Set in small-town America, Sovereign follows a father–son duo led by a firebrand anarchist fighting government foreclosure, while his teenage son begins to question the family ideals. On the other side stands Dennis Quaid as the chief of police raising his adult son under law & order. A timely tale of men that overstays its welcome.
★★★✰✰
Christian Swegal’s Sovereign, which premiered at Tribeca earlier this year, has the surface trappings of a political drama but reveals itself as something more intimate: a story about what fathers hand down to their sons, for better or worse. Swegal, who wrote and directed the film, sets up a father–son road trip story inviting an enticing duology into the structure and casting choices that make the thematic intentions clear from the start.
Dennis Quaid, on something of a late-career upswing (see 2024’s The Substance), embodies the stoic ex-cop whose sense of duty bleeds into his parenting. Opposite him is Thomas Mann, who has always carried the air of a man slightly uncomfortable in his own skin (see Lessons in Chemistry (2023) where he must fill in for the main character’s brilliant research). That uneasy energy works here, lending credibility to a character defined largely by how he relates to his father’s authority. On the other side stands Nick Offerman, fresh from his Emmy win for The Last of Us (2023), delivering another turn as a grizzled libertarian railing against government intrusion. His sparring partner is Jacob Tremblay, now firmly grown out of his Wonder (2017) and Room (2015) child-actor phase, perfectly cast as a teenager still vulnerable to parental influence.
The setup is elegant: two fathers with diametrically opposed views of law, two sons trying to navigate the wreckage of ideology. Yet the execution doesn’t always deliver. Much of the story circles the same beats—Offerman refusing to pay taxes, railing against foreclosure, and delivering fiery speeches to his son and anybody who will listen about being independent Sovereign citizen, unaccountable to the government—while the film gradually exposes his hypocrisy as he gambles away money raised from supporters. As time goes on, their Sovereignty runs afoul with the law when Quaid picks them up after a routine stop warning the boy of the trouble they could be in, if their illicit activities continue. By the 80-minute mark, the audience understands the dynamic, but Swegal continues to loop the same argument, withholding the escalation that would give the climax its sting. The film denies viewers the powerful catharsis it seems to be building toward.
Tremblay’s role exemplifies the film’s strengths and weaknesses. He embodies thoughtfulness and restraint showcased so well by the scenes in which he tries and fails to register for school by himself filling out the forms, and later defending it with his father. When the script finally asks him to break into passion, the shift feels unearned. It’s a flaw of the screenplay rather than the performance, but it softens the impact of the father–son arc that should be the film’s emotional centre. Still, his presence grounds the story in youth’s vulnerability—the idea that even smart, discerning kids are not immune to their parents’ failures.
If the film’s writing sometimes stumbles, its casting is faultless. Swegal clearly subscribes to the old adage that 90% of directing is casting, and he’s matched actors to roles with precision. Martha Plimpton also stands out as a colleague of Offerman’s, offering ballast to the otherwise testosterone-heavy dynamics and fleshing out the film’s world.
On a technical level, the film is less inspired. James McAlister’s score, his second as lead composer after 2023’s Theater Camp, is competent but generic, leaning on light industrial textures that would be equally at home in a prestige TV drama. Similarly, Dustin Lane’s cinematography—shot with Summilux-C lenses—is clean, contemporary, and heavily character-focused, using shallow depth of field and a taller-than-usual aspect ratio to underline the father–son pairings, mostly in car scenes. The result is warm skin tones against minimalist backdrops, but few images linger in the mind. The most impactful is when Jerry and his son reunite and we see the burst blood vessel in Jerry’s eye after being beaten up the night before in detention. The cause and consequences of Jerry’s actions go unspoken. Swegal’s choice to keep the look unshowy makes sense thematically, but it deprives the film of a distinct visual signature.Still, there’s a moral clarity running through Sovereign that keeps it watchable even when its pacing falters. Swegal’s point is familiar yet sharply drawnYou don’t need to care about politics to get the message here: that children bear the consequences of the lives their parents choose. The film ends on this note, making it feel both inevitable and poignant, even if the road there is too drawn out. That’s the drum Sovereign beats, sometimes too often, but with enough conviction to stick. It may not be the sharpest film of the summer, but its father–son performances carry it further than its script deserves.
The Verdict
Sovereign is a film of strong performances and careful casting undercut by sluggish pacing and a lack of visual or musical distinction. Yet its central theme—that sons inherit both the virtues and the hypocrisies of their fathers—lands with enough force to make it worthwhile. Imperfect but resonant, it’s a drama that lingers more in thought than in feeling.
Support The Indiependent
We’re trying to raise £200 a month to help cover our operational costs. This includes our ‘Writer of the Month’ awards, where we recognise the amazing work produced by our contributor team. If you’ve enjoyed reading our site, we’d really appreciate it if you could donate to The Indiependent. Whether you can give £1 or £10, you’d be making a huge difference to our small team.