This inspiring Tourette’s drama is elevated by Robert Aramayo’s lived-in performance but suffers from cliched presentation.
★★★☆☆
Kirk Jones has been slowly making movies since the late 90s, and returns here with I Swear. The film follows the life of John Davidson (Robert Aramayo), who worked to change how the world views Tourette’s syndrome after facing a tough beginning and prejudice in 1980s Scotland and beyond. Jones’s film is at once harsher than some of his previous efforts like Nanny McPhee (2005) but does lean into the twee trappings of the biopic.
We join John aged fourteen, a promising young goalkeeper for his local team living with his repressed mother (Shirley Henderson) and domineering father (Steven Cree). All seems well until John starts ticcing, swearing and hitting out, something he can’t control but something nobody believes is unavoidable. There’s a deep sadness that runs through early scenes as John blames himself for the inevitable decline of his conservative family. Moments around the dinner table are filled with tension, and the audience will feel protective of John as his parents lament him for the uncontrollable. John feels imprisoned both in his head and his own home.
As he gets older John is stuck in a rut, unable to get a job or escape the clutches of his constantly disappointed mother. But when he bumps into an old schoolfriend he’s suddenly taken into the care of his friend’s mental health nurse mother Dottie (Maxine Peake), and the two bond over an acceptance over his condition. The story is sweet and honest, providing a lot of context and nuances but keeping a surprisingly dour edge in comparison to Jones’s sappy filmmaking. His direction is bland and uninspired, the shots feel simple and predictable and don’t add anything of note to the emotional core that does thankfully work.
Aramayo is the clear standout; his performance is vulnerable and heavily researched, and the film hinges completely on his believability. It’s hard to dislike I Swear because its heart is most certainly in the right place. However, it does become repetitive and predictable. The tics can be impactful, but many scenes play the same and the shock value dissipates. Tourettes by nature are repetitive but Jones never tries to attack scenes from different angles and unfortunately doesn’t challenge the audience enough. Some darker moments can also feel conceited and while they provide empathy for John, they’re heavily signposted and melodramatic. Perhaps a more nuanced approach would un-schmaltz the narrative by letting the darker moments breathe and the lighter ones feel more consistently impactful.
The Verdict
Despite its flaws, I Swear is an important film that will educate people with zero knowledge of Tourette’s. For that alone, it’s more than worth seeking out.
Words by Oscar Aitchison
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