‘I Swear’ Review: An Uplifting, But Difficult, Real-Life Portrait
Thanks to heartfelt performances from Robert Aramayo, Maxine Peake, and Peter Mullan, Kirk Jones’ I Swear overcomes its clear Ken Loach visual inspirations and draws an uplifting portrait of finding purpose in raising awareness of the difficulties of Tourette’s syndrome.
Ken Loach's inspirations abound in Kirk Jones’ I Swear, a long but worthy depiction of the life of Tourette’s activist John Davidson. If you told me the Kes filmmaker helmed this heartfelt, often difficult-to-watch account of Davidson’s attempts to find purpose in a world that greatly misunderstands his condition, I might believe you. Of course, the socially realistic aesthetic he has developed comes through in Jones’ lens, and Loach alum Peter Mullan also plays a significant role as the protagonist’s mentor, Tommy Trotter, with whom Davidson forms a close friendship.
Mullan won the Best Actor award at Cannes for his turn in Loach’s My Name is Joe, and it’s only fitting that the actor portraying Davidson, Robert Aramayo, also wins a significant award for his turn in the decade’s most obvious Loach ripoff. Of course, The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power fans will undoubtedly examine Aramayo and Mullan’s camaraderie in this film as a reunion of sorts between Elrond and King Durin III, but there’s something so deeply human about their portrayals that immediately makes both Davidson and Trotter attachable.
Davidson developed Tourette’s Syndrome at the age of 12, while on the cusp of potentially changing his life as a highly talented football goalie. Tics started out of the blue, until they became too much for his mother (Shirley Henderson) and his father (Steven Cree) to bear, causing frictions in the family even many years after John received an official medical diagnosis.
Many years later, John is still living with his mother, but their entire family has moved out of their household. At the supermarket, he rekindles with an old friend, Murray (Francesco Piacentini-Smith), whose mother, Dottie (Maxine Peake) invites John for dinner. Suffice it to say, with his involuntary tics, it doesn’t go well, but Dottie vows to help John find employment with his Tourette’s and raise awareness on a disability that few know what to do with it.
The first half of I Swear is incredibly difficult to watch, as John grapples with his new reality and a condition that few understood at the time. His school principal believed he was pretending, and so did the police when he eventually got into trouble for things beyond his control. His mother’s answer is to keep him sedated, while Dottie, a mental health nurse, believes he’s better off without the medication and needs to find proper support to help him be a functioning member of society.
These sections, while compassionate, err on the cliché side, especially when Jones showcases how Davidson’s tics began to develop, playing most of them for laughs rather than putting us in the character’s shoes. When we eventually get to the film’s present-day, and he yells “F*ck the queen!” in front of Elizabeth II herself, that’s funny. When he attempts to go on a date, but his involuntary tics cause him to embarrass himself and the date’s parents, that’s less humorous.
However, Jones’ lensing remains the same throughout and never fully interiorizes what John feels at crucial points in his life. It’s only when Aramayo takes over the role of the character from a younger version portrayed by Scott Ellis Watson that the film begins to take shape. The social realism that has defined Ken Loach’s work begins to seep through, and the naturalism of Aramayo’s turn is so striking that we instantly connect with John, even if his path to who he ultimately became wasn’t easy.
The movie threatens to lose itself during an overlong epilogue that potentially discusses a promising treatment for Tourette’s, but it compensates by finally shifting perspectives and making us see John enter spaces he’s always been afraid to enter for the first time. Someone with Davidson’s condition, for example, can’t enter a library, even if they know how to keep their tics at bay. What happens when John himself takes that leap? It would be foolish for me to spoil this grandiose moment, but it ranks high as the best that I Swear can offer when it’s in complete focus on the character.
Aramayo has been acting for a while, but his performance as Davidson is so profoundly moving that one might think we’re finally discovering his true talents. How he captures both John’s eccentricities and vulnerabilities in such an open manner like this doesn’t feel cheap or exploitative (as do many movies with able-bodied actors playing disabled characters frequently do). He expresses genuine reverence for Davidson, the activist, and hopes that his portrayal of the man can do justice to his gentle soul.
While his screentime is limited, Mullan’s impact on the movie can’t be overstated. Usually known for playing dark, morally complex characters, the Scottish actor’s portrayal of Tommy is marked by great sensitivity, and his light-hearted outlook on life makes us appreciate him even more. The courtroom scene, where Tommy testifies on who John is in the wake of a bar attack, is the film’s single-most uplifting section, and a perfect demonstration of Mullan’s versatility both on screen and stage.
It’s because of these two’s rock-solid bond that we begin to feel some compassion for I Swear, even if Jones doesn’t have a distinctive style of his own. None of his previous films felt like the work of an auteur (anyone remember My Big Fat Greek Wedding 2?). This latest drama, while acclaimed and deeply heartfelt, also doesn’t feel singular. One can sense how easily it attempts to emulate Ken Loach’s philosophy of filmmaking, right from the camerawork, the lack of tangible extradiegetic music, and the natural dialogue that tends to spell out to audiences what the movie is ultimately about.
Still, one can’t deny Aramayo’s transformative, BAFTA-winning performance as an activist who more than deserves his flowers, because he is still trying to make us aware that he can’t help it. To this day, people still misunderstand Tourette’s and are greatly antagonistic towards Davidson, especially after his regretful (but involuntary) racist outburst at the BAFTAs. Such public reaction demonstrates exactly what I Swear attempts to destigmatize. In that regard, Jones has absolutely succeeded in raising awareness on an issue that people still have great difficulty understanding. If only the filmmaking were a little better…