Eva Victor’s Sundance-Winning Debut Explores Trauma with Heart, Humor, and Depth

Sorry, Baby, winner of the Waldo Salt Screenwriting Award at Sundance, is an impressive debut from writer-director Eva Victor. The film offers a nuanced exploration of trauma and features a character-driven narrative that captivates with deep emotional clarity. At its center is Agnes (played by Victor), a graduate student-turned-professor whose life is irrevocably changed by a traumatic event. The brilliance of Sorry, Baby lies in its refusal to reduce Agnes to merely the sum of her pain. Instead, the film unfolds the complexity of her journey, highlighting her ongoing attempts to heal with a delicate blend of humor, warmth, and subtle anguish.

Victor plays Agnes with a vulnerability that never feels like a performance but a lived experience. Her portrayal is immersive, capturing the tender moments of a woman who’s still in the process of putting herself back together, while also confronting the raw edges of her trauma. She embodies both strength and fragility, particularly in a standout scene where Agnes recounts her assault to her best friend, Lydie, played with compassion by Naomi Ackie. The intensity of this scene is palpable. We’re not given any graphic depictions of the event, but you can feel the weight it carries. Agnes’s face is a complex study of shock and disbelief as she shares an experience that has left her feeling fragmented and detached.

The film’s structure goes between the present and a significant “year with the bad thing,” providing insight into Agnes’ journey. However, it’s the underlying humor - often highlighted in her playful banter with Lydie - that makes this film profoundly affecting. The chemistry between the two characters feels entirely authentic. Their conversations, which range from gossip about mutual friends to Lydie’s concerns about impending motherhood, create a warm, familiar cocoon that invites us into Agnes’ world.

What makes Sorry, Baby so uniquely impactful is its unflinching honesty in portraying the aftermath of trauma. The film illustrates that an assault doesn’t simply occur and then disappear; rather, it lingers and silently transforms how a person engages with the world. Agnes’ paranoia - exemplified by her need to cover the windows for privacy and her refusal to wear the shoes she had on that night - captures the subtle yet all-consuming ripple effects of living with fear.

The dismissive reactions to Agnes’ assault, particularly from authority figures, situate the film within a wider context of societal failures. It also ridicules the entrenched ignorance that frequently surrounds women’s experiences. The humor in these moments doesn’t diminish the pain; rather, it emphasizes the absurdity and frustration of a system that refuses to take women seriously, even when they’re suffering.

Sorry, Baby is more than just a film about surviving a traumatic event. It explores resilience, how we rebuild ourselves piece by piece, and how life continues despite the challenges that threaten to hold us back. Agnes isn’t defined by the assault that shaped her life, but it’s clear that it has profoundly influenced who she becomes. As she steps into her new role as a professor and returns to graduate school, we witness the layers of her growth. She confronts her past, not by denying it, but by choosing to live boldly and unflinchingly despite it.

Victor’s script masterfully balances humor and tragedy, creating a unique brilliance that feels entirely authentic. The dialogue flows naturally, and even during the darker moments, it subtly reminds us of the various ways people cope. This film invites us into the inner world of a woman healing in her own way and at her own pace, making the journey truly worthwhile. It offers a deeply moving portrayal that’s sometimes funny but always profoundly tender, exploring the quiet strength that comes with moving forward.