Writer, producer, and actor Sofia Yepes joins us on Close-Up Culture to talk about her film, The Low End Theory. It tells the story of a traumatized vet-turned-money-launderer who steals from her drug dealer boss to pay off debts owed by the beautiful woman with whom she is having an obsessive affair.
Hi Sofia, You’ve said The Low End Theory is not just a creative endeavour but also a statement. Can you expand on that?
Absolutely. The Low End Theory was never just about making a movie—it was about making space.
We centered a queer, Latina, military veteran in a genre film—not as a sidekick, not as a box-checking afterthought, but as the lead. And we didn’t stop to explain her. We let her exist fully—flawed, fierce, and real.
That alone is a statement. Because too often we’re told stories like this don’t “sell,” or that we have to make our identities palatable in order to be seen. We pushed back on that. Quietly. Boldly. In every frame.
This film is a creative endeavor, yes—but it’s also a form of resistance. A reminder that representation isn’t a trend—it’s a responsibility. And that our stories deserve the spotlight, not the margins.
Can you tell us about the story and what energises you about it?
At its core, The Low End Theory is about a woman pushed to the edge—and what she’s willing to risk for a second chance at love, purpose, and herself.
Raquel is a queer Latina veteran with a dream that feels just out of reach. She’s stuck laundering money for a violent man, in a relationship built more on survival than love. And then she meets someone who reminds her of who she could be. That spark changes everything—and sets off a chain of choices that could either save her or destroy her.
What energizes me about this story is the tension—the moral gray areas, the emotional risk, the deep humanness of it all. This film is a meditation on consequence and karma. Raquel makes choices, sometimes desperate ones, and she has to live with the ripple effect. Nothing in her world comes without a cost.
We didn’t want a clean, tidy protagonist. We wanted someone complicated. Someone who loves hard, messes up, fights for something real, and keeps going even when it gets dark.
What can you tell us about the lead character, Raquel, and your experience playing her?
Raquel is a survivor—but not in the way we usually see on screen.
She’s a queer Latina veteran, shaped by military trauma and betrayal, caught in a life she never really chose. She’s learned to survive by believing in karma—that everyone eventually gets what they deserve. It’s the one belief that keeps her grounded, that lets her carry on when everything else is falling apart.
What drew me to her most is that she doesn’t fit into the “strong female lead” box. She’s not a hero, not a villain—she’s complex. She’s calculating, guarded, deeply emotional beneath all that armor. And portraying her demanded everything from me. There were days I left set emotionally gutted—because sitting in her pain and her silence? That doesn’t just wash off when the scene ends.
And it changed me. As someone who is a survivor of sexual assault, stepping into Raquel’s story was personal. I’m not a veteran, but I know what it’s like to carry that kind of pain and shame—and to take years to realize that what happened to you was not your fault. I never spoke up. I never did anything about it. And I know there are so many others, especially women in the military, who are still silenced—who are even less represented.
So yes, it was challenging. But it was also necessary. Because women like Raquel exist. And they rarely get to be the center of the story. I was honored to bring her to life—not just for me, but for all of us.
What was your collaboration like with director Francisco Ordonez?
Francisco is family.
We first worked together over 15 years ago on his thesis film at Columbia University—and we’ve been championing each other ever since. In this business, having someone who truly sees you and shows up for you is rare. Francisco has literally helped me submit auditions—we’ve always had each other’s backs.
So when I asked him to go on this journey with me, I knew exactly what I was getting: a talented, visionary director who I trust 1000%. His vision for The Low End Theory was so clear, even when it took me a little longer to fully see it. But I trusted him. And he delivered.
The best part about working with Francisco is that he trusts his actors. He gives us room to play, to bring the character to life, to help tell the story in a way that’s lived-in and real. We definitely hit some bumps along the way—eight years is a long time to work on anything—but we never lost sight of the film. We kept our hearts in it. And now, we’re even closer than before.
What do you think audiences will take away from this film?
I hope they feel something.
Whether it’s connection, discomfort, or a new perspective—I just want them to walk away shifted, even slightly. This film isn’t here to tell you what to think. It’s here to show you someone surviving in a world that doesn’t make it easy to survive. And if even one person sees Raquel and feels a little more seen themselves? Then we did our job.
What are your hopes and ambitions for the future?
I want to keep building—louder, bolder, and on my own terms.
I’m developing a Western right now, with a Latina front and center (because honestly, when was the last time you saw that?). I’m also working on a dramedy series that dives deep into crime, chaos, and complicated mother-daughter ties—but I’ll leave that one under wraps for now. 😏
And then there’s Sana Sana Single Mama—which started as a podcast for single mothers, but it’s become something much bigger. It’s evolving into a platform, a movement, a space for truth-telling, healing, and support. Because being a single mom shouldn’t mean being isolated or invisible. I want to build a village—one where we thrive, not just survive.
My future isn’t just about making films—it’s about building space, shifting culture, and leaving the door wide open behind me.
Photo credit: Ryan West
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