Sound of Freedom, Directed by Alejandro Gómez Monteverde

Written by Rod Barr and Alejandro Monteverde
Starring Jim Caviezel, Mira Sorvino, Bill Camp
Distributed by Angel Studios
Running time: 131 minutes
Rated PG-13 for language, drug and alcohol use, indirect depictions of child sexual abuse

I read, write, watch, and play a lot of content that falls into the action and/or horror genres. In fiction, very little upsets me, including depictions of graphic violence. But Sound of Freedom is one of the most emotionally taxing movies I’ve ever seen—and it’s absolutely worth watching.

The film is based on a true story and follows Homeland Security agent Tim Ballard (Jim Caviezel) who, in 2013, was part of a task force responsible for tracking and arresting people who distribute child pornography online. After arresting a particularly prolific offender named Oshinsky, Ballard begins to wonder how much good he’s really doing; he’s arrested many people for possession and distribution of child abuse content but has yet to save a single child. He befriends Oshinsky, pretending to be a child abuser himself, and makes a bogus offer: He will see to it that Oshinsky serves little or no prison time if he provides Ballard with a real child. Eventually, Ballard persuades Oshinsky to facilitate a deal with a Colombian human trafficking ring, during which he purchases an eight-year-old boy named Miguel. As soon as the deal is done, Ballard files new charges against Oshinsky and befriends Miguel, who tells him that his sister, Rocío, was also abducted and sold into slavery. The rest of the film follows Ballard’s quest to find the missing girl and return her to her family.

When I bought tickets for Sound of Freedom, I didn’t look at its rating—I assumed that it was rated R. I was shocked to discover that it’s rated PG-13 (I would not show the film to most teenagers under sixteen). And yet, it is consistently restrained, measured, and tactful in its approach to a deeply uncomfortable subject. No sexual abuse is shown on-screen, but the implied off-screen abuse of children as young as four is nonetheless stomach-churning. Such scenes easily could have made the film unwatchable if not for its excellent pacing; director Alejandro Monteverde has a keen sense of when to cut to a less traumatic scene to give viewers time to recover.

Despite the film’s subject matter, its goal is not to disturb or upset viewers for shock value. Rather, it sets out to elevate real-life heroes and to show that, at least sometimes, even the worst tragedies can have happy endings (or rather, endings that are as happy as possible, under the circumstances). Ballard is relentless in his quest to reunite a single family torn apart by sex traffickers, so much so that his strength lends viewers the strength they need to get through such a difficult film.

When he asks his supervisor, Frost, for additional time and money to find Rocío, Frost says that there’s no way Washington will approve the request. He tells Ballard, “[Miguel] is already back with his father; that’s a career capstone. Take the win and move on.” Ballard responds, “You misunderstand what I’m asking for. This job tears you to pieces. [Finding this little girl] is my last chance to put those pieces back together.” Chagrined, Frost agrees to fund the operation and to lie to his superiors about its nature.

This exchange between Ballard and his boss highlights the fact that Ballard strongly values individual life. He recognizes that the vast majority of children victimized by sex traffickers are beyond his ability to save, but he can and will save a few—one at a time, if necessary. Throughout the film, he rejects the defeatist mind-set that many of his colleagues held: that there is no point in rescuing individual children when, in the time it takes to do so, another thousand will be victimized. Although Rocío’s life may not matter to the rest of the Department of Homeland Security, it matters to Ballard, and he will go as far as necessary to bring her home to her father and brother.

When the DHS halts funding and shuts down Ballard’s operation in Colombia, he resigns and continues his search for Rocío without the U.S. government’s support. He allies with a Colombian detective named Jorge and an ex-con named Vampiro (Bill Camp), who used to work for the cocaine cartels. Vampiro nearly committed suicide years earlier after realizing that he was unwittingly supporting the child sex trade; he now buys children and helps them return to their families. Camp is a perfect choice for the role, bringing much-needed levity and humor to what otherwise might have been an unbearably heavy film. For instance, on first meeting Ballard, Vampiro jokes about his clothing and haircut:

Nice to meet you. By the way, everyone on this street knows you’re a cop. Do me a favor, don’t ever come in here again looking like you just walked out of a Banana Republic. That shit might fly in Bogotá, but this is Cartagena, this is a party town. Lighten up, man.¹

Ballard and his team in Colombia later join forces with a billionaire real estate developer named Pablo (Eduardo Verastegui), who agrees to use his fortune to fund a massive sting operation. (It’s nice to see a rich businessman portrayed in a movie as heroic, which is all too rare.) When Pablo backs out after Ballard resigns from the DHS, Ballard convinces him to recommit to the sting by asking him to consider what he would do if Rocío were his daughter. In doing so, Ballard gets the mission back on track by keeping his ally focused on a specific person’s life instead of on reports and data.

Although some theaters and critics are classifying Sound of Freedom as an action film, it is undeniably a character-driven drama. Only three scenes involve fistfights or gunfire, and all of them are brief, reminding modern viewers that stories need not be packed with physical action to be captivating and compelling. Caviezel, in particular, shines in his role, showcasing masterfully subtle and multilayered movements, facial expressions, and tonal shifts. Viewers are never in doubt about how Ballard feels, whether he’s terrified, grief-stricken, or angry, even when he (the character) is acting. In a particularly powerful scene in which Ballard and his Colombian allies have a meeting with the sex traffickers who originally kidnapped Rocío and Miguel, Ballard pretends to be a rich American interested in buying dozens of children. He jokes, laughs, and celebrates with the traffickers; yet, viewers can clearly see in his eyes that he’s considering killing all of them on the spot. He refrains because doing so would destroy any chance of finding Rocío or the other stolen children, thereby heroically subordinating his emotions to his reason.

Sound of Freedom is not flawless, but its shortcomings are few and minor. Some odd cinematography choices seem dramatically inappropriate, such as close-ups when a wide shot would have been more effective, or vice versa. The film’s genre-blending score and general sound design are mostly excellent, particularly its use of complete silence in certain scenes. However, in a few cases, the intensity of the music overwhelms the visual action and should have been dialed back a bit.

Barr and Monteverde are clearly skilled screenwriters who know how powerful a “less is more” approach can be. There are a number of long silences between characters, and in each case, silence was exactly the right choice—any dialogue would have been far less effective. In dialogue-heavy scenes, each word is impactful, written with a clear purpose in mind, in stark contrast to so many modern movies in which actors ramble endlessly in ways that do nothing to develop their characters or drive the plot forward. The editing is similarly skillful; despite the film’s considerably longer-than-average runtime, it never feels drawn out or padded. Every scene and shot pulls its weight, moving the story along or keeping viewers emotionally invested.

It’s worth noting that, as of this writing, the film is embroiled in an especially bizarre controversy. Many critics and media outlets are calling it a “faith-based film” and/or a “vigilante story,” both of which are simply false. The film includes only three references to “God,” none of them important to the plot, nor do they come across as evangelistic. (The real-life Ballard is a Christian, and Caviezel is simply portraying him.) To describe the film as “faith-based” is to imply that Ballard’s faith enabled him to free children from slavery. Obviously, this is nonsense. He deserves praise and admiration for his use of reason, his determination, and his calculated risk-taking; his religious beliefs are irrelevant to both the fictional and real-life versions of the events portrayed in the film. Sound of Freedom is also not a “vigilante story” by any stretch of the imagination; throughout the entire film, Ballard works as either a sworn law enforcement officer or as a civilian consultant to law enforcement agencies.

As of this writing, Sound of Freedom is doing phenomenally well at the box office, especially relative to its modest budget of $14 million. Although it is emotionally straining at times, it is nonetheless an excellent and important film about heroic, inspiring people—and a film that hopefully will have a positive impact on real-life efforts to fight child trafficking.

About Tim White

Tim writes fiction and nonfiction, and he's especially interested in the power of storytelling to promote human flourishing. He also owns an escape room venue and has studied game design since 1998. He publishes writing guides on Medium and coaches other writers at TimWhiteWriting.com.

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