I Swear

I suppose there are bound to be some questions about whether or not this is acting or mimicry, but there’s no denying that the performance here from Robert Aramayo is truly engaging to watch. John Davidson is a confident and friendly young man from Galashiels in the Scottish Borders who might have a promising goalkeeping career looming until, at the age of 14, he develops an involuntary tic. This is swiftly followed by uncontrollable swearing and spontaneously violent gestures. His parents, whose marriage is already straining, and his teachers think he’s playing up and his school friends quickly turn into teasers and bullies. At this point, we head on a decade or so to meet a man who now knows he has Tourette Syndrome and who still lives a fairly medically and physically constrained life with his mum (a powerfully understated effort from Shirley Henderson). A trip to the supermarket with her sees him meet with old friend “Murray” (Francesco Piacentini-Smith who reminded me of the young Paul Nichols) to whom he explains a little about his condition. As luck would have it, his poorly mum “Dottie” (Maxine Peake) was formerly a mental health nurse, makes a mean spaghetti bolognese and has the patience of a saint, so she takes on the challenge of weaning him off his drugs, finding him a job and maybe even creating a psychological environment in which he might even be able to live on his own. It’s the middle task that sees him introduced to community centre caretaker “Tommy” (Peter Mullan) who takes a chance with this volatile young lad and gives him a job. As he steps out from his hitherto domestic shadow, John finds himself exposed to a society that is as unfamiliar with his condition as it is unwelcoming, even hostile, to it’s seemingly aggressive symptoms. What now ensues sees this young man work hard to not just better integrate himself into this community but also to try and help that, and the broader, community understand more about Tourette. This film combines the styles of a drama and a documentary effectively, and there is a definite chemistry between Aramayo  and both a Peake who delivers a persona that is characterful, sensitive and feisty as well as a Mullan who adopts a semi-paternal role that provides the young man with a benign source of discipline and focus. In the end, though, it’s the effort from Aramayo that has to take him firmly into BAFTA territory as he delivers this cleverly written, frequently laugh-out-loud depiction of a flawed, charismatic and thoroughly decent man who becomes determined to improve not only his own lot, but to raise awareness to help others similarly sceptically diagnosed by an anxious and ill-educated society. There are one or two scenes that are tough to watch, but in the main this is an affectionate and entertaining film that opens eyes and smiles.