Sorry, Baby | A Conversation with Cinematographer Mia Cioffi Henry

Sorry, Baby marks the feature film debut of Eva Victor, a writer and performer known for her work with Reductress and The New Yorker, among other outlets. While she’s built her career in front of the camera and behind the keyboard, her first foray into directing relied heavily on a strong partnership with cinematographer Mia Cioffi Henry. Together, they charted a course through changing seasons and periods of time, spanning five years of Agnes’ life in the film. Cioffi Henry brought a wealth of technical knowledge on lenses, lighting, and camera movement to the table, but the creative collaboration went deeper, examining the psychological elements of Agnes – shown through her hair, clothing, and even the colours that define each chapter of her journey. In this way, Cioffi Henry was instrumental in translating Victor’s vision into a visually compelling narrative. While the director and the film are not yet household names, Sorry, Baby holds the potential to resonate deeply with viewers and leave them feeling something they haven’t felt before.

Sorry, Baby is premiering at Sundance on January 27th, 2025

I caught up with Mia Cioffi Henry to discuss her journey, the relationship she formed with Eva, and how the pair were able to subtly, yet purposefully, move through time and space in Sorry, Baby.

Mia Cioffi Henry on Her Path from Acting to Cinematographer of Sorry, Baby

You’ve been involved in the film world for a while – but in several different capacities. What has the journey been like to get here?

I was interested in acting and found my way into that. I went to a high school with a very technical theatre department. It felt like a community where we just got together and put on a show. We built the sets from the ground up in a black box theatre. We hung all the lights and made all the costumes. It was very student-led, which impacted me as an impressionable teen. I fell in love with the process of studying and acting in that environment.

I thought I would study in a conservatory but ended up in California instead, where the technical theatre program wasn’t as strong. Then I went to New York and studied at Stella Adler. While there, all my classmates were focused on auditions and headshots, but I realized that’s not what I wanted. I was afraid of rejection.

Studying at Stella Adler was about subtext, the journey of the character, and creating emotional responses on stage through deep textual research. I loved that work and the intentional understanding of embodying a character. I ended up back in California, decided not to study acting anymore, and started studying production design because of my experience building sets. I loved translating my work as an actor into space, creating three-dimensional environments for actors to interact with—adding steps or the working sink or curtains to open and close, thinking about what the work of the character is and how to expose it through performance by creating physical spaces they could interact with.

Then I found myself wanting to up the ante a little bit more. My friends were all in the film program, so I weaseled my way into the program and became a double major in film and production design. My father is a cinematographer, so I grew up with camera equipment and going on sets. He mostly did documentaries, but he also did a lot of commercial work when I was older. It was always in the back of my mind, but it never occurred to me that it was what I could be interested in. It’s like your dad being a dentist.

I started my cinematography practice on film, shooting a lot of Super 8 and 16mm films… experimenting with unconventional methods like developing in the bathtub or getting friends to pee in a bucket.

But when I started thinking about it, cinematography was a convergence of all the different areas of study I had been interested in. It took the best parts of all those things and put me in a place where I could have a serious say and control over the visual appearance of a film and how the audience felt about an image. So I called my dad and asked, “What should I do?” He said, “Don’t do it.”

He told me to work in a rental house. Everything was still on film, and that was the only way to get your hands on a 35mm camera. I felt like I would never understand the technology. I don’t consider myself a very tech-heavy person. I’m not inspired by the tech for what I do. To me, the tech is a necessary piece of the puzzle and something I can get into, but storytelling always comes first.

So that’s what I did. I worked in a rental house in L.A. at Birns & Sawyer, got over the hurdle of the technology, and became fascinated by celluloid. I started my cinematography practice on film, shooting a lot of Super 8 and 16mm films, finding books at the library about how to develop film, and experimenting with unconventional methods like developing in the bathtub or getting friends to pee in a bucket. It was a lot of fun. It felt very tactile, experimental, and exciting. I thought maybe I was interested in stop-motion animation on film and “found footage”.

But then I moved to New York and started working in the industry—first in the art department, then in wardrobe, the camera department, and finally ended up at NYU to get my MFA as a cinematographer. From there, I ended up back here teaching. It surprises me that people don’t often transition from acting to cinematography. People see it as technology and emotion, and to me, cinematography is the perfect convergence of those two things. If you’re only interested in one, you’re leaving a lot on the table in terms of creating emotional images. If you’re only interested in the emotion, you can’t further your story using technology and the different parts of the craft at your disposal. So it’s a nice place to be, letting those two things jockey for attention.

What is Sorry, Baby About?

You’re at Sundance this year for your work as Director of Photography on Sorry, Baby. How would you describe the film to those who don’t know much about it?

I don’t feel like I have my little “zing” yet, even though I’ve been working on the film since 2021. I’ve sat with it for a long time. It’s a special film mostly because of Eva Victor, the director who also stars in the film. Eva was a first-time director coming into the project, having never directed anything before—not a short, not a commercial – nothing. But she brought enthusiasm to the filmmaking process, which made it fun to work on the project.

Agnes, our main character… has to dig herself out throughout the film.

Sorry, Baby is a personal drama about someone who gets lost and is trying to figure out how to right themselves after a horrible event. We see them over the course of five years, and it has a cyclical nature because we start at the end and go back to the beginning. It’s a story about someone struggling to get unstuck, a universal story for many. My mother has a saying: “It’s not what happens, it’s what happens next.” She says it to me all the time, and it’s the idea that we have to find a way to cope and move forward.

Agnes, our main character, doesn’t have someone saying that to her, so she has to dig herself out throughout the film. It’s a classic indie film – a bit of a lost art these days where you have blockbusters or prestige television with ten episodes. This film has a smart script, amazing performances, and is full of heart and intention in every corner of the process. Putting that on-screen and showcasing it at Sundance is a real pleasure. We need more of those.

Sorry, Baby and Director Eva Victor

The relationship between director and cinematographer is crucial, and it varies tremendously based on the specific person you’re working with. What was the working relationship like between you and director Eva Victor?

Eva and I were fortunate to have time together working on the project because it was all about trust. She trusted me not to overstep, and I trusted her to do just enough. It would be easy for a first-time director to work with a cinematographer who ends up directing the movie, being pushy or insistent, or taking over. That’s true on many scales because there are so many people—producers, script supervisors, production designers, editors—who can give input to a director. Finding someone who isn’t overly experienced but has a strong sense of what they need from the film is exciting, and Eva and I had that relationship.

My process on every project is to go deep into the characters and what we need out of a scene, then show up on set and communicate with each other through subtle cues about whether we’ve achieved it. This is true with every director I work with, but especially here because I had to be the eyes and ears on performance, lighting, camera movement, and all other puzzle pieces, and knowing what Eva wanted and whether we got it. Sometimes we disagreed on what the scene needed, but for the most part, we were in lockstep on Eva’s intention and what was achievable on set. It was a vital collaboration—we were really inside each other’s brains.

As soon as we finished the description for each chapter, we would both look each other in the eyes and say a colour. And we’d see if we could say the same colour that defined the chapter. We had five different chapters, and we ended up with five colours—all exactly the same.

During the prep process, we went through the shot list at least five times. That’s not just reading through the shots, but reading through the script and describing to each other where the camera is, bringing reference images, talking about lighting, movement, intention, and what each scene should feel like. Many shots revisit five years later, so it was important to know the slight changes in lighting, movement, production design, and how we felt the space differently with new information. All of that was part of the prep. On set, we had a lot of fun. There were some tough scenes, but we executed them efficiently. It was fun – we had a good time.

The Cinematography of Sorry, Baby

Did you and Eva have any films that served as inspiration for Sorry, Baby?

I think every film has a heartbeat—a film we refer back to. For every feature I’ve done, there’s a film we call attention to when we feel lost and hearken back to it. It’s not about reproducing exact shots or lighting, but about remembering how that film made us feel the first or tenth time we watched it.

For this film, inspiration came from Kelly Reichardt‘s film, Certain Women. There was something about the pensive nature of these women and the heartbreak each goes through, being able to see it coming, but hurting nonetheless. We would call upon that, recognizing certain emotional cores. Every once in a while, we’d say, “That’s exactly what we wanted, and we got it.” That film influenced us more than anything else. We had other visual references, but Certain Women was all about performance and camera placement and how they interact.

This movie moves through space and time. As a cinematographer, how do you show these shifts while maintaining a cohesive narrative?

We knew from the beginning that we weren’t changing our lens sets, sensors, or framing. We weren’t trying to make it a big presentation, but we still wanted it to feel different. We wanted to show seasonal and temporal changes as we moved through the chapters. Costume and production design were also crucial. We worked with our designers, Emily Costantino and Caity Birmingham, to track those changes and our character through those moments.

We discussed the psychology of it all – what it felt like for us, and how to translate that – is it about clutter, layers, or the opposite? Does she abandon certain clothing after something happens? Does she only wear something during specific times? Haircuts can show the passage of time, and things like the bag someone uses are subtle notes. It was my responsibility as the cinematographer to stitch all of that together with lighting and camera movement.

We considered how bright the moon is when indoors with all lights off in different chapters. How quickly the camera moves, the length of takes, the steadiness of shots. Do we stay in more two-shots or isolate into singles more quickly? I started to build my bag of tricks as a DP, creating a framework for the film, and then applied it across all five chapters with adjusted rules for each.

One of my favorite prep days was at The Marlton Hotel in Manhattan. We were sitting there, and we decided to read through the first description of each chapter. As soon as we finished the description for each chapter, we would both look each other in the eyes and say a colour. And we’d see if we could say the same colour that defined the chapter. We had five different chapters, and we ended up with five colours—all exactly the same. We were in sync about what it meant and what those colours represented. So that became our calling card. I had a little strip of colour on every single page for what year it was. That was a fun exercise.

Working with Producer Barry Jenkins

One of the greatest predictors of success for Sundance films is having a great producer attached to the project. With Sorry, Baby you have Barry Jenkins on board, who has an incredible track record in his early producing career. What was it like working with him and his team at Pastel?

When I first got involved with the project, I worked mostly with Adele Romanski, Barry Jenkins‘ producer and partner at Pastel. I remember teasing her at one point because Aftersun and All Dirt Roads Taste of Salt both came out of NYU and the grad film program. They (Charlotte Wells and Raven Jackson) were all classmates the year below me. So I was teasing her, “What do you just stand outside the doors at 721 Broadway and wait for NYU filmmakers to come out and offer them jobs?” And she responds, “Well, if the cinematography is good…” So I feel as though that’s how I got involved in all of this.

It feels really indie – other than, you know, Jennifer Lopez…

Barry had found Eva through Twitter. Somebody had sent a video they did on Twitter during the pandemic, and that’s how the script came to them. We’re so fortunate to have their guidance throughout all of this. The whole team at Pastel is so hands-on; it wasn’t like we made this movie and they came on at the end and got us into Sundance. It was about developing the idea, developing the script, developing the team.

They were thoughtful and didn’t impose ideas on us. They let us do the work, put everything out there, and were there to support us. Any time we turned to anybody from Pastel and said, “We’re thinking about this or what do you think? If we have to change the story in this way or that,” they were great at guiding the projects and filmmakers without being a heavy hand—but being supportive and letting everybody’s voices sing. I feel very thankful for that. It was also great to have Barry out on set with us. I feel fortunate to have worked with the whole team because they make great movies. They know good movies with good hearts.

Quick Questions: Directors, Films, and Playing at Sundance

If you could work with any director, who would it be?

David Lynch. Can I say David Lynch? I feel like we’re just realizing how much we all had a personal relationship with somebody most never got to be in the same room with. I’m very fortunate. I am colleagues with Fred Elmes, who shot Eraserhead and Blue Velvet and all of his work in film school, and I have always heard great stories about him. A director who is willing to take risks and bring a collaborator into the process and wants to make something that you feel, that’s what I’m most interested in.

What is a film that you watch and are inspired by, from a cinematography perspective?

Aftersun was actually one of those – having known the script and knowing Charlie and Greg Oke so well. Another movie that I’ve always loved is A Ghost Story. I love that movie for its simplicity and what they did with the visuals. It’s not gratuitously good-looking. It’s the story and it uses the space. I love that.

What are some other Sundance films you’re hoping to catch at the festival?

I’m going to end up seeing one other film – I just know it. Sundance is so much about the panels and the parties. It’s more like a conference than films sometimes.

I have a couple of friends who have films in the festival, a couple of former students. Alfonso Herrera is at the festival for a second time with Max Walker Silverman for Rebuilding. Sam Motamedi, who shot Ricky, is also in competition. I’m very excited for him and Rashad Frett on that. I was fortunate to see the film in development at the Sundance Labs two years ago where I was there as a DP, so I’m looking forward to seeing the completed feature.

It’s going to be a good year. Some stuff looks fun, and it feels really indie – other than, you know, Jennifer Lopez…

More About Mia Cioffi Henry (from www.miacioffihenry.com)

Mia Cioffi Henry is an IATSE Local 600 Director of Photography who lives and works between New York City and Pescara, Italy. She travels all over the world to shoot feature films, TV, commercials and music videos which have premiered in major film festivals such as Sundance, SXSW, New York Film Festival and Berlinale.

With a background in dance, production design and still photography, Ms. Cioffi Henry is inspired by Sirkian Melodrama, the world of William Eggleston and fantastical light in everyday life.

Ms. Cioffi Henry received her MFA in Cinematography at NYU Tisch as a Dean’s Fellow and Graduate Assistant. She is the recipient of the Nestor Almendros Award for Outstanding Achievement in Cinematography, and a finalist for the ARRI Volker Bahnemann Award. Her work has won Jury Awards at SXSW and Locarno film festivals. Ms. Cioffi Henry is the current Head of Cinematography at NYU Tisch’s Graduate Film program.

Ms. Cioffi Henry is a member and mentor of 600 Black Women, a group of Black female identifying members of the Local 600 Camera Guild, an inaugural member of Cinematographers XX a group of working cinematographers who are women and the BIPOC filmmaking collective Sporas