There are some subjects so profoundly difficult to discuss that the idea of making a film about them, especially a comedy, is beyond unfathomable. Yet, nothing is truly impossible when we find a perfect blend of good intentions and strong storytelling skills, which is where we can situate ourselves with Sorry, Baby, a film that handles a timely topic in a way that is daring, provocative and undeniably moving. The directorial debut of Eva Victor (who also writes the film and stars in the central role, an impressive combination for someone who has not had much of a cinematic presence before this), the film follows Agnes, a young woman who is on the precipice of landing her dream job, and seems to be living a relatively charmed life – until a misguided moment of trust with her mentor leads to her becoming the victim of sexual assault. This event begins to erode her usually happy-go-lucky approach to living life, leading her down a path in which she starts to feel insecure and vulnerable in ways that she never imagined, and ultimately causes her to realise that there is much more to navigating trauma than she ever imagined. A film that walks a narrow tonal tightrope in a way that is daring, unsettling and always willing to have the difficult conversations, Sorry, Baby is an audacious debut for a young filmmaker who may not have fully developed her voice just yet, but more than compensates through pure audacity and the willingness to have the difficult conversations. It carries itself with a fervent commitment to the challenges faced by far too many people who are taken advantage of due to imbalances of power and the belief that someone can be coerced into compromising situations. It’s a challenging film that never resorts to easy answers, but instead forces the viewer to reckon with their own understanding of social issues that are often kept out of sight in more comedic works. It proves that a difficult subject can be the source of some insightful commentary that blends humour and pathos, particularly when approached correctly, and immediately establishes Victor as a unique voice and someone whose career we’ll be watching with great curiosity going forward.

There’s a certain complexity that comes with making a film like Sorry, Baby, and we find that Victor builds the entire narrative around seeing whether or not it was actually possible to make a film about sexual assault that didn’t go for the usual approach and instead focused on other aspects. Unfortunately, it’s a subject that tends to be built around the event itself, primarily in cases where they want to shock the viewer into the reality faced by many people. Victor is not interested in going into details on the act itself, with their approach being around the aftermath – and it is in this that we find not only the most interesting commentary, but also the potential to bring some levity into the production, which was a daring way to look at this subject. However, at its core, this film is built around examining how a single moment – even just a couple of seconds – can entirely change the trajectory of someone’s life. We are introduced to Agnes, someone who seems to be on the right track, based on her goals – she’s on her way to getting the job she has been working towards, has a good relationship with her friends and seems relatively secure in her identity. This all changes in the blink of an eye, and we see how the cruel, inappropriate actions of someone she trusted lead her to question everything. It’s a harrowing subject, and one that Victor clearly felt was worth telling. They have spoken about how it was influenced by experiences drawn from their own life, and while it never purports to be definitively autobiographical, it has an honesty that can only come from a place of uncomfortable sincerity. Rather than dwelling on the internal quandaries faced by Agnes in the aftermath of the assault, the film looks at her interactions with various people, ranging from the best friend who was with her at every moment she needed some support, but now has had to follow her own path (which evokes complex conversations on the nature of friendship), to her romantic pursuits that are as much about satisfying her cravings as it is allowing herself to recover from a traumatic incident, to the random strangers that she encounters, each one offering her valuable insights that aid in the healing process. It’s a very layered film when it comes to thematic content, and Victor works laboriously to underline the nuances that constitute this already very difficult subject matter.

Many qualities bind Sorry, Baby together and make it so incredibly moving, with one of them being the performances. Victor, in addition to being a first-time writer and director, had not done much acting before this (they had bit parts on a couple of projects, but nothing of consequence), so the decision for them to take on the lead role, rather than merely working behind the camera, was very audacious. They’re ultimately an unknown entity, and there was an inherent risk that came with being front-and-centre for the entire film. Mercifully, this is a risk that pays off splendidly, since the performance is absolutely stellar, and it becomes an example of a relatively unknown actor immediately skyrocketing into the zeitgeist based solely on the strength of one performance. Needless to say, they anchor the film brilliantly, finding the right balance between emotions and always focusing on the smallest details and how they can accumulate into something much more meaningful in the process. They’re supported by a fantastic ensemble, which consists of the always lovely Naomi Ackie (who is probably the best performance in the film), oscillating comedy and drama superbly well and being the emotional anchor of the film, along with a rare sighting of the wonderful Lucas Hedges, who acts far less frequently than we would hope, and smaller parts by the likes of Louis Cancelmi (as the catalyst for the central conflict in the film), Kelly McCormack, E.R. Fightmaster and John Carroll Lynch, the latter in particular proving that all an actor needs to leave in indelible impression are a couple of minutes, a good script and the willingness to make the most of every second he is on screen, with his single scene being perhaps the most poignant on the entire film, both for what it represents and how he plays the part. It’s a superb ensemble, and one that clearly is operating with such extraordinary affection for the material, which shows in absolutely every moment the actors are on screen together.

Undoubtedly, Sorry, Baby had a tall order ahead of it – how does one make a film about sexual assault in which humour can be meaningfully and consistently introduced, but without losing the impact or making light of something that is certainly not fodder for comedy. The answer is that you simply take the risk and ensure that every decision revolves around getting to a particular narrative point, which is, in this case, an in-depth exploration of trauma. Something that the media often gets wrong about post-traumatic stress disorder is that it isn’t purely panic attacks and depression – there are moments of joy and levity to be found throughout, since most people manage to move on with their lives, the trauma simply becoming yet another part of it. Victor is not interested in telling a story about a woman who is the victim of assault, and as a result, allows herself to be defined by the despicable actions of someone wanting to assert their power. Instead, it revolves around someone who does her best to move on with her life, which she finds to be an enormously intimidating challenge, since returning to normality is very rarely (if ever) entirely possible. This is where the film plumbs the emotional depths of a subject that we should never view as appropriate for mindless humour – everything Victor does here is thoughtful and meaningful, their approach being to find the balance between the tones, which gradually shift and switch throughout, indicating deeper ideas that define what is normally perceived as an entirely sombre subject. The film never aims for the low-hanging fruit, and a lot of the humour is derived from the discomfort contained in these conversations – the candour of the protagonist is used as a powerful tool to highlight the absurdity of everyday life, and how even those who have the best intentions are sometimes ill-equipped to help someone through an enormous psychological struggle. It’s a masterclass in tone, with every moment being well-defined and contributing to the overarching sense of existential despair and darkly comedic charm that defines this otherwise very simple film.

It has often been said that when discussing even the most harrowing and difficult of subjects, simply starting the conversation with a single sentence is an act of bravery. The extent to which Sorry, Baby is based in Victor’s real life is not clear – they have noted that it is inspired by true events, but it never becomes an act of focusing on the details, and more the circumstances that occurred in the aftermath, which is a truly courageous approach on a psychological level, and an immense artistic achievement in itself. There is an honesty and integrity behind this film that becomes increasingly clearer as we venture further through it, a sense of deep-seated chaos that is consistently under the control of a director who takes a simple premise and couples it with their incredible audacity, developing a story that is complex, engaging and frequently very funny, even at its most simplistic. Victor is an astonishing talent, and I can’t wait to see what they do next – as a directorial debut, it is very straightforward and doesn’t have too much of a discernible directorial flourish (and some moments are evidently the product of someone still finding their footing as a filmmaker), but its honesty and genuine affection for its characters and the situations in which they consistently find themselves seeking some kind of meaning in a world that seems to be teetering dangerously on the edge of societal collapse. It’s a wonderfully offbeat, daring work that may not redefine the genre or say anything particularly profound, but is nonetheless a subtle, nuanced work that finds humour in impossible scenarios and proves to be as ambitious as it is truly and unimpeachably heartfelt, a combination that is worth acknowledging as the first sign of the birth of a truly great filmmaking career.