Synopsis: Inspired by the life of John Davidson, the film follows a teenager diagnosed with Tourette Syndrome in 1980s Britain as he struggles through adolescence and, years later, emerges as a leading advocate for understanding and acceptance.
Stars: Robert Aramayo, Maxine Peake, Shirley Henderson, Peter Mullan, Scott Ellis Watson
Director: Kirk Jones
Rated: R
Running Length: 120 minutes
Movie Review in Brief: Formulaic but effective, I Swear runs on Robert Aramayo’s BAFTA-winning performance and a supporting cast that refuses to coast. The biopic takes shortcuts, but the performances never do.
Review:
Earlier this year, a moment at the 79th British Academy Film Awards briefly threatened to overshadow one of the best lead performances of the season. The man at the center of it was John Davidson, the real-life subject of I Swear, whose Tourette syndrome tics were audible during the live broadcast in a moment that sparked international debate. The film that brought Davidson to the BAFTAs in the first place? That deserves to be the headline. Directed and written by Kirk Jones (Waking Ned Devine, Nanny McPhee), I Swear follows a familiar biopic blueprint more faithfully than it probably should. But when the performances are this good, formula becomes a foundation rather than a limitation. The cast refuses to let the material just sit there, and that makes all the difference.
The Man Behind the Tics
Based on Davidson’s life, the film charts his journey from a misunderstood teenager in 1980s Galashiels, Scotland, through decades of struggle, small victories, and hard-won advocacy. As a boy, Davidson’s condition manifests at the worst possible time, derailing his dreams of becoming a football player and bringing punishment from teachers who mistake his tics for defiance. His father leaves. His mother, overwhelmed and short-tempered, doesn’t know what to do with him. A suicide attempt lands him in the hospital. The opening stretch is harrowing and handled with restraint, setting the stage for a story about a man who spent most of his life being told he was the problem.
Robert Aramayo (The Empty Man) plays the adult Davidson, and it is a towering performance. The physicality alone is staggering. Aramayo spent three months living with the real Davidson in his hometown, learning everything he could about how the condition affects daily life, and that preparation shows in every frame. The tics, the outbursts, the sudden violent body movements are all rendered with a precision that never tips into imitation or caricature. There’s a dignity to how Aramayo carries the role that makes you lean in rather than look away.
This is the performance that won the BAFTA for Best Actor in a Leading Role, beating out a field that included several of this season’s Oscar nominees. Aramayo’s sensitive, layered portrayal of a man fighting to be seen as more than his condition is the kind of work that should be remembered on its own terms. I wish the film surrounding it were stronger so I could argue the point more forcefully, but even in a formulaic vehicle, this is the kind of turn that stays with you. (Aramayo also won the BAFTA Rising Star Award, a rare instance of a double win at the ceremony.)
The Champions in His Corner
Jones structures the story around the people who chose to see Davidson clearly when the world couldn’t be bothered. Maxine Peake (Dance First) is remarkable as Dottie Achenbach, a mental health nurse who becomes Davidson’s fiercest advocate after he befriends her son Murray. Peake plays Dottie with a no-nonsense warmth that never curdles into sentimentality. She’s the one who tells Davidson to stop apologizing for his tics around people who understand them, and the way Peake delivers that moment makes it feel like the most important thing anyone has ever said to him.
Peter Mullan (Hercules) matches her as Tommy Trotter, the elderly caretaker at the community centre who gives Davidson his first real job and treats his condition as a non-issue. Mullan has always been one of those actors who can say more with a look than most performers manage in a monologue, and, just as he did in a breakthrough moment in Billy Elliot, he deploys that skill beautifully here. Tommy’s matter-of-fact acceptance becomes the film’s most persuasive argument that awareness, not treatment, is what Davidson needed most.
Shirley Henderson (Stan & Ollie) takes on the rare unsympathetic role as Davidson’s mother Heather, a woman who made choices she’d come to regret out of frustration and ignorance. It’s one of the areas the film doesn’t fully flesh out or resolve, leaving threads dangling that feel like they belonged to a longer, more comprehensive telling. Scott Ellis Watson makes his acting debut as the young Davidson and handles the early scenes with a naturalism that makes the transition to Aramayo feel seamless.
Formulaic but Effective
Here’s where the review has to get real honest. I Swear covers roughly forty years of Davidson’s life in two hours, and the compression shows. Years get glossed over. Relationships appear and fade without resolution. The film offers a Cliffs Notes version of its subject, hitting the expected beats of childhood strife, finding a champion, doing it on your own, setback, and eventual triumph. If you’ve seen a biopic in the last twenty years, you know the shape of this one before the second act begins.
But does that matter? I think it depends on what you’re looking for. Watching at home, I was fully engaged. The pacing is brisk, the emotional beats land where they need to, and the performances sell every scene they’re in. It’s only afterward, sitting with the film, that the gaps become noticeable. How did Davidson’s advocacy work actually develop? What was his relationship with his mother really like in those intervening decades? The film hints at these questions without answering them, and the reconciliation scene between mother and son, while well-acted, feels like it’s resolving something the movie never fully showed us.
The technical work is solid without being flashy. Cinematographer James Blann presents the shifting time periods, 1980s through 2020s, with a clear visual identity for each era without calling too much attention to itself. Costume designer Denise Coombes nails the character details, keeping Aramayo in the tracksuits and sweatpants Davidson favored while ensuring the wardrobe evolves naturally through the decades. Thankfully, nobody resorted to bad wigs. Composer Stephen Rennicks provides a score that stays out of the way when it should and lifts the bigger moments without overdoing it.
The Performance Deserves the Last Word:
No biopic can cover every base in two hours, and I get that. But when you have control over how a life story gets told, the choices you make about what to include and what to leave out become the story themselves. I Swear chooses the inspirational path, and it walks that path well. Davidson’s life, from misunderstood kid to MBE recipient, is a story worth telling, and the film tells enough of it to make you glad it exists. It’s been out for a while in the U.K. but U.S. audiences will get their chance to see it when Sony Pictures Classics releases it on April 24, and it’s also screening April 18 and 19th at the Minneapolis St. Paul International Film Festival for those nearby.
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