Ron Swanson to the darkside

If you want to mess up your YouTube algorithm for a while—and make yourself a little dumber—go on YouTube and search “Sovereign Citizen.” There’s no shortage of compilations and short documentaries about these people. If you don’t feel like doing that, Wikipedia offers a basic breakdown:

a sovereign citizen is someone who believes they are not subject to government laws, courts, or regulations—particularly those of the United States federal government. Adherents, often self-described as “state nationals,” “freemen,” or “living men/women,” believe the government is illegitimate and that they have opted out of a social contract with the state, making them immune to taxation, driver’s licenses, and other legal requirements.

What that definition leaves out is the often hilarious—and always confusing—blend of misunderstood history, semantic fog, and myopic legalese these people tend to speak in.

Sovereign (2025) stars Nick Offerman, Jacob Tremblay, Thomas Mann, Nancy Travis, Martha Plimpton, and Dennis Quaid. Offerman and Tremblay play father and son Jerry and Joe Kane, both “sovereign citizens” fighting what they see as the good fight against banks and government overreach, traveling the country and giving speeches to rapturous crowds. Tremblay’s Joe is homeschooled by his father. At some point in the past, their family suffered a tragedy, losing their wife/mother and sister/daughter. Jerry and Joe are all each other has, and the mix of sadness, instability, and passion on display is nothing short of fascinating. There is clearly love between them—along with an unhealthy level of codependency.

Juxtaposed with this—though no less complicated—is the father-son relationship between Dennis Quaid and Thomas Mann. Quaid plays John Bouchart, a traditionally masculine police chief, while Mann plays his son Adam, a new police recruit. There’s a clear parallel between the two relationships. Both fathers are hard and demanding because that’s how they express love. Both sons accept that love but still want to carve out their own paths.

The cinematography captures the coldness of the world and the bleakness at the edges of America through its naturalistic, though sometimes flat, lighting. If you’ve ever experienced late fall in the Midwest—the gray skies, yellowing grass, and constant need for a sweatshirt—you’ll recognize the feeling. Director Christian Swegal does an excellent job portraying that atmosphere while resisting the urge to outright condemn either father or son. Instead, he observes. It would be easy to laugh at or dismiss the Kane family especially, but the film invites a different reaction. I found myself fascinated by their desperate attempts to hold onto their home and make sense of their place in the world.

The biggest criticism is that the film feels somewhat predetermined. You can sense where things are headed, although there is a complication that genuinely surprised me. Don’t let the poster mislead you, though—this isn’t an action movie. It’s better suited for a slow Sunday afternoon, followed by some light discussion over coffee.