition, and the insidious, institutional violence that often fails women in their most fragile times. It sheds light on the gray areas, reminding us that life is seldom as straightforward as the stories we see on screen.

Victor, through his role as writer, director, and actress portraying Agnes, constructs a movie that is raw emotionally and structurally unique. The narrative unfolds in a sequence of episodes titled “The Year with the Baby,” “The Year with the Bad Incident,” and “The Year with the Good Sandwich,” among others. In Sorry, Baby, trauma is depicted as non-chronological, advancing sporadically and then retreating. Agnes isn’t simply dealing with an assault; she is figuring out how to cope, experimenting with ways to progress while the world carries on around her, unaware.

The Fragmented Language of Memory

In this film, I find that the fragmented narrative isn’t merely a stylistic decision; it mirrors the disjointed nature of trauma on time. As a scholar, I appear to be in control, admired, and poised. However, the lengthy, silent scenes showing me behind the wheel or alone at home reveal a hidden truth – one where I’m still bound by the past, trapped within the very landscape of my own tragedy. Rooms, corridors, the office where it all occurred – these places transform into both prisons and battlegrounds for me.

Victor’s sound design stands out notably. As Agnes navigates through her journey, the revving engine and radio static vary, imitating how memories can be unexpectedly vivid or distant. The movie avoids graphic depiction of the traumatic incident and instead employs changes in lighting, hue, and tempo to convey its influence. This approach ties the audience closely to Agnes’ emotional journey, preventing the event from becoming sensationalized and focusing more on her experience instead.

This movie delves into how power dynamics operate within institutions, not just focusing on the act of assault itself, but also on how it’s handled afterwards. It reveals the intricacies of reporting a sexual assault in a workplace, showing the subtle dismissals, prolonged waits, mountains of paperwork, and the disheartening reality that even when guilt is proven, justice often remains elusive. The choice made by Agnes to not report to the police is a complex decision that resonates deeply without needing explicit explanation.

Comedy as a Defense Mechanism

Agnes has a witty and humorous personality. She often uses humor as a coping mechanism, making light of existential topics like suicide and the absurdity of life. In movies, it’s not common to find characters who are neither simple symbols of resilience nor completely shattered, but rather complex individuals who move between states of strength and vulnerability.

Lucas Hedges portrays Gavin, a neighbor and potential love interest, with a subtle acting style that avoids being either threatening or overly supportive. He represents many men in these types of stories, existing in a gray area between help and harm, unaware of the burden Agnes carries. Naomi Ackie’s character, Lydie, stands out as the emotional balance to Agnes’ solitude. Their friendship is complex, filled with subtle jabs, deep concern, and hidden resentments, making it feel authentic like long-lasting friendships often do. Lydie is pregnant, entering a new phase of life, while Agnes remains stagnant. The movie doesn’t sugarcoat the pain of this growing distance between them.

A particularly moving scene in “Sorry, Baby” occurs when Agnes quietly admits to herself, “I don’t want him to perish.” The movie subtly conveys this private confession, but its later revelation that her reason is “he has a child” resonates powerfully. This moment serves as a reminder in many narratives that the world isn’t always divided into good and evil, and that violence can lead to unforeseen aftermaths.

Sexuality, Motherhood, and the Body After Trauma

Among the many compelling aspects of “Sorry, Baby” lies its profound examination into the aftermath of trauma, particularly focusing on the complex interplay between pain, desire, pleasure, and the evolving bond between safety and sexuality. As Agnes embarks on her journey towards self-discovery, the movie delicately challenges our understanding of intimacy post-violence. The scene where Agnes adopts a kitten – a common cinematic metaphor for healing – is both ironic and heartfelt, symbolizing tender care without resorting to excessive sentimentality.

In this movie, the balance between motherhood and past traumas plays a significant role. As Lydie readies herself for her child’s birth, Agnes grapples with understanding her dual roles as guardian and survivor. During one scene, Agnes is questioned about her feelings towards the baby, which is an unusual moment in depictions of new life. However, her pause before responding carries a powerful message that often goes unspoken. Instead of wrapping up its characters in tidy stories of healing or resolution, the film provides them room to remain complex and unresolved.

A Film That Asks, Not Answers

One notable aspect of Sorry, Baby lies in its resistance to conforming to typical patterns. Unlike other works that provide easy emotional release or wallow in sadness, it explores the unique experience of time passing differently for survivors compared to others who continue with their lives.

In her initial film, Victor demonstrates an exceptional ability to exercise self-control and empathy as a director. Instead of spoon-feeding viewers with explanations, she allows them to grapple with the complexity of Agnes’s story. The short scenes serve more as emotional milestones than plot advancements, providing an authentic portrayal of the healing process that resonates deeply.

In today’s world where discussions on sexual violence frequently focus on court cases and public attention, “Sorry, Baby” stands as a form of rebellion – a narrative that explores the in-between instances, delving into the complexities of existence beyond what happened, rather than being overshadowed by it. This film is more than just a passing glance; it lingers not for shock or sensationalism, but because it acknowledges and portrays the subtle, enduring impact of trauma on an individual’s life.

Essentially, this film revolves around the theme of endurance – not in the heroic or victorious sense, but in the ordinary day-to-day struggle. It’s about juggling tasks like responding to emails, chatting idly, and enjoying a decent meal, all while dealing with the shattering pieces of your life. The movie, Sorry, Baby, captures this reality perfectly – it acknowledges that life continues even when not everyone moves at the same pace. Sorry, Baby was showcased at the 2025 Sundance Film Festival. For more details, check it out here.

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2025-02-02 07:32