Sorry, Baby

Shrewdly balancing humor and heartbreak, the indie drama Sorry, Baby sidesteps cliches with a perceptive exploration of familiar coming-of-age themes.

This witty and emotionally honest debut from director Eva Victor probes the insular nature of grief by tapping into hostilities and insecurities that feel universal yet are often difficult to express or articulate.

Victor plays Agnes, a literature professor at a New England institution whose sardonic dry wit tends to mask an internal awkwardness as she seems to experience triumphs and setbacks in equal measure.

Her story unfolds through nonlinear segments representing nonconsecutive years in her life, starting with a reunion with her closest friend, Lydie (Naomi Ackie), to reminisce about their younger days. That’s followed by a dinner with an ex-classmate (Kelly McCormack) where hints emerge about trauma from her past.

From there, we flash back to Agnes’ days as a graduate student under the tutelage of an advisor (Louis Cancelmi) with control issues and ulterior motives that ultimately leave Agnes emotionally scarred and reveal the depth of Lydie’s vital support.

Eventually she becomes paranoid and isolated, overcome with resentment and distrust during her quieter moments, often concealed for outsiders.

Yet there’s also a deeper resilience in seeking to chart her future. Moving forward, Agnes finds an opportunity for healing through her reluctant relationship with a neurotic neighbor (Lucas Hedges).

The film is quite a multihyphenate calling card for Victor (“Billions”), whose powerfully understated performance is matched by an evocative visual style that favors long takes and emphasizes facial expressions.

Victor’s intricately constructed screenplay probes Agnes’ vulnerable headspace as she becomes aloof, which makes it more difficult for us to sympathize with her plight.

Still, we’re able to share her sense of post-traumatic discomfort and fury in part because of the convincing and charming codependent rapport between Victor and Ackie (Blink Twice).

The nonlinear narrative approach feels somewhat manipulative by withholding contextual and chronological details. However, you can admire how Victor juggles tones and injects droll absurdity into dark scenarios in a way that feels almost disarming.

Audacious and deeply felt, Sorry, Baby avoids self-indulgent trappings or affectations as it probes relatable territory with authentic tenderness and sincerity.

Rated R, 103 minutes.