Film Review – I Swear

April 23rd, 2026 | POSTED BY Allen Almachar

It’s unfortunate that this past BAFTA Awards was tainted over the “controversy” surrounding John Davidson and the film about his life, I Swear (2025). The incident, involving Davidson (who has Tourette’s syndrome) and actors Michael B. Jordan and Delroy Lindo, created a heated and ugly online whirlwind in which people felt compelled to “choose a side.” What was supposed to be a moment celebrating inclusivity and empathy revealed how much more we still need to learn, grow, and understand one another. If you’re looking for a take on what happened at the BAFTAs, then you have come to the wrong review. I’m sure there are countless articles and social media posts to turn to. Here, we will strictly be looking at the film on its own merits and ignoring all the outside noise. 

On its own, I Swear is a grounded yet uplifting biography of a person overcoming their own “obstacles” to carve a life full of purpose, meaning, and fulfillment. Writer/director Kirk Jones tackles Davidson’s struggles with Tourette’s syndrome – a condition that causes him to involuntarily yell out obscenities, spit, and physically tick – with sensitivity and humanity. However, with such a straightforward approach, Jones also makes the film a little too safe. The narrative – which starts in the present and then flashes back to trace Davidson’s life up to that point – is a blueprint that has been used in hundreds (if not thousands) of biopics about athletes, musicians, artists, politicians, those with other medical conditions, and so on. Even Walk Hard (2007) – a satire of musical biopics – follows the same structure.

We first meet Davidson (Robert Aramayo) at a high point – accepting an award from none other than Queen Elizabeth herself. This meeting does not go without one of Davidson’s outbursts – with him yelling “F&ck the Queen!” The scene may be humorous at first, but we soon realize that these instances have been commonplace for Davidson since his youth. We jump back to him as a boy (Scott Elis Watson) – a time when he did not show any symptoms. Slowly but surely, the signs started to appear. First it was a few head twitches, then facial ticking, then full on yelling. This development caused all sorts of problems, from him losing the chance to play sports, being punished by teachers and ridiculed by classmates, to his own father abandoning the family. While his mother (Shirley Henderson) raised him as best she could, it was clear that the stress was taking a toll on her. Tourette’s syndrome isn’t just a burden for those afflicted by it; it is also a difficult adjustment for friends and family uneducated in its complexities. One of the more heartbreaking sequences has the young Davidson sitting in front of the fireplace during mealtimes to avoid spitting his food at his mother and siblings. 

The editing (Sam Sneade) follows Davidson’s journey in episodic fashion. There isn’t one major storyline that runs from beginning to end, but rather it jumps around in time covering the defining moments that have shaped who he is. Several involve the difficulties he’s had to face due to his condition, such as getting into fights at school, getting in trouble with the law, having physical altercations with strangers, etc. But there are also moments of joy and optimism, such as when he moves in with a friend whose mother (Maxine Peake) becomes a stay-at-home caregiver for him, or when he gets a job at a community center with a boss (Peter Mullan) who shows him kindness. All these elements – good and bad – builds Davidson’s character and resolve. He goes from feeling helpless to speaking with others like him and raising awareness of the community to the greater public. 

As the adult Davidson, Robert Aramayo doesn’t just successfully portray the verbal and physical requirements of Tourette’s. On an equally important level, he brings emotionality to the character so that he isn’t just doing an impression. Aramayo’s performance anchors the entire film. He inhabits Davidson with an entire range of mindsets, whether it is frustration, anxiety, fear, hope, and humor. He doesn’t make Davidson sad and depressed, even during his darkest days. Aramayo gives him personality, charm, and wit. We see this in the scene where Davidson and a friend paint the inside of a room. When Davidson impulsively runs the paintbrush across his face, his friend asks him if that was due to his ticks. To make light of the situation, Davidson intentionally does it again, painting his entire face. For as much trouble as Tourette’s syndrome has given him, Davidson still has room to have a laugh once and awhile. On the flipside, he also demonstrates the stress he goes through trying to keep his outbursts under control. A simple daily conversation without interruption becomes a personal victory. 

The supporting cast deliver strong performances as well, particularly Maxine Peake as Davidson’s mentor and healthcare provider, Dottie Achenbach. Where many others had trouble maintaining their patience with him, Dottie seems to have a never-ending wealth of it. She remains steadfast even when his more aggressive outbursts are pointed directly at her. We get a sense of this when – after Davidson apologizes for yet another flare up – she very calmly and assuredly tells him that he doesn’t need to apologize for something he has no control over. While it is understandable to apologize and explain his circumstances to strangers, it is not needed within their inner circle. Dottie created an environment where Davidson felt safe to be himself. Peake inhabits Dottie with affection and inner strength, making it easy for us to be drawn to her.

It’s too bad that the character work is paralleled by a narrative that feels inclined to skim through the major events of John Davidson’s life. It all feels a little too glossed over to make an impact. One example features a court hearing that Davidson is embroiled in, the result of an altercation he had while frequenting a late-night bar. The trial is set up as a major point of narrative tension. It certainly starts out that way, with Davidson’s ticks and mannerisms frustrating the judge. But the sequence comes and goes without much hassle. It plays out as just another highlight the film quickly moves on from. Most of the story unfolds this way. The writing/direction/editing fits in as much as possible instead of letting things breathe and play out organically. John Davidson has gone through unique and extraordinary experiences, but it’s a bit of a letdown that his biopic translates it all as a book report rather than an emotional journey of his soul.

Despite the formulaic execution, I Swear works in its earnestness. The acting is top tier. Stylistically, there is nothing egregious about it. The familiar storytelling isn’t enough to sink the entire project. Sadly, the BAFTA situation resulted in the exact opposite of what the film was striving for. There is a lot of compassion here, not just for John Davidson but for the Tourette community altogether. Hopefully those that visit this will do so with an open mind and clear eyes, willing to come to their own conclusions separate from all the uproar that surrounded it.

Featured, I Swear, John Davidson, Kirk Jones, Maxine Peake, Michael B. Jordan, Peter Mullan, Robert Aramayo, Sam Sneade, Scott Elis Watson, Shirley Henderson