This article contains discussions of suicidal ideation.
As someone who devolved into actual weeping when the credits rolled for Celine Song’s directorial debut, “Past Lives,” I was excited to see the trailer for another directorial debut produced by A24: “Sorry, Baby” by Eva Victor. I went to the theater a fair amount this summer, so I was introduced to “Sorry, Baby” with a vague indie heartwarmer trailer that left me suspicious but curious. The trailer gave very little away, and I could ascertain almost nothing about the plot, conflicts or characters of the film. After reading the synopsis, my friend Emily questioned if we should go see this movie because it “looks sort of dumb.” Here is what the movie is about, according to AMC Theatres: “Something bad happened to Agnes. But life goes on … for everyone around her, at least.” What are you talking about, AMC? Why are we playing these games?
Nevertheless, we decided to go see the movie. And when we walked out, like the little performative Letterboxd gremlins that we are, my friends and I all rated the movie, then laughed as we recounted moments from the film on the way home. For the sake of journalistic integrity, here are our respective reviews:
Me (5 stars): I’ve never watched a movie like that
Emily (4 stars): this made me laugh so hard i began to cry. and also wow. wowie
Matt (5 stars): why was practically nobody else in the theatre laughing at the jokes in this movie 🙁
As you can tell, oh boy, did we like that movie. Like “Past Lives,” its style was focused and affectionate, presenting each of its characters with patience and giving you a chance to see them from afar before moving in closer. No matter the emotional distance the movie keeps from its subjects, however, Eva Victor’s vision of the characters and the settings they enter and exit felt clear and studied. The same calm, affectionate outlook portrays them and their decisions as friendships wax and wane, and people fall in love, move or finish graduate school. This lens also captures Agnes as she recovers from the bad thing that happens to her, which, in the interest of not detracting from the complexity with which the film portrays this event, I’m choosing not to explain.
What I can say is that despite being centered mainly around the life of an English graduate student (and later, a professor), the movie is anything but pretentious. While the dialogue and scenery of the movie indicate Victor’s familiarity with literature, the film never gets lost in its own intentions, instead letting the slow, disjointed events of the movie breathe and give off their own impressions without unnecessary commentary. In addition to the movie having so many comedic moments, it simultaneously lets the viewer sit with the disorienting experience of trauma and how we change in response to it. One of the most isolating aspects of a traumatic event is that no one can understand how uniquely terrible and stifling it was for you, but “Sorry, Baby” forgoes the idea that living after the event has to be a great battle.
While Agnes undoubtedly struggles with her experience and how she feels about it, the movie never makes the audience fear for her life. While the movie glances over mentions of Agnes’s suicidality after the event, it doesn’t dive into emotional moments of deep depression or terror. Instead, the film designates quiet scenes about her friend being there or conversing with a sandwich shop owner as the important moments that the film is about. And as anyone whose friends or themselves have struggled with thoughts of suicide will understand, this decision to show from the beginning that Agnes is still there, still alive and learning how to be alive after such a difficult period is a profound kindness and comfort.
It takes restraint and skill to look at a traumatic experience without a sense of urgency, without a timeline for how quickly Agnes should recover and what signposts we should look for to understand that she has moved past the event. These are natural things to wonder about, especially for the person who has undergone such severe trauma. But “Sorry, Baby,” with its focused design and many surprises, asks if those questions are really worth forcing yourself to wonder about. And, as someone who loves to worry, I felt delighted and reassured by the strong sense the movie gave me that, seemingly against all odds, we begin to understand the pain we have experienced, and life opens up as easily and naturally as anything when you stop trying so hard to force it to.
