A Constant Visual Feast

This interview almost didn’t run. It barely even happened in the first place; in an embarrassing showcase of my lineage’s dumbest deficiencies, I managed to show up 30 minutes late for my allotted interview time slot, and had to wait about an hour for the next one. Apart from my tardiness, there was hardly a chance of my conversation with Eva Victor about their* debut feature, Sorry, Baby, not happening.

But I went in without a greenlight from one of my outlets, a rare occurrence, meaning that I practically never get my name on the schedule for a press tour if I don’t have a “yes” from one of my editors; if I watch a film and don’t write about it at the time of its release, I might still be able to write about it further down the line, but the same isn’t true for an interview. Besides: without an assignment, I risk wasting my own time as well as the talent’s, while potentially squeezing out someone who does have an assignment**. 

Happily, I managed to get the go-ahead from my editor at Time, who, like me, thinks Sorry, Baby is something special, and that Victor is, too; their Twitter comedy helped me stay sane during COVID, with one bit about how it’s a good thing that the USPS is going away tickling me in particular. 

Anyways. You can read our whole conversation over at Time.

*Victor uses she/they pronouns with a preference for “they,” though sprinkled here and there throughout the film’s press, you’ll find folks ignoring her preferences.
**This is highly unlikely; it’s more likely I’d be squeezing out someone with a blog, or someone who doesn’t even intend to run the interview, and yes, those people do exist, and I know this because they have squeezed me out of press schedules in the past. It’s a competitive racket, film criticism, but on a profoundly stupid level.