Films based on true stories are always a difficult prospect for audiences. While most cases are effective portrayals of real events, other “true stories” can be more fabrications. Movies like I Swear operate somewhere in the middle. I Swear follows John Davidson (BAFTA winner, Robert Aramayo), a child diagnosed with Tourette’s syndrome at age 12. The film follows Davidson’s life from initial diagnosis to his adult life as an advocate for the disorder. This includes the battle with his condition. While some people saw those effects firsthand, that battle existed internally as well. What follows is a story of perseverance, kindness, and an unfiltered look at one man’s life.
To make something clear about I Swear, audiences have seen this type of story before. This includes a kind person riddled with something that the world doesn’t understand. That is, until someone gives them a chance. It is important to say this about the film, as nothing about it is particularly surprising. In many ways, I Swear is a lesson about acceptance that many movies have told before. There’s an understandable predictability that can really deter any sort of emotional impact for viewers. Without the right tools in front of and behind the camera, the film simply cannot work. Such stories require a strong anchor to allow the film to connect with audiences.
Robert Aramayo’s performance is more than up to the task to make an impression. Not only does he earn the audience’s sympathy, but portray’s the disorder with honesty. While his ticks are vulgar and surprising, Aramayo delivers them with a tinge of pain. The ever-vulgar and vile words he speaks hide his embarrassment. Aramayo imbues this motion with real heart, clearly showing audiences that John is not a bad guy. Instead, he is riddled with something that will never allow him to live a life as one expects. It’s painful, very funny, and honest in ways that help forgive what comes next.
The problem with I Swear comes from the screenplay by writer and director Kirk Jones. Undeniably, this story puts John at the very front and center as an engaging protagonist. It’s the characters around him that are not given the same levels of depth. His mother, Heather (Shirley Henderson), exists as nothing more than a villain. She simply never understood John’s disorder, existing as a cold “mother” presence. Henderson conveys this idea, but the script never gives her a nuanced “why” behind her actions. The result of this does not just limit her depth but also makes the character never quite feel like a real person. With what is given, the performance is effective, but the script leaves viewers wanting more.
Similar sentiments can be drawn from the performances of those who want to help John. This includes Dottie (Maxine Peake), as the mother of one of John’s school friends, who is a mental health nurse. As the only one who understands his disability, Peak plays Dottie as the piece’s humanity. Equal parts funny and emotional, the character is effective. The problem is that, similarly to Peake, the character is written as nothing more than an ally to John. She cares about him and will do whatever she can for him, which is undeniably heartwarming. The character is given slightly more depth, which helps as the story progresses and gives Peak more to play emotionally. Yet, it’s hard to wonder what one or two more scenes could do to improve such depth.
The most interesting performance is Tommy (Peter Mullan), John’s eventual boss. Describing the character’s opinions about John is by no means a spoiler, but I will refrain from speaking further. What can be said is that, besides Araymo’s portrayal, Mullan really makes the most of the dialogue. Not only does he feel like a real person, but brings an honest perspective to the story that feels refreshing. There are definitely moments of cliche with the character, but still layered with a surprising humanity. At 120 minutes, it proves to be a welcome formula for success. That is particularly successful in combination with Aramayo.
While the three performances listed are archetypal, each serves a purpose. Admittedly, audiences’ mileage may vary on the execution. What has to be said is that when any of these actors are on screen together, the heart of I Swear shines bright. It’s hard to think anyone would not be touched by the humanity or tenderness on display. Director Kirk Jones realizes this, allowing those small moments to speak volumes. It’s within those moments that I was able to forgive the more familiar narrative beats.
I Swear is by no means a subtle film in its execution. The story is two hours of its heart on its sleeve, for better or worse. Given the rather straightforward narrative, it’s understandable if some viewers are not interested. What’s undeniable is that these performances give the film a genuine pulse. Robert Aramayo delivers a performance that is human above all else, with warts and all. It’s sweet, crass, sincere, and may or may not have had me shedding a tear by the time the credits rolled. The supporting performances don’t quite hit the same register, but there are enough strong moments that leave an impression. Add those ingredients together, and I Swear becomes a moving and engaging story about someone’s trials and tribulations, which is exactly what it needs to be.
I Swear is now in theaters.
Learn more about the film at the IMDB site for the title.
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