I Swear - A Beautifully Human Portrait of Resilience and Understanding

After a hectic few weeks, I finally made it to the cinema to watch I Swear and it was absolutely worth the wait. Warm, emotional, and beautifully crafted, this film is everything British cinema should be. I laughed, I cried, and I left the theatre feeling deeply moved.

Written by Kirk Jones, I Swear tells the powerful true story of John Davidson, the man who taught Britain about Tourette’s Syndrome.

We first meet John as a child - a seemingly ordinary boy with a paper round, a love of football and a solid group of friends. But as he enters high school, his Tourette’s symptoms begin to surface. The once confident and popular boy becomes a shadow of his former self. Bullied by classmates and misunderstood by teachers, he struggles to control his tics. In one particularly harrowing moment, we see his hands repeatedly struck with a belt as he tries to unsuccessfully suppress his tics in class.

Robert Aramayo and Maxine Peake in I Swear. Photograph: Graeme Hunter/PA

Unfortunately, his home life offers little comfort. His parents, particularly his mother Heather (played with raw authenticity by Shirley Henderson) fail to grasp the seriousness of his condition. “Stop playing silly beggars,” she pleads - a heartbreaking reflection of the lack of awareness around Tourette’s at the time. One especially poignant scene shows Heather forcing John to eat his dinner by the fireplace each night, desperate to contain the mess caused by his tics. It’s a small but devastating glimpse into Jon's isolation and misunderstanding.

As years pass, we meet John again - now an adult, portrayed brilliantly by Robert Aramayo. Still living at home, jobless, and socially withdrawn, John’s life is stalled. That changes when he reconnects with an old friend recently returned from Australia. Through this friendship, John meets Dottie, played by Maxine Peake - a compassionate mental health nurse who sees him, not his condition. Rather than trying to restrain or “fix” his tics, she accepts them, and him.

She invites John to move in with her family, offering him stability, understanding, and hope.

Encouraged to live life on his own terms, John begins to flourish. He finds work, builds confidence, and forms an unlikely but heartfelt bond with community centre manager Tommy (Peter Mullan), who gives him a chance when few others would. Surrounded by the right people, John finally begins to thrive, finding purpose in helping others with Tourette’s and teaching society to see the person behind the condition.

As Tommy wisely puts it: “I don't think Tourettes is the problem, people not knowing about Tourettes is the problem."

As storytelling goes, I Swear is British cinema at its finest. It’s a deeply human, beautifully written film that challenges prejudice and invites empathy. Beyond Tourette’s, it speaks to broader themes of neurodiversity, including autism, ADHD and the invisible struggles so often misunderstood.

Whilst it never shies away from showing how difficult life with Tourette’s can be, it also celebrates it as something powerful. Even, at times, it's a kind of superpower.

Heartfelt, hopeful, and profoundly human, I Swear is a must-see.