A movie where nothing really happens is always my favorite kind. The mundanity and slow movement of life within these films bring forth a wellspring of emotion, a kind of vulnerability that only comes from sitting with a thing, with a character, with a life.
Such is the nature of my favorite film of 2025, “Sorry, Baby.” “Sorry, Baby” follows Agnes, played by Eva Victor. Agnes is a young woman who feels stuck — her best friend has moved to New York and is expecting a baby, while she is a professor at their shared alma mater. A few years ago, in this same place, “a bad thing” happened to Agnes, and she hasn’t been quite the same since. “Sorry, Baby” is a story about trauma, friendship and what it means to find oneself in the midst of all of it.
The film elegantly balances its heavy subject matter with laughter and love. At the center of the film stands Agnes, who is not only dealing with what happened to her, but is also feeling increasingly isolated after her best friend moved away and started her own family. “The bad thing” is a scaffold around which much of this film is built, but it does not define Agnes — not even close. In fact, while “the bad thing” is mentioned early in the film, it is not made entirely clear until over halfway through the runtime.
The film alternates between two timelines — Agnes’ time in grad school, in which “the bad thing” happened, and her present. These alternating timelines allow the viewer to begin to fully understand Agnes, as they see not merely how she changed after “the bad thing” but also how she has evolved by just continuing to grow up. Additionally, these timelines depict the evolving nature of Agnes’ relationship with Lydie, her best friend, played by Naomi Ackie. Lydie and Agnes meet in grad school and eventually become roommates, their friendship built on deep care, support, love and understanding. Some of the present timeline of the film includes Lydie’s visit to their former home, where Agnes still lives, further demonstrating her ability to move on while Agnes cannot, but also her refusal to leave Agnes behind.
Much of the film is merely Agnes going about her life between these two timelines — she never even leaves the small New England town where she attended school and now teaches. The film is then made beautiful by the authenticity and vulnerability of its core actresses, the brilliance of the screenplay, one very cute cat and an incredibly important sandwich.
“Sorry, Baby” grows stronger in its slowness and its tenderness. When “the bad thing” is finally revealed — spoilers ahead — as sexual assault from Agnes’ thesis adviser, it is not explicitly shown. Rather, Agnes enters her thesis advisers’ house, and the exterior is shown as the day passes into night, and eventually Agnes bursts from the house. The film doesn’t engage in any kind of sensationalism. Instead, it engages with Agnes, with her explicit experience and emotional response, and with the people around her she leans on for support.
However, some of the greatest forms of support Agnes encounters come from a cat and a stranger. Agnes’ cat, which she adopts as a stray in grad school, becomes her steadfast companion, appearing with her in both timelines. She is often seen cradling it, a fellow lost soul much like her own. The stranger, a kindly sandwich owner, encounters Agnes when she pulls onto the side of the road in the midst of a panic attack. The man offers her a sandwich, a listening ear, and in response to her story, replies, “It’s a lot of time, but it’s not that much time too.” These simple words and the gentle kindness of this stranger mark a pivotal moment in the film and Agnes’ story. She accepts that she is both moving on and stuck in time, carrying the grief and pain of what happened to her and continuing to make her own way in the world. The tender nature of the film also supports this idea, as its slow progression through Agnes’ life allows the viewer themselves to come to this conclusion, to be themselves located in both the processing and the moving on.
The film concludes with this message, too, as Agnes speaks to Lydie’s baby, telling her that she can come to her with anything, that bad things may happen, but Agnes will always be there. Agnes offers the baby the same kind of support that Lydie and others have offered her. She doesn’t shy away from the bad in the world — she knows it’s there, but she offers a safe space, a buoying support of love and care.
The slowness of the film to this point, its gentleness with its characters and its message allows this moment to be more impactful — because so little happens, emotion and the characters themselves mean everything. In this scene, Agnes and the baby are all there is, as the film ends with a warm embrace, not a denial of the horrors of the world, but a peaceful moment of tenderness, of slow moving, of a kind reality of life.
Lauren is a senior studying English literature, communications and film. You can connect with her at [email protected].