It’s the aftermath which interests Victor, who keeps us guessing about Agnes’ state of mind. She has a chronically wary look in the eye, as if she’s permanently poised between total scepticism and an irresistible urge to laugh. But it gradually becomes clear to us is that the rape has changed her life and that her residual anger and frustration are coloured by confusion and wonder. She still can’t believe that she could have trusted someone who turned out to be so despicable.
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These reflections are leavened by adroitly placed touches of the ridiculous. The college’s bureaucracy is gleefully sent up. So, too, is Agnes’ obsessively jealous fellow teacher, Natasha. Canadian actress Kelly McCormack seizes the role with such wild-eyed wackiness that you can’t take your eyes off her. On a contrasting note, Agnes’ gift for the deadpan is more subtle – seen at its best when she adopts a stray kitten, whom she talks to as if it were another adult. Coming across it, lost and mewing, in the street, she goes so far as to ask for its consent before picking it up.
She’s a genuine eccentric in a genuinely eccentric film and it took me a while to adapt to its oddness but once you get its measure – and Victor’s – it leaves you with a lot to think about and appreciate.
Sorry, Baby is in cinemas from today