海角大神

I鈥檝e written in the past about my objections to the cavalier way in which violence is usually portrayed in movies. Not often are we shown the emotional and psychological consequences of violence.

I was reminded of this as I watched Eva Victor鈥檚 remarkable writing-directing debut feature, 鈥淪orry, Baby.鈥� It deals with the sexual assault of Agnes, played by Victor, a young English lit grad student in a leafy New England college town. The assault is never shown, only discussed.

鈥淪orry, Baby鈥� focuses instead on Agnes鈥檚 attempts at healing, spanning five years, and it does so in ways that feel utterly authentic. In a very real sense, the movie isn鈥檛 about the assault at all. It鈥檚 about how Agnes, in fits and starts, opens up a new life for herself. It鈥檚 about restoration, not victimization.

Divided into chapter headings like 鈥淭he Year of the Questions鈥� and 鈥淭he Year of the Bad Thing,鈥� the movie is structured non-chronologically. The back-and-forth rhythms reflect Agnes鈥檚 wayward emotional trajectory. There is nothing linear about her recuperation, no false sense of 鈥渃losure.鈥� This is why the movie rings so true.

When we first see Agnes, she is welcoming the wintertime visit of her best friend Lydie, beautifully played by Naomi Ackie. A fellow former grad student, Lydie, now pregnant, lives in New York with her wife. Despite the giggly easygoingness of their confab, it鈥檚 clear their revelry also carries a darker undertone, although we don鈥檛 yet know why. When a shy, smitten neighbor, Gavin (a terrific Lucas Hedges), stops by unexpectedly, Lydie teases Agnes about what鈥檚 going on between them. Boundlessly caring, she wants above all else for Agnes to be happy.

It鈥檚 what Agnes wants for herself, too. In the scenes before 鈥淭he Year of the Bad Thing,鈥� she comes across as sharp and convivial and a little goofy. In the wake of the assault, she gradually comprehends that mourning her old life will not take her to a better one. Her deep down spiritedness and humor become her way of coping with life鈥檚 indignities. Without being fully aware of it, she finds within herself the means to press on.

Rarely has a movie dramatized so convincingly the repercussions of trauma. In one scene, as if to shut out the world, Agnes gets up at night, in the isolated house she alone occupies, and papers over her big bedroom window with the printed pages of her college thesis. Her college鈥檚 HR department, represented by two women no less, shucks off responsibility for the assault. She adopts a stray cat, with whom she clearly identifies. During jury duty selection for an unrelated violent crime, Agnes matter-of-factly tells the judge it would be too upsetting to describe why she can鈥檛 serve.

But Victor is fully aware of the balm that can also arise in such moments. The most telling scene in the movie comes when Agnes, suddenly stricken with a panic attack while driving, pulls off the road and into the driveway of a sandwich shop. The gruff owner, Pete (a wonderful John Carroll Lynch), orders her to leave until he sees what鈥檚 going on. He consoles her, and they sit by the road and eat sandwiches together. She doesn鈥檛 spell anything out for him. She doesn鈥檛 need to. The humanity that shines forth in this sequence is beyond praise.

Victor is an actor (TV鈥檚 鈥淏illions鈥�) and the creator of satirical TikTok videos, but nothing could have prepared one for the range of feeling in this film. The extraordinary tact and compassion with which Victor dramatizes Agnes鈥檚 assault and its aftermath allows us to see this story for what it truly is 鈥� a diary of personal reclamation.

When Agnes, in the end, is holding Lydie鈥檚 baby girl in her arms, she speaks to her from a place of hard-won healing. She advises her to remember that, when she grows up, she can tell herself, 鈥淏ad stuff will happen, but I can still listen and not be scared and that鈥檚 good for something at least.鈥� Agnes, of course, is also speaking to herself.

Peter Rainer is the Monitor鈥檚 film critic. 鈥淪orry, Baby鈥� is rated R for sexual content and language.