I Swear

★★★⯪

I Swear (2025)

Runtime: 120 minutes

MPAA: Rated R for language throughout and some violence.

It's interesting to draw parallels between two biographical movies released around the same time (I Swear was released in the UK in October 2025, but would only reach international markets in April 2026). Michael was a passable, greatest-hits biopic. It somewhat covered aspects of his life, provided solid entertainment value and has experienced great success with audiences, becoming the highest-grossing musical biopic of all time. Most people will overlook the far superior I Swear, unafraid to depict the uncomfortable, full of empathy, and anchored by great performances.

John Davidson is a Scottish activist for Tourette Syndrome. It's a condition that comprises of uncontrollable tics - fidgeting, spitting, uttering phrases (sometimes expletives), kicking, sudden movements in hands or other body parts, and other person-specific habits. I Swear, which is based on Davidson's life, may initially embark on a feel-good path, but it also throws you into discomfort, then leans into it. The result is a compelling film that humanises its subject and explores his troubled state with bracing honesty. The first half-an-hour is particularly telling. A 12-year-old John (Scott Ellis Watson) lives a relatively normal life at first, excelling in football, integrating well into the new school. He seems destined for greatness. Then, symptoms of the medical condition appear: he fidgets, yells expletives which he does not mean to, and spits in front of his dad and the school principal. Everyone blames him for having a bad attitude, he's made to sit at the fireplace during dinner, and his father eventually leaves the household. He looks at himself with intense self-loathing and confusion, wondering whether all his aspirations are in vain, then eventually attempts suicide at the river he usually visits.

After a time-jump, John, now 25 (Aramayo), still lives with his mother and has learned more about his medical condition. He runs into a school friend, who has returned from Australia after learning that his mother Dottie (Maxine Peake) has been diagnosed with cancer. John visits their household, and Dottie, a nurse, is immediately able to point out that John does not mean what he does or says. A later scene which reveals that John's mother was also a nurse makes this so much more interesting. Both parental figures being nurses clearly understand John's condition, symptoms and how challenging it is to live with Tourette's, but Dottie's empathy motivates John to discover his self-worth, purpose and to connect with everyone.

I'm a person who has interacted and worked closely with many Persons with Disabilities - although John does not like this term - so let's call it medical condition. There are obvious struggles and general comments like "how would they find a partner?", but they don't need your pity, your opinion on what they should do, or for you to go out of your way to help them. What they need is understanding and for you to treat them the same way as anyone else. Mike Oliver popularised the Social Model of Disability (sorry), which is something writer-director Kirk Jones precisely nails. A lesser film would have framed Tourette's as an obstacle that's meant to be overcome, artificially inserting human villains for John to defeat, culminating in him delivering a speech to an audience and receiving applause. I Swear understands the complexities of the real world, by framing society's attitude, lack of resources and educational awareness as something John has to navigate through, but to ultimately achieve human connection and for people to laugh with him, not at him.

None of these would work as beautifully without two things. Aramayo's performance really grounds these feelings, making their impact far more substantial than expected. He conveys the mental exhaustion of all that's happened to him so well, whether that's contempt from his family, being repeatedly beat up in public or arrested by police for trivial matters. Most importantly, John is human, and that's what I Swear captures. His tics are unpredictable, and sometimes the absurdity of it is unintentionally hilarious. But he also apologises for it extremely frequently, is understanding of the many people around him, and continues being optimistic with aspirations. Even when Dottie or his employer Tommy (Peter Mullan) start to feel like they serve as plot devices, it instead further drives his central agency to have his voice heard. Tommy so happens to run a community center, so John capitalises on the opportunity to gather people together and share his experiences. He has a conscience and thinks.

The climax is surprisingly quiet, where after John receives an MBE despite accidentally cursing the Queen (which she understands and ignores), John revisits his mother and they converse about the older days, her admitting that she did not understand the tortured soul in him. He travels to the University of Nottingham where a treatment device gives him the much-needed catharsis when visiting the library and conversing with a woman on the way home. It's a little overlong especially when it keeps signalling that it's ending, not dissimilar to Project Hail Mary, but it's a slight quibble.

Many things happened to him, yes, but we connect with his experience because it's fundamentally human, and the film's approach to it is uncompromising, introspective, and truthful. The over-analytical can pick out what else works or doesn't later, but my gut feeling tells me the compassion in this movie is deeply moving. I trust my feeling. I Swear earned it.