We all face difficulties in life. They may not look the same as our peers’, but they’re still ours to wrestle with. Sometimes, hearing about the struggles of others leaves a heaviness in us too — because for a fleeting moment, we think: thank god that’s not mine to carry.
Sorry, Baby has been getting a lot of praise lately, and I can see why. At its core, the movie is simple: it follows an educated woman enduring a rough season, forced into a situation she never asked for, doing her best to navigate it. She survives with sharp, dark humor, the loyalty of a close friend, and, at times, unexpected kindness from strangers — strangers who end up being more helpful than they probably realize.
Eva Victor writes, directs, and stars as Agnes. Her performance is tortured yet believable, though I constantly felt the pull of wanting to know her more intimately. Instead, we meet her through the lens of trauma — an event that reshapes who she is and how she’s perceived. That disconnection made it harder for me to fully bond with Agnes, but maybe that’s also part of the film’s strength: her disassociation is built into the storytelling.
Some have compared Sorry, Baby to Fleabag, and I get it — though I wouldn’t go that far. Fleabag had more room to breathe, to build a layered character, and to slowly peel back her trauma. It was also, in my opinion, far funnier, even at its darkest.
Sorry, Baby lands a few laughs, but never feels like it’s going for them. Instead, it captures those moments in life where something so painful and awkward happens that you blurt out a joke to ease the tension. It’s not really funny — it just hurts. And yet, that awkwardness works, because this story isn’t meant to entertain in the traditional sense; it’s meant to show how raw and real such pain can be.
On the technical side, the cinematography is serviceable — nothing groundbreaking, but solid enough to support the story’s themes. That said, I still cannot understand who, in their right mind, thought it was a good idea to put a toilet in a first-floor bathroom with a two-way window. Easily one of the most illogical design choices I’ve ever seen on screen.
In the end, Sorry, Baby isn’t a movie that sweeps you off your feet but it sits with you, a little uncomfortably. It’s not perfect, and it won’t be everyone’s favorite, but it feels honest. If you have ever laughed through tears just to make the silence bearable, you will recognize something of yourself here. And maybe that’s why it works.
PS: I wish we saw more of Gavin! I really liked his presence and the scene in the bathroom was so raw and real and funny.
METTEL RAY 
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