There is something especially individual about the lead characterisation here, and even though Eve Victor delivers strongly, I just didn’t really engage with it. We conclude fairly swiftly that her “Agnes” has suffered some trauma in her life and that now, in her late twenties, she has taken up a professorial job in a small rural community where she seems content to live en seul. Except, that is, until her friend “Lydia” (Naomie Ackie) comes to visit. She and her new girlfriend are expecting a baby and though joyous of the news, it seems to awaken in “Agnes” an appreciation of a hitherto subdued sense of loneliness. During this visit, and thereafter, the plot dances between timelines as we learn more about both women, particularly “Agnes” and along the way are put through quite an emotional wringer. There is a degree of humour here, but it’s not the giggle sort - more along the observational, story of life, line that is often quite relatable but frequently swamped in a surfeit of dialogue. It also strays into the melodramatic one too often, too - not least as it descends a little into a well of self-pity that isn’t really supported by any depth of likeable characterisation. Ultimately, I think that was probably my issue with “Agnes” here. I just couldn’t really empathise with her, despite the heinous nature of the incident, and though entirely justifiable, I found her just a little too self-centred. Sorry, baby, but I just felt fairly underwhelmed and uncomfortably disconnected all the way through.

For a first feature film, Sorry, Baby is truly impressive. Eva Victor takes on the triple threat of writing, directing, and starring, and she pulls it off with a creative approach that actually works. This is a story about recovery from trauma, but Victor resists the conventional playbook. Instead of solemnity or melodrama, she gives us something lighter, wry, even funny, without ever minimizing what her character Agnes has endured. The film follows Agnes, a reclusive college literature professor, as she navigates life after something terrible has happened. Victor doesn't make trauma the spectacle; she makes the aftermath the subject, the slow, awkward process of trying to keep going when everyone around you has already moved on. There's a timeless quality to this film: you can't quite place when it's set, no cell phones, muted tones—that keeps it from feeling like a topical issue film and more like a study in human resilience. Eva Victor and Naomi Ackie both did a great job. Victor brings a specificity to Agnes that avoids cliché, while Ackie, as her friend Lydie who's moved on to New York, grounds the film in the reality that life doesn't pause for your pain. Their dynamic feels real, complicated, and honest. Victor announces herself here as a formidable talent, someone who understands that you can take difficult material seriously without being heavy-handed, that recovery isn't a straight line, and that sometimes a light touch is exactly what trauma requires. This is a strong, assured debut.