Searching for a Movie in the Political Minefield That Is Sound of Freedom

Sound of Freedom is a rock-solid 90s-style message movie. It’s a bit didactic and even corny yet seemingly very earnest when taken solely at face value. If you’re looking for a visually glossy thriller with excellent performances from Bill Camp and Jim Caviezel, a potent moral agenda, Michael Mann/Peter Berg-esque depictions of professional guys who excel at doing dirty/dangerous work, and highly competent filmmaking, this is not a shoddy cinematic entry. Much of Sound of Freedom was shot viscerally on location—dripping with the tropical humidity of Honduras, Columbia, and the Amazonian jungle. It is far from a five-star film but boasts high-quality production values (20^th Century Fox funded this before merging with Disney, who shelved it), legitimate suspense, and throwback-style action-biopic simplicity.

Suffice it to say, it is disheartening to see the one-track right use the film as a moral smokescreen for empty political posturing. It is equally disheartening to see caviling among the one-track left who can’t hold two opposing viewpoints. I respect the choice of ethically and conscientiously curating what art/media to engage with. Refusing to watch a film backed by a political rival is a valid decision. That said, given the pay-it-forward model and the ease of getting a free ticket, one might argue going to see Sound of Freedom in theaters has no ethical or political downside—insofar by taking one of the “free tickets” limits the supposed spread of misinformation while not putting an extra penny in the hands of the funders/distributors.

Whether one should be wary of supporting Sound of Freedom stirs up many complexities. The ethics of media engagement are tricky and to parse this film with the scrupulousness it deserves is not easy, which is why many books, such as Erich Hatala Matthes’ Drawing the Line: What to Do with the Work of Immoral Artists from Museums to the Movies, have focused solely on this issue. The hysteria surrounding Sound of Freedom in particular is a mixed bag. Some journalistic pieces have incisively enumerated the film’s inaccuracies. Other pieces have detailed its murky meta-textual/political associations. And others have displayed empty scorn, uncorroborated by concrete facts.

No doubt, despite some thinly and tenuously delineated hit pieces, the moral and political connotations surrounding the central creative team and real-life subject should raise eyebrows. The film’s lead, Jim Caviezel, is on record claiming Tim Ballard, the real-life figure at the center of the film, was actively saving children from “adrenochroming” at a QAnon-affiliated conference in 2021. Although Caviezel made no explicit accusations between these claims and QAnon-adjacent theories, the media backlash has understandably filled in the blanks. Such inferences are not unfair, considering Caviezel was speaking before a QAnon-populated audience, but they are inferences, nonetheless.

More recently, an independent journalist has attacked Sound of Freedom by exposing the morally questionable side hustle of one of the film’s many second-wave investors, Fabian Marta. According to  Democratic Underground’s recap of Jim Stewartson’s Twitter reporting, Fabian runs “Sugar Daddy/Sugar Baby” parties. These parties are said to function as a smokescreen for domestic sex trafficking. While the legality of Sugar Daddy’s “Lifestyle Events” and “Boot Camps” are more fitting for an official agent than a film critic, this affiliation is not a good look.

Though a curious error of judgment (especially given Sound of Freedom’s subject matter), the attempt to smear the film by association is a reach. I don’t disabuse “Sugar Daddy” culture seemingly promotes unseemly power dynamics, creating a slippery moral slope that should prompt a legitimate investigation. But accusations that these advertised “Sugar Daddy” dances and events are a cover for child trafficking remain unproven speculation.

Moreover, the primary Tweet thread that first dropped these accusations relies on negatives (emphasizing the fact that Sugar Daddy videos and social media ads have no mention of “age limits”) and generalizations (“Enticing women on a commercial scale to trade money for sex is called sex trafficking,” the Tweet states, broadly). I am not here to refute or even chide investigative efforts. As noted, such suspicions warrant and deserve legal scrutiny. At the same time, the “Sugar Daddy” stuff very well may be legally and socially permissible. After all, affluent men can freely flaunt money to woo and court consenting adults. Toss in the cultural pervasiveness of swingers’ clubs, capital-incentivized romance, and niche fetishes, and “Sugar Daddy” culture may safely exist within the purview of American law.

It is also worth noting that this controversy is separated by multiple degrees from the film’s initial production. A screenshot in the previously mentioned Twitter thread shows Fabian bragging about backing the Sound of Freedom after Disney dropped the movie. Subsequently, Fabian was absent during the initial writing, production, development, shooting, and creation. He would have zero association if Disney never bought out 20th Century Fox and Sound of Freedom hit theaters in 2018 when it wrapped shooting. As a result, his financial backing deserves peripheral alarm, but it does not inform the messaging or quality of the film itself.

Political Meme or Message Movie?

Adding to all this noise is the realization that Sound of Freedom has become more a meme than a movie on social media—for both sides of the political spectrum. On the left, supporting this film by liberal-leaning film circles runs the fear of being guilty by mere association. Rolling Stone and The Guardian each published scathing rebukes of the film, which were more political screeds than movie reviews. Personally, it was even more disappointing to learn both reviewers arrived at their respective theaters entirely on the offensive.

The Rolling Stone reviewer Tweeted about his theatrical experience on a now-locked account (ostensibly locked to stop the overwhelmingly petty right-wing slander and name-calling he was receiving). I read the comment section vitriol. It was absurdly distasteful, blustery, and immature. That said, the reviewer’s display of immaturity was frustrating and worth documenting. In a two-part Tweet, I spotted extensive evidence of movie critic malpractice:

“On today’s installment of “Why Did I Pitch This,” I’m about to watch the extremely QAnon-pilled Jim Caviziel’s human trafficking thriller / always great to have the movie bartender cheerfully ask “so what are ya seeing” and reply ‘something terrible, for work’”

Similarly, in his own two-part Twitter thread, the snide Guardian reviewer exhibited proportionate bad faith:

“Tonight, I am attending a near-full screening of SOUND OF FREEDOM, the QAnon movie starring Jim Caviezel. Should be a cool way to make fun new friends / Rolled in twenty minutes early and the only other guy here is in the seat right next to mine – never been so full of fear”

One need not read either review to guess the overarching themes and takeaways. Despite working for reputable platforms/media companies, both displayed a conspicuous lack of intellectual discipline. While there are no regulations or rules for engaging in film criticism, there is a prevalent and normative expectation that critics (especially those on prominent platforms) should strive for some semblance of objectivity—allowing a work to speak for itself. Both Tweets show the opposite objective. Both critics amateurishly approached their assignments with premeditated disdain. Far from veteran critic Owen Gleiberman’s ambivalent and even-handed deconstruction, their smug attitudes showcased an inability to differentiate craft/text from political peacocking.

On the other side of the spectrum, conservatives of all stripes and colors have been vociferously celebrating Sound of Freedom as a landmark human rights statement. From Donald and Ivanka Trump to Elon Musk “to QAnon influencers Mel K and neo-Nazi collaborator Jack Posobiec (an early spreader of the “PizzaGate” conspiracy theory, an antecedent to QAnon)” (per Media Matters), every right-leaning celebrity has adopted and coopted the film. The ironies behind this crusade of laughably vapid virtue signaling are too many to name, given the right’s predominant stance of isolationism and its anti-philanthropic attitude toward anything south of our border. Nonetheless, Sound of Freedom has become coded as a right-leaning agitprop, luring out every political grifter in a disingenuous parade of solidarity.

Meanwhile, there are myriad controversies surrounding Tim Ballard. Ballard is a hard figure to pin down. In a 2020 New York Times interview, he admitted to strategically exploiting QAnon-conspiratorial thinking to push his anti-child trafficking movement: “Some of these theories have allowed people to open their eyes, so now it’s our job to flood the space with real information so the facts can be shared.” Ballard confesses here to pandering to QAnon demographics/disinformation to share “real information” and “facts.”

Ballard’s wording is purposely equivocal and crafty—trying to appease everyone. For left-leaning readers, he niftily insinuates that QAnon theories lack “real information,” but he does so without outwardly repudiating his core support base. Is he merely equivocating to appease the left-wing NY Times constituency? Or does one take Ballard for his word, believing he merely welcomes QAnon support for pragmatic reasons—namely, to spread awareness and garner support for his primary organization, Operation Underground Railroad (OUR)? It’s a tough call.

While OUR has indeed publicly denounced QAnon outright in a written statement to The Atlantic, Ballard has openly endorsed “outlandish QAnon-fueled theories,” including a wild conspiracy about the furniture company Wayfair and the belief that lenient border politics are behind the uptick in child trafficking. On a Fox & Friends segment, Ballard purported: “We are the country that allows, in the last two years, 85,000 unaccompanied minors to come to our border and then be let in without any vetting, no background check, and then what do you think is happening in the economy of pedophilia? We are the problem, we are the demand, we are creating this.” Clearly, he has shown a knack for repurposing the issue to bolster political conservativism.

Filtering Fact From Fiction Is Not Easy in 2023

Given how ideologically stacked Sound of Freedom has become, it is also not uncharitable to fact-check the events it depicts. While the film fabricates the final reconnaissance/Heart of Darkness-style jungle rescue mission, it also reenacts/depicts real events. Pre-credit footage substantiates the initial sting operation, showing visceral images of the child traffickers handcuffed on a remote island and shots of Ballard crouching, gun-in-hand.

Without any doubt, Ballard and his team rescued many abducted kids. Nevertheless, multiple articles have contended OUR’s string operations were poorly managed and failed to provide sufficient aftercare or significantly improve the child-trafficking epidemic. These exposés paint Ballard as a bounty hunter-style con man who speaks a strong game about salvation but lacks follow-through and tactical discretion.

Even here, it’s hard to sort fact from fiction. Operation Underground Railroad could be the overzealous and incompetent outgrowth of a gung-ho ex-military/government megalomaniac profiteering off child trafficking. At the same time, it is hard to frame the pros and cons fairly. There’s the strong counterargument that flaws or not, OUR is better than relying on gridlocked, inept, and inert bureaucracies to act.

To point out operational shortcomings is not unproductive, but it’s also a bit odd to solely fixate on them when the alternative is no intervention at all. Considering the victims’ already dire & inhumane conditions, not to mention the challenges of pulling off a rogue sting operation, it seems weird to fixate solely on the imperfections.

Whatever side one falls on, the merits of Tim Ballard as an individual are both crucial and ancillary. Most people have no clue what Ballard’s actual intentions were or are. In Sound of Freedom, he is a Homeland Security Investigations agent who quits to save trafficked kids privately. In real life, many perceive Ballard as a serial grifter with dirty political/mercenary baggage. Quite suspiciously, Ballard enigmatically parted ways with Operation Underground Railroad this week. To say the timing of his departure is beyond fishy would be an understatement, especially when there are reports about Ballard as the subject of an internal investigation.

Even if Ballard himself is indicted or exposed as a fraud, there’s still the fundamental question of whether the subject of a biopic must live up to fictional representation to send a powerful message. Sure, there is a natural expectation for any biopic to showcase a degree of accuracy. But given the minefield of conflicting opinions and readings, gauging whether Ballard is legitimately altruistic or honest becomes nearly impossible.

On this note, I’d argue the film wisely makes Tim Ballard less integral than the central message. Sure, it portrays Ballard as a heroic vigilante. But the character’s narrative flattery feels somewhat secondary to the story. The horrible indignity of the enslaved children and the overarching morality are the primary takeaways. Therefore, even if Tim Ballard’s real-life mission and organization prove corrupt, the underlying revelations and message regarding child trafficking still shine brightly. Hollywood biopics never tell the whole story. Subsequently, a subject’s real-life persona or actions should not alter a film’s value or power. On the contrary, real-life shortcomings should increase impetus and incentive for viewers to act.

Sound of Freedom’s Narrative, Cinematic, & Aesthetic Qualities

Ideologically and culturally charged from every direction, Sound of Freedom is easily one of the most outwardly divisive mainstream movies in recent memory. Politics aside, my interest was piqued by the aesthetic/tonal aspects of the trailer alone. As a movie fan who likes cinematic treatments of hot-button topics, it seemed like an underrepresented real-world phenomenon worthy of cinematic attention, and I learned quite a lot. I did not know child trafficking was the fastest-growing international crime network—passing the arms trade and en route to passing the international drug trade as the most pervasive form of crime in the world.

I also didn’t realize there are more people trapped in slavery (between 20 and 40 million) today than at any other time in human history. Even if the film inflated numbers, the reality is grim. Of course, it is wise to take movie statistics with a grain of salt and do additional research. It’s also wise to reflect on what statistics mean in multiple contexts and parse message movies for subliminal coding. That said, while pedophilia and child trafficking are manipulatively linked to leftism online, any such connection remains nonexistent in the film.

Likewise, reproaching Sound of Freedom on the grounds of patriotic deflection (i.e., claiming it outsources evil for the sake of a false nobility) doesn’t cohere by the end. Yes, releasing the film on the Fourth of July feels calculated and nationalistic. My concerns regarding jingoistic undertones were exacerbated when Ballard (Caviezel) treats a young Honduran boy to a cheeseburger at an Americana diner in the first act. Truth be told, I fully rolled my eyes at this setup—fully expecting a self-congratulatory “White Savior” treatise with zero self-awareness. Yet, while it remains hagiographic and slyly preachy about orthodox corn-fed family values, the film’s pre-credit script undermines jingoism by indicting US citizens as the prime culprit.

In fact, the global human trafficking industry moves more than 150 billion dollars a year (according to the International Labour Organization), and the film calls out the United States for being “one of the top destinations for human trafficking” and “among the largest consumers of child sex.” (According to “Human Trafficking Within and Into The United States: A Review of the Literature,” this claim stands up: “Estimates suggest that about 50,000 people are trafficked into the US each year.”) These statistics undercut any sense of xenophobia or ethical/nationalist superiority in a damning manner. That said, this closing statistical emphasis on America’s guilt as the largest importer of trafficked children reinforces leftist concerns. It seems to lean into one of the primary unspoken/underlying agendas the left fears. When decrypted through a politically coded lens, this statistical self-indictment hypothetically becomes quite sinister—cleverly weaponizing the QAnon conspiracy that American liberals and lax borders are the true sources of international pedophilia.

Whether effusively championing the movie or aloofly disregarding it, many reviews have been resoundingly correlative, intellectually lazy, and ideologically deflective—blinkered equivocations reflecting an underlying partisan bent and appearing mostly unconcerned with cultivating any utilitarian or social gain. I’ve been happy to gain new perspectives and caveats, but I’ve noticed a lot of clumsy rhetorical acrobatics trying to reinforce tribal distrust to peacock for the in-crowd and propitiate cognitive dissonance.

Sure, there’s broad-scale hypocrisy in faith-based/right-wing support for this subject, given these same groups permit separating families at the border. It is also reasonable to remain cautious about anything pushing institutional evangelicalism and cloaking a political/religious sermon in mainstream entertainment. But I don’t see the endgame in politically boycotting or gaslighting the cinematic qualities of this film with hyperbolic ad hominem when you can treat these polarizing factors independently.

I don’t see the utility in pretending to loathe or be morally/socially superior to the movie. If you’re reluctant and skeptical toward its cultural appropriations, you can easily extract positives, compartmentalize negatives, and create a forward-thinking dialectic. If you’re reactionary toward it, you’re just perpetuating a vicious cycle on solipsistic autopilot. And if you give it a one-star review, you are likely lying to yourself and others about the film’s aesthetic/cinematic merits. Directed and co-written by Alejandro Monteverde, Sound of Freedom is a serviceable adult thriller loosely based on actual events. Gorka Gómez and Andreu Aec’s cinematography is sleek and clean. The pacing never dips. The acting is all top-notch. It is mediocre moviemaking.

The opening shot—a long zoom ending in a Honduran apartment where a young beauty queen named Rocio sings—immediately grasps the audience’s attention. The early lighting and framing of Caviezel (as Ballard) as an agent working for the Homeland Security Investigations in Calexico is taut, mythic, and intelligently designed. Monteverde makes delicate and tasteful visual decisions, including a close-up of Caviezel’s eyeball as he scans and looks at incriminating evidence on his computer. When the film arrives in Cartagena, Columbia, and Ballard befriends Vampiro, a cartel accountant turned penitent vigilante, the gritty procedural vibes and thick air of suspense reminded me of Tony Scott’s Man on Fire and J.C. Chandor’s Triple Frontier.

The final two set pieces—a sting operation on a tourist island in Columbia and a rescue mission in a no-fly zone region of the Amazon run by the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia—are both tense and gripping. The unmapped jungle is rife with dangers as Ballard and Vampiro masquerade as NGO doctors in hopes of infiltrating the rebel camp, locating Rocio (the victim with the largest emotional stakes in Sound of Freedom, given we witness her abduction and her father’s quiet indignation inspiring Ballard to action), and freeing her in a daring escape. Yes, Monteverde includes saccharine flourishes of low-hanging ethos/pathos and a largely unrealistic final mission, but the emotional and ethical messaging loudly and viscerally resonates.

Sadly, the assassination reviews of Sound of Freedom have avoided much talk on the film’s cinematic or entertainment values, offering aesthetically phony and ideologically moot quibbling. Yet, sneering at the film with offhanded arrogance seems largely futile. It’s already raking in box office receipts from its acolytes. The pay-it-forward model has worked wonders in filling theaters with its designated constituency. Despite viral videos claiming no one is showing up, the truth of the matter is far from isolated anomalies. For a five-year delayed, fairly small-budget studio film released by an indie distributor, Sound of Freedom has become a history-breaking box-office phenomenon.

After paying the writers/actors what they deserve, Hollywood execs/indie distributors should take heed of the pay-it-forward model. Sure, it won’t work as well on secular films lacking political or moral-righteous appeal. Nevertheless, one can easily imagine inspired audience members sharing their love for a small-budget film by scanning a code and donating money to help others afford to watch it in theaters. For a struggling industry, the pay-it-forward model is an innocuous, ingenious, and nearly cost-free tactic that might substantially boost ticket sales.

When all is said and done, little is achieved by ignoring (unless the subject matter is triggering) or glibly ridiculing Sound of Freedom as a political maneuver. Since we largely subsist in bubbles and echo chambers online, disparaging takes may feel reassuring, but they only persuade critical minds to remain withdrawn. Staying away only allows populations susceptible to its propagandistic subtexts to become aroused by its message.

It also gives the film’s ideological base free rein to flaunt and self-aggrandize moral authority. Lacking grace and tact, many right-wing Twitter accounts have flooded any negative takes with overblown charges, defaming the “heretical” opinion holder as a pedophile-apologist. While I believe some of the negative knee-jerk denunciations of Sound of Freedom were arrantly snotty and disingenuous, these overreactions are disturbingly callow. It just becomes a nasty, lose-lose scenario. This dialectic insulates both ideological parties, sowing further division when skeptical interest in the film could do the opposite, fostering joint discourse on humanism and altruism.

Trying to Unpack an Apolitical & Utilitarian Viewing

Controversies aside, Sound of Freedom sheds light on the most vulnerable global citizens (with at least the pretense of narrative solicitude). To vicariously imagine what it’d be like to be abducted, imprisoned, and sold for sex five-to-ten times daily as a child is horrific. By simulating this abominable reality, the film has the power to galvanize coddled Westerners out of our apathy.

As silly as it often is, cinema indeed has emotional and humanitarian heft. It can be instrumental for change, healing, and political collaborations. It can mend hostilities and foster conscientiousness across party lines. Is Sound of Freedom manipulative and propagandistic? Perhaps: I’d neither adamantly nor confidently take offense to such claims. But anyone with half a brain should be able to parse the essential memo and use it for positive ends, even if that means reappropriating or prefacing their general/broad support of the cause with supplemental contexts, informative exposés, and finger-pointing think-pieces.

Caviezel’s decision to reference notable left-wing icons (Steve Jobs, Harriet Tubman, Uncle Tom’s Cabin) while preaching about the power of movies/storytelling during the credits seemed revealing. These selective examples were a clear attempt to start a bipartisan conversation. The entire speech was a total Tom Cruise move. The way Caviezel enthusiastically urges the audience (a long-dormant prime demographic of seniors, conservatives, vets, etc.) to support movies and stories on the big screen can’t be terrible for the industry.

(Sure, this audience demographic has already wielded conspiratorial fervor toward cineplexes for shoddy/non-working AC and failure to keep the lights on. Are these paranoid impressions true? Maybe. It’s not hard to fathom left-leaning AMC workers stealthily sabotaging the moviegoing experience for Sound of Freedom attendees. But the likelier case, and one I can vouch for as a recurring moviegoer, is the bright, trash-littered, non-air-conditioned theaters were a byproduct of overworked, underpaid adolescents doing the best they can in a busy summer season.)

Whether Caviezel is crazy or not (I, for one, have no clue whether adrenochroming is a real or widespread issue), he’s convincing at expressing heartfelt sincerity when combating child trafficking. It’s also hard to deny his screen presence. His eyes hold nonpareil depths of soulful sadness and anger. His laconic, seething fury is truly something to behold, making one wonder if his ideological detours are less about politicking and more the byproduct of misguided yet compassionate anger. If so, his radicalized self-righteousness is a prime example of a disposition that might be open to reason and dialogue.

Just as the faith-based right wants to “save” the left from the metaphorical millstone around their necks, the libertarian left might be better off striving to “save” the right through equal displays of invasive grace instead of wholesale mockery. Why not collaboratively form a coalition on a shared goal instead of firing away in an ideological stalemate? Sharing mutual solicitude toward a universal and unambiguous issue is a great way to begin reconciling. This schmaltzy plea is not even that quixotic or idealistic; it is timeworn pragmatism: leniency and receptivity increase exponentially when disputing parties start at a point of agreement.

This film’s basic premise (child trafficking sucks) seems like an easy and harmless agenda to get behind. Child trafficking is no joke. The final stats are startling, alarming, and deeply disquieting. The footage of the central sting operation is impossible to deny. Regardless of its motivations, Sound of Freedom seems like a starter for speaking about fundamental human rights and protecting vulnerable populations (I.E., the staple tenets of democratic liberalism). If it is indeed but a political ruse or a Trojan Horse gesture made by Alt-Right/QAnon hives, any bad faith aims will be made more manifest by actively engaging, whereas disengagement recycles stubborn self-defeating presuppositions.

I get it—it is 2023, and we’re exhausted, paranoid, and jaded. But ignoring or undermining the potential for conversation with sass and sarcasm will not produce any collective gains. Knee-jerk dismissiveness succumbs to the myopic and slovenly folly of shunning dialogue—far from ethically ennobling, it seems more like a cynical copout.