Written by Andreas Babiolakis

Warning: This review contains triggering subject matter, including discussions of sexual violence and rape. Reader discretion is strongly advised.

Sometimes, one can get caught up in the hustle and bustle of life. Yes, even a film critic who is meant to be a depicter of contemporary greatness, a suggester of flicks to avoid, and an overall connoisseur of all things filmic. With that in mind, it may feel a bit strange for me to cover a film that is half a year old (almost an entire year when you factor in its Sundance Film Festival appearance), but great art does not get defined by the futility of the human formed construct of time; it exists unrestrained. I did not just watch this film for the first time. I was blessed to have seen Sorry, Baby when it first came out, and have even met Eva Victor: a promising new director, and an even lovelier person. It was instantly a highlight of 2025 for me, and I was overwhelmed by how moving and powerful this first film was. So, why didn't I hop on the opportunity to review it right away (which is my typical course of action whenever I watch any films)?

I recall needing time to process a film like Sorry, Baby: an upfront, difficult depiction of sexual assault. As the film dives head first into the self loathing and grief that follows the act of rape, I found this passion project so much to muster. Being able to talk with Victor, I saw someone who was bright-eyed, grateful, and so real. They started off as an actor in Billions (fans of the series showed up to the screening of Sorry, Baby I was at, and Victor was thrilled to meet with them as well) and learned from Jane Schoenbrun during the production of last year's queer horror film I Saw the TV Glow (another terrific film in its own right) before proceeding with what is likely 2025's best, concretely-independent film. Sorry, Baby stars Victor themself as Agnes: a literature professor who experiences the aforementioned nightmare. As Agnes struggles to keep going, her peers, institution, and reality move along as if nothing has happened. How could the world keep turning after such a horror?

Eva Victor is sensational in three different positions — as director, writer, and actor — with the magnificent *Sorry, Baby*.

Agnes finds catharsis in a stray cat that she takes in, but she finds it impossible to protect the kitten from the horrors of the world. In fact, Agnes finds a baby towards the end of the film and apologizes to it (hence the title): Agnes expresses regret that such a beautiful and innocent being can be brought against their will into a reality where such monstrosities can take place; where purity can be killed. Maybe she learns this lesson from trying to take care of the kitten: that horrors happening to you or to a loved one are usually unpreventable. What can be prevented, however, is choosing to be evil towards someone else. Victor never gives the rapist in the film the opportunity for his crime to be seen; this act happens behind closed doors. What we do see is the aftermath: the cycling trauma and depression that the perpetrator never has to feel. How could we live in a world where this happens; where this keeps happening; where nothing is stopping it from happening; which doesn't stop when it does happen?

Part of me felt guilty trying to describe such a film right away with an instant review. I needed time to marinate on what this motion picture did for me, with Victor's expressively stark direction, writing, and acting. I needed to process the bleak comedy that carries Sorry, Baby along, since the absurdity of such a cruel world is one that baffles us enough to warrant an occasional laugh, sigh, or gasp. I needed to digest how deceptively small scaled this film is while boasting multitudes of honesty and anguish. I knew how I felt about Sorry, Baby right away, but I wasn't sure how to best go about such a personal film of this nature, especially when I saw this very person mere inches away from me and saw them shine; to reflect so quickly on this filmic act of devotion and confrontation was to accept, like Agnes does, that awful things happen to good people (and, in that same breath, good things happen to awful people).

*Sorry, Baby* is a hilarious yet devastating film that confronts trauma with a vulnerable openness.

In the way that Agnes takes in the kitten, Schoenbrun held Victor under their wing. Filmmaker Barry Jenkins (Moonlight, If Beale Street Could Talk) and his frequent producer, Adele Romanski, helped pick up Sorry, Baby so that this film could see the light of day; the film does feel Jenkins-esque at times, particularly in its ability to extrapolate volumes of pent-up emotions out of deep silences and empty spaces. A number of major actors, from Naomi Ackie and Lucas Hedges to John Carroll Lynch, jumped on board to see this project through. Much happened to elevate Sorry, Baby, but all of this wouldn't matter if Victor didn't know what they were doing. With a sterling debut statement, it's clear that Victor was at least made to make this film, but I'd like to think that they were meant to make motion pictures altogether.

Maybe waiting so long to review Sorry, Baby was a blessing. I have noticed a duality between the film and who made it. As Agnes grasps for purpose, comfort, and hope throughout this realistically dismal film, Victor has soared as a newcomer to watch in a year full of some heavy hitting triumphs; Sorry, Baby still stands tall above most. Victor has become a sensation, which brings a tear to my eye. Agnes remains within Victor's creation, but that does not mean that art can always separate pain from the artist. In a way, Sorry, Baby acts as a jar that bottles up a portion of a person, representing the permanence of trauma. When a person goes through the worst moments of their life, they are forever changed. That is inevitable. It's one thing to live with grief, but it's another to be bogged down by it.

Uplifting one's self isn't so simple, as anyone can tell you. With Sorry, Baby, Victor addresses themself: we are more than these traumas. They are very much a part of us, and they cannot simply be downplayed, but there is more to us than how others' awful actions try to define us. Months after its release, I'm still not sure if I have best represented Sorry, Baby, but I do know that Eva Victor's rise to prominence and stardom has confirmed her place in the film industry and as a sparkling soul more than any review of mine ever could. Seeing as we are nearing the end of 2025, I did want to at least sing praise for Sorry, Baby; it's never too late to honour distinction.

Andreas Babiolakis has a Masters degree in Film and Photography Preservation and Collections Management from Ryerson University, as well as a Bachelors degree in Cinema Studies from York University. His favourite times of year are the Criterion Collection flash sales and the annual Toronto International Film Festival.