Sweet Angel Baby is a novelistic, heartbreaking slice of Canadiana. It follows Eliza (artfully played by Canadian actor Michaela Kurimsky ), a seemingly sheltered young woman in a small Newfoundland town, who is beloved by nearly everyone. Her mother is present but distant, leaving most of the town’s residents (many of whom are pushing sixty) to fill in as surrogate parents. The community is peaceful, God-fearing, and church-oriented, but its rigid uniformity leaves some residents quietly testing its restraints. One of them, in secret, is Eliza.
She runs a risqué Instagram account called Lil Wildling that features pictures of her, posting masked photos to keep her identity under wraps. The content features a blend of erotica and the Canadian wilderness. For example, in one unforgettable post, she’s topless beside the head of a buck her elderly neighbour had just hunted, still strapped to the top of his four-wheeler.
On the surface, Eliza seems relatively content, if bored, with the version of herself she shows the town. She’s happy to skip the whole “finding a man” thing, content to serve the struggling church, and politely turns down the few “approved” suitors people try to push her toward.
It’s not just her Instagram that risks shattering the wholesome image she’s built, it’s also her secret situationship with the town’s only out lesbian, Toni ( Elle-Máijá Tailfeathers ). A handful of people know about their past, or even suspect they’re more than friends now, but no one’s eager to rock the quaint little boat. So they brush off the giveaways – holding hands in celebration, lingering looks – as nothing more than signs of a close friendship.
To make things even messier, a married man from her past, Shawn ( Peter Mooney ), whom Eliza’s known since childhood, starts making his adulterous interest obvious. And he’s not subtle. He does it right in front of his wife and kids.
Why Eliza entertains him is anyone’s guess. Maybe she likes the rare attention, maybe it’s because he’s handsome and popular, or maybe it’s the thrill of doing something the town would never approve of. Whatever the reason, she starts drawing out his advances, sometimes even inviting them. At one point, she jumps at a chance to get close (agreeing to a favour for his wife), then playfully (and a little brazenly) swipes his toque.
One day, after a fight with Toni, Eliza does something she’s never done before. She agrees to see Shawn in private. He suggests coming by her place around 9 p.m., keeping it discreet. He won’t bring the car that everyone knows as his; instead, he’ll take his ATV and stash it in the woods.
He shows up with an aw-shucks grin and a bundle of fish instead of flowers, and they start talking. Eventually, they kiss. Things turn hot and heavy, and he starts talking dirty, eventually dropping a name: Lil Wildling.
At first, Eliza plays dumb. “Lil Wildling”? What’s that? Kurimsky, ironically, nails this poor acting from Eliza, and it’s obvious to both her and Shawn that he knows exactly what she’s been up to. He proves it by pointing out she wore his toque in one of her photos. He’s right. With no way to deny it, she tells him – plainly – to leave. He doesn’t. He stays put. She asks again. Still nothing. Then he assures her it’s fine because he won’t tell anyone. Eventually, she gives in, but the queasy look on her face never fades.
Moments later, Toni shows up, likely to make up after their fight. Eliza tells Shawn they should stop before they get caught, though it’s clear she’s really just grasping for any excuse to make him stop. He protests, says whoever it is will leave. And they do.
Sweet Angel Baby asks a big question: How can someone in crisis get help in a place that won’t accept their true self, especially when that self clashes with their community’s idea of who they should be? Why does Eliza have to feel guilty for not fitting the role everyone expects in her town? Is it really her job to live up to this patriarchal community’s idea of growth or success? No, but that’s exactly the kind of place that keeps people asking those questions, all to keep things uniform and controlled.
Writer-director Melanie Oates is a master at capturing those morally grey, hard-to-put-into-words moments that make life messy and worth digging into. Kurimsky nails these scenes with her unique, subtle, and layered expressions. The acting is so strong that it almost steals the spotlight from the stunning Newfoundland & Labrador backdrop. Kurimsky and Peter Mooney (as Shawn) both bring that classic East Coast aw-shucks charm, but with a quiet ennui that fits perfectly in today’s era of thoughtful Canadian dramas.
Don’t expect Sweet Angel Baby to wash over you easily. This instant classic will sit with you like a sinking stone.
Sweet Angel Baby is in theatres now.
