Earnest in its mission to explain to audiences what it’s like to have Tourette Syndrome, the neurological disorder that causes uncontrolled movements and verbal outbursts, Scotland-set biopic I Swear inevitably has the didactic quality of one those old made-for-TV dramas about, say, people with immune system diseases (The Boy in the Plastic Bubble), teen alcoholism (Sarah T. – Portrait of a Teenage Alcoholic) or dissociative identity disorder (Sybil). However, I Swear is also generously sprinkled with moments of humor, not least about the syndrome’s inherent potential for embarrassment given the subject’s tendency to cuss and utter almost subconscious thoughts involuntarily.

The film actually opens with its subject, campaigner and educator John Davidson (played by Robert Aramayo) going to a ceremony where he’s to be awarded an MBE from the late Queen Elizabeth. Unfortunately, he’s literally unable to stop himself from shouting “Fuck the Queen!” on entering the silent room. Oops.

I Swear

The Bottom Line

Sticks likably to a tried-and-tested formula.

Venue: Toronto International Film Festival (Centrepiece)
Cast: Robert Aramayo, Maxine Peake, Shirley Henderson, Peter Mullan
Director/screenwriter: Kirk Jones
2 hours 1 minute

Of course, given that the film is set mostly in the 1980s and 90s when Tourette was barely understood, we see how the condition often got Davidson into trouble, sometimes with the law and sometimes with people who simply took offense, couldn’t be mollified by his attempts to explain and reacted violently. Yet Davidson’s essential likability shines through, thanks in part to Aramayo’s endearing, guileless performance and in part to writer-director Kirk Jones’ machine-tooled script, clearly fact-checked and vetted by the film’s exec producer, the actual John Davidson himself.

Similarly, the package also gains a lot from the persuasive, empathic performances from veteran players Maxine Peake, Shirley Henderson and Peter Mullan. With a little luck and a fair wind behind it, it could catch the interest of award-bestowing bodies, in the U.K. especially, who love this kind of inclusive, high-minded, public-service storytelling.

Doggedly conventional in structure, I Swear sticks to the tried-and-tested biopic formula by opening with that aforementioned scene with the Queen, circa 2019, and then flashing back to where the story properly starts, then plowing on from there chronologically. So we go back to the mid-1980s when John (played as a young teen by Scott Ellis Watson) seemed like a perfectly ordinary 13-year-old, growing up in the town of Galashiels in the Borders region of Scotland. The eldest and the only boy, John is the apple of his working-class father’s (Steven Cree) eye, who has hopes John’s skills as a soccer goalie may get him a place on a professional team’s youth squad.

Sadly, John blows it on the field when a scout comes to watch him play because he can’t control the tics, which have just started emerging, such as rapid hand movements, twitching and spitting out food. And then there’s outbursts of coprolalia, the involuntary swearing that causes him to shout, say, “Suck my cock!” at inappropriate moments, like supper time. John’s uptight mother Heather (Henderson, last seen in Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy), freaks out and reacts by effectively punishing John, forcing him to sit in front of the fire instead of the dinner table lest he spits.

However, even when the family finally gets a diagnosis, Heather still doesn’t really understand and treats him like a shameful family secret. By the time he’s in his 20s, he’s still living at home on disability benefits, barely ever going out except to help his mum grocery shop. It’s on one of these excursions that he reconnects with former classmate Murray (Francesco Piacentini-Smith), who takes John’s tics in stride, as does Murray’s mother Dottie (Peake, in an assortment of hideous wigs crafted to make her look dowdy), who used to be a psychiatric nurse until she got a fatal cancer diagnosis.

A natural caregiver with a sly sense of humor, Dottie takes him in, welcoming him into her and husband Chris’ (David Carlyle) home. She makes John a project, determined to help him find gainful employment and therefore independence. Soon, John’s life does indeed begin to improve, especially when he gets a job working as a janitor at a local community center, supervised by crusty but kind-hearted Tommy (Mullan, getting to play a nice guy for a change), the head custodian.

Having found emotional and financial security, John starts to flourish, although there are inevitable hiccups along the way, especially when a dust-up with a random guy in a nightclub leads to an assault charge. As readers may be able to guess from knowing John is going to end up being honored by the Queen, it all works out in the end once John recognizes his inherent skill as an advocate and campaigner for others like himself. A small scene in which John gets a young girl (Andrea Bisset) with Tourette to open up to him in a car, both of them swearing like sailors even though they’re talking about painful things in their lives, is a gem and could practically be shown as a short on its own.

Best known for cuddly, family-friendly comedies such as Waking Ned Devine, Nanny McPhee and What to Expect When You’re Expecting, director Jones doesn’t exactly build up his skill set with this. The film has a sanded-down, frictionless efficiency that never distracts from the story, and knows just how to pluck at the heart strings with a sudden death or unexpected rapprochement.

Around the edges, there are a few felicitous craft touches, like the soft lighting overseen by DP James Blann, exploiting Scotland’s long summertime golden hours, and a somewhat obvious but still boppy soundtrack of period-appropriate cuts, such as ‘Blue Monday’ by New Order and ‘Stop Crying Your Heart Out’ by Oasis.