Considering the mockery Tourette’s syndrome has endured, its depiction in film can be tricky, even with the acceptance that has come about in the past few years. A recent controversy at the BAFTAs brought the topic back into the spotlight, forcing the world to recognize the condition amid an instant-everything society so quick to judge. While that topicality would make I Swear an essential film for its focus on Tourette’s, it thankfully doesn’t feel like a standard disability drama.

The story of John Davidson is a compelling one, especially for someone growing up in a working-class Scottish setting who struggles to recognize his condition. His bursts of insults and spasms draw the ire of his school and lead to his isolation from his family, ranging from his father leaving to his mother trying to find ways to correct his behavior. As John grows into an adult, played by Robert Aramayo, he finds better guidance in his friend’s mother, Dottie (Maxine Peake), a mental health nurse suffering from cancer. Dottie is not only patient and comforting with John, but also knows enough of the condition to realize medication is not the answer.

The film becomes an enduring mix of John coming to terms with adulthood while living with Tourette’s and advocating for greater understanding. John can have a night out on the town with his best friend, but a misunderstanding at the club leads to him having to explain himself in court. There are moments when John has advocates stick up for him, as with his gruff boss, Tommy Trotter (Peter Mullan), but his testimony for John means so much more than just bestowing pity. He’ll tolerate John’s inability to control his language, but he will praise the lad for his mean cup of tea without a hint of fake appreciation. Their interactions are charming, even when John accidentally whacks Tommy in the balls, prompting a smirk and the remark, “Come on, it’s Christmas.”

Aramayo’s performance not only lends dignity to the depiction of Tourette’s syndrome but also makes for a believable young man who wants to spread his wings, get a job, and have a pint with pals. That aspect is key not only to making this film as entertaining as it is informative, but also to crafting a character who is not bound by his condition. Director and writer Kirk Jones is wise to keep the film’s focus on acceptance rather than on solutions to Tourette’s syndrome. It would’ve been so easy for the film to trip into this area for the emotional moment where John tries out a median nerve stimulation device that allows him to control his outbursts. There’s a wise faith Jones places in the material to make it more about John’s tearful reaction to the quiet rather than conquering a mountain he can look down from. The movie goes out of its way to highlight that societal acceptance is not only more feasible in the present but also critical to how we handle mental conditions in general.

I Swear never reduces its disability drama to pity, working hard to build emotional impact and important advocacy. There are strikes of triumph and tragedy that never feel like familiar beats being struck, depicting John more as a person with agency than as a vessel for discussing Tourette’s syndrome. From landing a job with a fair boss to being beaten for his mouth slipping, there’s a complete picture of a fully realized individual who can lead a seminar on Tourette’s syndrome and address his distant mother, who failed to handle him. It’s refreshing that Jones ends the picture with a textual epilogue explaining why acceptance of Tourette’s syndrome is the most crucial aspect of making a better world, but it rings all the truer after such a resonant picture, making the reiteration feel like the cherry on top of a well-made movie.

Not available on any streaming platforms.

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