On a sunny Friday afternoon in the secluded garden of Chateau Marmont, Eva Victor, dressed in black, tells me how she accidentally stumbled into comedy. Her story begins at Northwestern University’s prestigious theater program, where she once dreamed of performing in Chekhov and Euripides plays. “No one would cast me in those,” says the 31-year-old writer, director, and actor, sipping Earl Grey tea with oat milk. “I kept trying to deliver serious monologues, and everyone would laugh.” She recalls this with a dry wit that perfectly illustrates the issue: Victor can’t help being funny.
This very “problem” makes her directorial debut, Sorry, Baby, so compelling—a film that effortlessly shifts between humor and heartbreak. The story follows Agnes, a graduate student turned professor (played by Victor), who must rebuild her life after a traumatic event referred to only as “The Bad Thing.” Previously known for viral comedy sketches and a role in Billions, Victor now adds “auteur” to her résumé with Sorry, Baby, produced by Oscar winner Barry Jenkins. After premiering at Sundance, the film was acquired by A24 for around $8 million and will hit theaters in June, co-starring Naomi Ackie and Lucas Hedges.
Defying labels is a recurring theme for Victor, who identifies as nonbinary and uses they/she pronouns interchangeably. When asked if they’d like both pronouns used in this profile, Victor’s olive-green eyes widen. “Are you allowed to do that?” she asks. “For me, nonbinary has always been about existing in the in-between. That’s what makes people uncomfortable—not being able to pin you down. But it’s a gift to realize you can be limitless.”
The same refusal to fit neatly into categories applies to Sorry, Baby. “Everyone wants a box, don’t they?” Victor laughs. “I get why genres exist, but this film moves between drama and comedy.” Just don’t call it a “traumedy.” “Send those critics to my office,” she jokes. “I’ll have a few words for them.”
Hedges, who plays Agnes’s kind but directionless neighbor Gavin, recognized the film’s uniqueness from the script alone. “It reminded me of things I love while feeling entirely original,” he says, comparing it only to Kenneth Lonergan’s work (Manchester by the Sea). “That’s the nature of Eva’s charm.”
At the heart of Sorry, Baby—and the source of much of its humor—is the friendship between Agnes and her best friend Lydie (Ackie), a Black lesbian Ted Hughes scholar who keeps Agnes grounded. “She’s like CPR for Agnes,” Ackie says.
“Their friendship lives in the laughter,” Victor explains, and Ackie agrees. “One of my favorite scenes is when we’re on the couch dissecting how men have sex,” the London-based actress says. “We laughed until we cried during takes.”
Lydie is inspired by one of Victor’s closest friends, whom they’ve known since their teenage years in San Francisco. “We went to theater camp and college together,” Victor says. “She’s the one who…” [The text cuts off here, but the meaning remains clear.]OPEN SEASON
Victor is refreshingly open about mental health. “Once, I heard someone say they didn’t experience anxiety or depression, and I thought, I don’t believe you,” they admit, dressed in a Miu Miu jacket, shirt, and skirt.
Literature also weaves through Sorry, Baby, with references to books like Lolita, To the Lighthouse, and Against Interpretation scattered like hidden gems. Victor paints such an authentic picture of New England grad school life that it’s surprising they never attended one. But their tastes aren’t purely academic—like any true millennial, they were hooked on The White Lotus Season 3. At one point, spotting a familiar face through the Chateau Marmont’s windows, Victor gasps: “Oh my God. It’s the queen… Leslie Bibb!”
An avid reader, Victor suggested we meet at a used bookstore in the San Fernando Valley. They told me about taking an online Yale course on postwar American literature during the pandemic (Housekeeping and Franny and Zooey were on the syllabus). It was during this time, while on break from Billions and living in Brooklyn, that Victor retreated to a Maine cabin in the dead of winter with their rescue cat, Clyde, to write Sorry, Baby. The isolation mirrored their mood. “The loneliness of that season just fit,” Victor says, acknowledging their depression at the time.
They’re blunt about mental health—and skeptical of those who claim immunity. “If someone truly doesn’t feel anxiety or depression, that must be incredibly lonely,” Victor muses. (When we order a crab-stuffed avocado dish labeled à la Bell Jar, Victor, a Sylvia Plath fan, scoffs: “So crass!”)
In Maine, the words flowed. “The script had been in my head so long that writing it felt like it was bursting out,” Victor says. Within a month of snowy walks, photography, and split pea soup, they had a draft, which they shared with Jenkins and his producing partners.
Jenkins recalls, “The script landed, and it was like, Boom, this is done. I never asked what kind of film Eva wanted to make—just said, We’re here to open doors.”
Their connection with Jenkins and Pastel, his production company, began years earlier on social media. After seeing Victor’s short videos, the Moonlight director followed them on Twitter. “One video—about a French widow who may or may not have killed her husband—stood out,” Jenkins says. “The angles, the performance—I thought, This person is a filmmaker. I messaged, ARE YOU BEING PAID FOR THESE??? with laughing emojis. That started everything.”
When it came time to find a director for Sorry, Baby, Jenkins’s faith in Victor never wavered.Here’s the rewritten text in fluent, natural English while preserving the original meaning:
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Finding Their Way
“If there’s one conversation that changed my life, it was when he told me, ‘You’re directing—you just don’t know it yet,’” Victor says.
A year before the film went into production, Pastel arranged a two-day test shoot with the film’s cinematographer, Mia Cioffi Henry, an NYU professor. Victor also shadowed Jane Schoenbrun during the filming of I Saw the TV Glow, which premiered at Sundance in 2024. Watching Schoenbrun work taught Victor more than just filmmaking—it was a revelation.
“It was me, Jane, and their assistant, who’s also nonbinary. The way they talked about their transness blew my mind. Like, Oh my God, there’s so much joy in this,” Victor recalls.
According to Hedges, Victor handled the set like a seasoned professional. “Eva said they were nervous, but to me, they seemed unusually calm—almost chill.” Still, impostor syndrome lingers, much like comedy does for Victor.
In Sorry, Baby, there’s a joke where Agnes is asked how her friends would describe her, and she replies, “Tall.” Victor hit five-eleven by eighth grade and was pressured into joining her middle school basketball team despite having no idea how to play.
“I was Googling basketball rules the night before, thinking, This makes no sense.”
Green Mind
Victor grew up middle-class in tech-heavy San Francisco, the only child of a mortgage broker (who pursued woodworking and photography) and an architect mother. She almost turned down Northwestern for financial reasons.
“There was a moment when I thought, I can’t go,” she says. “But my dad insisted, ‘You have to.’ He was right—though those loans are no joke.”
At Northwestern, Victor wasn’t ready to come out as queer. “I hooked up with girls in college, but it was always a secret. My school was very straight and very rich.” (Victor still keeps their current relationship status private.) Still, they don’t see being an outsider as entirely negative. “People who are unsure are probably more thoughtful,” Victor reflects.
Surprisingly, fashion has become a space where Victor feels at home. Born in Paris while her mother worked for Access Guides (“a long play for French citizenship,” Victor jokes), they recently attended Paris Fashion Week as a guest of Hermès.
“I’ve been to Paris many times, but never like a princess,” they say. “They treated me so well—dinners, clothes, the whole thing.” Staying at the Hôtel de Crillon, Victor indulged in daily room service. “It was like Eloise at the Plaza. Absolutely wild.”
Their love for fashion goes beyond dressing up. “I love how fashion plays with gender.” Alongside thrifted finds—like the patchwork cardigan they wore at our bookstore meeting and black Dickies at the Chateau—they’re drawn to androgynous designs from Acne Studios and Maison Margiela. But when feeling “super femme,” they’ll opt for a miniskirt or pink satin Sandy Liang ballet flats.
“I love that fashion lets you be low-key, alien, surprising, complicated. I’m in a place where I can explore that.”
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This version keeps the original meaning while improving flow, simplifying phrasing, and removing redundancies. Let me know if you’d like any further refinements!”I want to be where I can truly be myself. And I want to enjoy places that don’t always know how to see me for who I am.”
Styling credits:
Hair by Barb Thompson
Makeup by Courtney Hart
Tailoring by Irina Tshartaryan
Produced by Amelia Rose Fleetwood