Review: ‘I Swear’ tells a true story of Tourette’s syndrome and someone hoping to make a change

In February at the British Academy Film Awards, there was a surprising upset: A young English performer, Robert Aramayo, the star of “I Swear,” won the award for lead actor over Leonardo DiCaprio, Ethan Hawke, Michael B. Jordan, Timothée Chalamet and Jesse Plemons. Aramayo’s portrayal of real-life Tourette’s syndrome activist John Davidson is a truly stunning turn but, ironically, the events of that evening also proved why the film is so necessary right now.

Davidson, in attendance at the BAFTAs that night, involuntarily shouted several offensive words, including a racial epithet. While the poor handling of Davidson’s outbursts by BAFTA and the BBC wasn’t ideal for anyone involved — they somehow censored a “Free Palestine” message in the broadcast but not the slur — the outrage and fallout from the event demonstrates, among other things, that Davidson’s lifelong mission to educate the wider world about his condition is ongoing and important.

In 1989, “I Swear” writer-director Kirk Jones saw the BBC television documentary “John’s Not Mad,” about the teenage Davidson and how he, his family and community dealt with his Tourette’s syndrome. The show stuck with Jones and, searching for a new film subject, he decided to make a biopic about Davidson, leveraging his own home in order to finance the film himself, without notes or input from financiers on content or casting.

Because if you’re going to make a film about Tourette’s syndrome, there’s going to be a lot of swearing in it. The film’s title is an amusing declaration of intent, but it also plays on the oath taken in a courtroom, which Davidson struggles to do during a trial in which he’s been accused of starting a bar fight. He can’t manage to get through it without several outbursts insulting the judge, but the trial is the first time in “I Swear” when we see John and his advocates achieve a breakthrough in understanding.

The first act of “I Swear,” in which tics start to present in a young, bright 14-year-old John (Scott Ellis Watson), is devastating. It’s 1983 in Galashiels, Scotland, and his involuntary movements and outbursts are seen as misbehavior, teenage rebellion, and treated in kind. He is ostracized, bullied, ridiculed, beaten. His family falls apart.

It’s a relief, then, when the film skips ahead 13 years, when John (Aramayo) and his now-single mother (Shirley Henderson) have learned to tolerate his condition. But he’s not thriving: an unemployed, heavily medicated burden. Mum enjoys the break when he spends the afternoon with an old friend, Murray (Francesco Piacentini-Smith), on a fateful day that becomes a turning point.

Murray’s mother, Dottie (Maxine Peake), a mental health nurse, welcomes John without judgment. The only time she admonishes him about his language is to scold him for apologizing too much. She takes him in, finds him a job at a community center with an endlessly understanding boss, Tommy (Peter Mullan), and continually shows up for John as he’s met with violence from the public and the state.

He’s beaten up by thugs with a crowbar for an unfortunate outburst, exploited by neighbors in the council estate and arrested, all because people don’t understand Tourette’s syndrome. His tics are not naughty mischief but an uncontrollable action. It makes for an exhausting, agonizing, anxiety-ridden existence that dictates how John exists in public. The most emotional moment in the film is simply when he’s able to quietly walk through a library, a rare occurrence.

In many ways, “I Swear” is the platonic ideal of a Sony Pictures Classics movie (the studio distributing the film in the U.S.). It’s based on an unconventional true story from recent history and set on the British Isles, with a tone that alternates between humorous and sorrowful before delivering an uplifting, humanist message with skillfully invisible filmmaking that takes a backseat to the performances. Jones has to massage a few inconvenient details and some relationships could be further fleshed out, but in cramming 40 years of life into one film, he maintains fealty to the emotional truth of the story, capably representing John’s tortured life and his desire to make things better for younger generations.

“I Swear” is a film that was made with a lot of bravery and heart. It’s an important extension of John’s advocacy, but it’s also deeply moving and very entertaining. It’s about getting comfortable with people who are different from us — and uncomfortable moments like the ones at the BAFTAs have so much potential for continued growth and understanding.

Katie Walsh is a Tribune News Service film critic.

In February at the British Academy Film Awards, there was a surprising upset: A young English performer, Robert Aramayo, the star of “I Swear,” won the award for lead actor over Leonardo DiCaprio, Ethan Hawke, Michael B. Jordan, Timothée Chalamet and Jesse Plemons. Aramayo’s portrayal of real-life Tourette’s syndrome activist John Davidson is a truly stunning turn but, ironically, the events of that evening also proved why the film is so necessary right now.

Davidson, in attendance at the BAFTAs that night, involuntarily shouted several offensive words, including a racial epithet. While the poor handling of Davidson’s outbursts by BAFTA and the BBC wasn’t ideal for anyone involved — they somehow censored a “Free Palestine” message in the broadcast but not the slur — the outrage and fallout from the event demonstrates, among other things, that Davidson’s lifelong mission to educate the wider world about his condition is ongoing and important.

In 1989, “I Swear” writer-director Kirk Jones saw the BBC television documentary “John’s Not Mad,” about the teenage Davidson and how he, his family and community dealt with his Tourette’s syndrome. The show stuck with Jones and, searching for a new film subject, he decided to make a biopic about Davidson, leveraging his own home in order to finance the film himself, without notes or input from financiers on content or casting.

Because if you’re going to make a film about Tourette’s syndrome, there’s going to be a lot of swearing in it. The film’s title is an amusing declaration of intent, but it also plays on the oath taken in a courtroom, which Davidson struggles to do during a trial in which he’s been accused of starting a bar fight. He can’t manage to get through it without several outbursts insulting the judge, but the trial is the first time in “I Swear” when we see John and his advocates achieve a breakthrough in understanding.

The first act of “I Swear,” in which tics start to present in a young, bright 14-year-old John (Scott Ellis Watson), is devastating. It’s 1983 in Galashiels, Scotland, and his involuntary movements and outbursts are seen as misbehavior, teenage rebellion, and treated in kind. He is ostracized, bullied, ridiculed, beaten. His family falls apart.

It’s a relief, then, when the film skips ahead 13 years, when John (Aramayo) and his now-single mother (Shirley Henderson) have learned to tolerate his condition. But he’s not thriving: an unemployed, heavily medicated burden. Mum enjoys the break when he spends the afternoon with an old friend, Murray (Francesco Piacentini-Smith), on a fateful day that becomes a turning point.

Murray’s mother, Dottie (Maxine Peake), a mental health nurse, welcomes John without judgment. The only time she admonishes him about his language is to scold him for apologizing too much. She takes him in, finds him a job at a community center with an endlessly understanding boss, Tommy (Peter Mullan), and continually shows up for John as he’s met with violence from the public and the state.

He’s beaten up by thugs with a crowbar for an unfortunate outburst, exploited by neighbors in the council estate and arrested, all because people don’t understand Tourette’s syndrome. His tics are not naughty mischief but an uncontrollable action. It makes for an exhausting, agonizing, anxiety-ridden existence that dictates how John exists in public. The most emotional moment in the film is simply when he’s able to quietly walk through a library, a rare occurrence.

In many ways, “I Swear” is the platonic ideal of a Sony Pictures Classics movie (the studio distributing the film in the U.S.). It’s based on an unconventional true story from recent history and set on the British Isles, with a tone that alternates between humorous and sorrowful before delivering an uplifting, humanist message with skillfully invisible filmmaking that takes a backseat to the performances. Jones has to massage a few inconvenient details and some relationships could be further fleshed out, but in cramming 40 years of life into one film, he maintains fealty to the emotional truth of the story, capably representing John’s tortured life and his desire to make things better for younger generations.

“I Swear” is a film that was made with a lot of bravery and heart. It’s an important extension of John’s advocacy, but it’s also deeply moving and very entertaining. It’s about getting comfortable with people who are different from us — and uncomfortable moments like the ones at the BAFTAs have so much potential for continued growth and understanding.

Katie Walsh is a Tribune News Service film critic.

In February at the British Academy Film Awards, there was a surprising upset: A young English performer, Robert Aramayo, the star of “I Swear,” won the award for lead actor over Leonardo DiCaprio, Ethan Hawke, Michael B. Jordan, Timothée Chalamet and Jesse Plemons. Aramayo’s portrayal of real-life Tourette’s syndrome activist John Davidson is a truly stunning turn but, ironically, the events of that evening also proved why the film is so necessary right now.

Davidson, in attendance at the BAFTAs that night, involuntarily shouted several offensive words, including a racial epithet. While the poor handling of Davidson’s outbursts by BAFTA and the BBC wasn’t ideal for anyone involved — they somehow censored a “Free Palestine” message in the broadcast but not the slur — the outrage and fallout from the event demonstrates, among other things, that Davidson’s lifelong mission to educate the wider world about his condition is ongoing and important.

In 1989, “I Swear” writer-director Kirk Jones saw the BBC television documentary “John’s Not Mad,” about the teenage Davidson and how he, his family and community dealt with his Tourette’s syndrome. The show stuck with Jones and, searching for a new film subject, he decided to make a biopic about Davidson, leveraging his own home in order to finance the film himself, without notes or input from financiers on content or casting.

Because if you’re going to make a film about Tourette’s syndrome, there’s going to be a lot of swearing in it. The film’s title is an amusing declaration of intent, but it also plays on the oath taken in a courtroom, which Davidson struggles to do during a trial in which he’s been accused of starting a bar fight. He can’t manage to get through it without several outbursts insulting the judge, but the trial is the first time in “I Swear” when we see John and his advocates achieve a breakthrough in understanding.

The first act of “I Swear,” in which tics start to present in a young, bright 14-year-old John (Scott Ellis Watson), is devastating. It’s 1983 in Galashiels, Scotland, and his involuntary movements and outbursts are seen as misbehavior, teenage rebellion, and treated in kind. He is ostracized, bullied, ridiculed, beaten. His family falls apart.

It’s a relief, then, when the film skips ahead 13 years, when John (Aramayo) and his now-single mother (Shirley Henderson) have learned to tolerate his condition. But he’s not thriving: an unemployed, heavily medicated burden. Mum enjoys the break when he spends the afternoon with an old friend, Murray (Francesco Piacentini-Smith), on a fateful day that becomes a turning point.

Murray’s mother, Dottie (Maxine Peake), a mental health nurse, welcomes John without judgment. The only time she admonishes him about his language is to scold him for apologizing too much. She takes him in, finds him a job at a community center with an endlessly understanding boss, Tommy (Peter Mullan), and continually shows up for John as he’s met with violence from the public and the state.

He’s beaten up by thugs with a crowbar for an unfortunate outburst, exploited by neighbors in the council estate and arrested, all because people don’t understand Tourette’s syndrome. His tics are not naughty mischief but an uncontrollable action. It makes for an exhausting, agonizing, anxiety-ridden existence that dictates how John exists in public. The most emotional moment in the film is simply when he’s able to quietly walk through a library, a rare occurrence.

In many ways, “I Swear” is the platonic ideal of a Sony Pictures Classics movie (the studio distributing the film in the U.S.). It’s based on an unconventional true story from recent history and set on the British Isles, with a tone that alternates between humorous and sorrowful before delivering an uplifting, humanist message with skillfully invisible filmmaking that takes a backseat to the performances. Jones has to massage a few inconvenient details and some relationships could be further fleshed out, but in cramming 40 years of life into one film, he maintains fealty to the emotional truth of the story, capably representing John’s tortured life and his desire to make things better for younger generations.

“I Swear” is a film that was made with a lot of bravery and heart. It’s an important extension of John’s advocacy, but it’s also deeply moving and very entertaining. It’s about getting comfortable with people who are different from us — and uncomfortable moments like the ones at the BAFTAs have so much potential for continued growth and understanding.

Katie Walsh is a Tribune News Service film critic.

In February at the British Academy Film Awards, there was a surprising upset: A young English performer, Robert Aramayo, the star of “I Swear,” won the award for lead actor over Leonardo DiCaprio, Ethan Hawke, Michael B. Jordan, Timothée Chalamet and Jesse Plemons. Aramayo’s portrayal of real-life Tourette’s syndrome activist John Davidson is a truly stunning turn but, ironically, the events of that evening also proved why the film is so necessary right now.

Davidson, in attendance at the BAFTAs that night, involuntarily shouted several offensive words, including a racial epithet. While the poor handling of Davidson’s outbursts by BAFTA and the BBC wasn’t ideal for anyone involved — they somehow censored a “Free Palestine” message in the broadcast but not the slur — the outrage and fallout from the event demonstrates, among other things, that Davidson’s lifelong mission to educate the wider world about his condition is ongoing and important.

In 1989, “I Swear” writer-director Kirk Jones saw the BBC television documentary “John’s Not Mad,” about the teenage Davidson and how he, his family and community dealt with his Tourette’s syndrome. The show stuck with Jones and, searching for a new film subject, he decided to make a biopic about Davidson, leveraging his own home in order to finance the film himself, without notes or input from financiers on content or casting.

Because if you’re going to make a film about Tourette’s syndrome, there’s going to be a lot of swearing in it. The film’s title is an amusing declaration of intent, but it also plays on the oath taken in a courtroom, which Davidson struggles to do during a trial in which he’s been accused of starting a bar fight. He can’t manage to get through it without several outbursts insulting the judge, but the trial is the first time in “I Swear” when we see John and his advocates achieve a breakthrough in understanding.

The first act of “I Swear,” in which tics start to present in a young, bright 14-year-old John (Scott Ellis Watson), is devastating. It’s 1983 in Galashiels, Scotland, and his involuntary movements and outbursts are seen as misbehavior, teenage rebellion, and treated in kind. He is ostracized, bullied, ridiculed, beaten. His family falls apart.

It’s a relief, then, when the film skips ahead 13 years, when John (Aramayo) and his now-single mother (Shirley Henderson) have learned to tolerate his condition. But he’s not thriving: an unemployed, heavily medicated burden. Mum enjoys the break when he spends the afternoon with an old friend, Murray (Francesco Piacentini-Smith), on a fateful day that becomes a turning point.

Murray’s mother, Dottie (Maxine Peake), a mental health nurse, welcomes John without judgment. The only time she admonishes him about his language is to scold him for apologizing too much. She takes him in, finds him a job at a community center with an endlessly understanding boss, Tommy (Peter Mullan), and continually shows up for John as he’s met with violence from the public and the state.

He’s beaten up by thugs with a crowbar for an unfortunate outburst, exploited by neighbors in the council estate and arrested, all because people don’t understand Tourette’s syndrome. His tics are not naughty mischief but an uncontrollable action. It makes for an exhausting, agonizing, anxiety-ridden existence that dictates how John exists in public. The most emotional moment in the film is simply when he’s able to quietly walk through a library, a rare occurrence.

In many ways, “I Swear” is the platonic ideal of a Sony Pictures Classics movie (the studio distributing the film in the U.S.). It’s based on an unconventional true story from recent history and set on the British Isles, with a tone that alternates between humorous and sorrowful before delivering an uplifting, humanist message with skillfully invisible filmmaking that takes a backseat to the performances. Jones has to massage a few inconvenient details and some relationships could be further fleshed out, but in cramming 40 years of life into one film, he maintains fealty to the emotional truth of the story, capably representing John’s tortured life and his desire to make things better for younger generations.

“I Swear” is a film that was made with a lot of bravery and heart. It’s an important extension of John’s advocacy, but it’s also deeply moving and very entertaining. It’s about getting comfortable with people who are different from us — and uncomfortable moments like the ones at the BAFTAs have so much potential for continued growth and understanding.

Katie Walsh is a Tribune News Service film critic.

In February at the British Academy Film Awards, there was a surprising upset: A young English performer, Robert Aramayo, the star of “I Swear,” won the award for lead actor over Leonardo DiCaprio, Ethan Hawke, Michael B. Jordan, Timothée Chalamet and Jesse Plemons. Aramayo’s portrayal of real-life Tourette’s syndrome activist John Davidson is a truly stunning turn but, ironically, the events of that evening also proved why the film is so necessary right now.

Davidson, in attendance at the BAFTAs that night, involuntarily shouted several offensive words, including a racial epithet. While the poor handling of Davidson’s outbursts by BAFTA and the BBC wasn’t ideal for anyone involved — they somehow censored a “Free Palestine” message in the broadcast but not the slur — the outrage and fallout from the event demonstrates, among other things, that Davidson’s lifelong mission to educate the wider world about his condition is ongoing and important.

In 1989, “I Swear” writer-director Kirk Jones saw the BBC television documentary “John’s Not Mad,” about the teenage Davidson and how he, his family and community dealt with his Tourette’s syndrome. The show stuck with Jones and, searching for a new film subject, he decided to make a biopic about Davidson, leveraging his own home in order to finance the film himself, without notes or input from financiers on content or casting.

Because if you’re going to make a film about Tourette’s syndrome, there’s going to be a lot of swearing in it. The film’s title is an amusing declaration of intent, but it also plays on the oath taken in a courtroom, which Davidson struggles to do during a trial in which he’s been accused of starting a bar fight. He can’t manage to get through it without several outbursts insulting the judge, but the trial is the first time in “I Swear” when we see John and his advocates achieve a breakthrough in understanding.

The first act of “I Swear,” in which tics start to present in a young, bright 14-year-old John (Scott Ellis Watson), is devastating. It’s 1983 in Galashiels, Scotland, and his involuntary movements and outbursts are seen as misbehavior, teenage rebellion, and treated in kind. He is ostracized, bullied, ridiculed, beaten. His family falls apart.

It’s a relief, then, when the film skips ahead 13 years, when John (Aramayo) and his now-single mother (Shirley Henderson) have learned to tolerate his condition. But he’s not thriving: an unemployed, heavily medicated burden. Mum enjoys the break when he spends the afternoon with an old friend, Murray (Francesco Piacentini-Smith), on a fateful day that becomes a turning point.

Murray’s mother, Dottie (Maxine Peake), a mental health nurse, welcomes John without judgment. The only time she admonishes him about his language is to scold him for apologizing too much. She takes him in, finds him a job at a community center with an endlessly understanding boss, Tommy (Peter Mullan), and continually shows up for John as he’s met with violence from the public and the state.

He’s beaten up by thugs with a crowbar for an unfortunate outburst, exploited by neighbors in the council estate and arrested, all because people don’t understand Tourette’s syndrome. His tics are not naughty mischief but an uncontrollable action. It makes for an exhausting, agonizing, anxiety-ridden existence that dictates how John exists in public. The most emotional moment in the film is simply when he’s able to quietly walk through a library, a rare occurrence.

In many ways, “I Swear” is the platonic ideal of a Sony Pictures Classics movie (the studio distributing the film in the U.S.). It’s based on an unconventional true story from recent history and set on the British Isles, with a tone that alternates between humorous and sorrowful before delivering an uplifting, humanist message with skillfully invisible filmmaking that takes a backseat to the performances. Jones has to massage a few inconvenient details and some relationships could be further fleshed out, but in cramming 40 years of life into one film, he maintains fealty to the emotional truth of the story, capably representing John’s tortured life and his desire to make things better for younger generations.

“I Swear” is a film that was made with a lot of bravery and heart. It’s an important extension of John’s advocacy, but it’s also deeply moving and very entertaining. It’s about getting comfortable with people who are different from us — and uncomfortable moments like the ones at the BAFTAs have so much potential for continued growth and understanding.

Katie Walsh is a Tribune News Service film critic.

In February at the British Academy Film Awards, there was a surprising upset: A young English performer, Robert Aramayo, the star of “I Swear,” won the award for lead actor over Leonardo DiCaprio, Ethan Hawke, Michael B. Jordan, Timothée Chalamet and Jesse Plemons. Aramayo’s portrayal of real-life Tourette’s syndrome activist John Davidson is a truly stunning turn but, ironically, the events of that evening also proved why the film is so necessary right now.

Davidson, in attendance at the BAFTAs that night, involuntarily shouted several offensive words, including a racial epithet. While the poor handling of Davidson’s outbursts by BAFTA and the BBC wasn’t ideal for anyone involved — they somehow censored a “Free Palestine” message in the broadcast but not the slur — the outrage and fallout from the event demonstrates, among other things, that Davidson’s lifelong mission to educate the wider world about his condition is ongoing and important.

In 1989, “I Swear” writer-director Kirk Jones saw the BBC television documentary “John’s Not Mad,” about the teenage Davidson and how he, his family and community dealt with his Tourette’s syndrome. The show stuck with Jones and, searching for a new film subject, he decided to make a biopic about Davidson, leveraging his own home in order to finance the film himself, without notes or input from financiers on content or casting.

Because if you’re going to make a film about Tourette’s syndrome, there’s going to be a lot of swearing in it. The film’s title is an amusing declaration of intent, but it also plays on the oath taken in a courtroom, which Davidson struggles to do during a trial in which he’s been accused of starting a bar fight. He can’t manage to get through it without several outbursts insulting the judge, but the trial is the first time in “I Swear” when we see John and his advocates achieve a breakthrough in understanding.

The first act of “I Swear,” in which tics start to present in a young, bright 14-year-old John (Scott Ellis Watson), is devastating. It’s 1983 in Galashiels, Scotland, and his involuntary movements and outbursts are seen as misbehavior, teenage rebellion, and treated in kind. He is ostracized, bullied, ridiculed, beaten. His family falls apart.

It’s a relief, then, when the film skips ahead 13 years, when John (Aramayo) and his now-single mother (Shirley Henderson) have learned to tolerate his condition. But he’s not thriving: an unemployed, heavily medicated burden. Mum enjoys the break when he spends the afternoon with an old friend, Murray (Francesco Piacentini-Smith), on a fateful day that becomes a turning point.

Murray’s mother, Dottie (Maxine Peake), a mental health nurse, welcomes John without judgment. The only time she admonishes him about his language is to scold him for apologizing too much. She takes him in, finds him a job at a community center with an endlessly understanding boss, Tommy (Peter Mullan), and continually shows up for John as he’s met with violence from the public and the state.

He’s beaten up by thugs with a crowbar for an unfortunate outburst, exploited by neighbors in the council estate and arrested, all because people don’t understand Tourette’s syndrome. His tics are not naughty mischief but an uncontrollable action. It makes for an exhausting, agonizing, anxiety-ridden existence that dictates how John exists in public. The most emotional moment in the film is simply when he’s able to quietly walk through a library, a rare occurrence.

In many ways, “I Swear” is the platonic ideal of a Sony Pictures Classics movie (the studio distributing the film in the U.S.). It’s based on an unconventional true story from recent history and set on the British Isles, with a tone that alternates between humorous and sorrowful before delivering an uplifting, humanist message with skillfully invisible filmmaking that takes a backseat to the performances. Jones has to massage a few inconvenient details and some relationships could be further fleshed out, but in cramming 40 years of life into one film, he maintains fealty to the emotional truth of the story, capably representing John’s tortured life and his desire to make things better for younger generations.

“I Swear” is a film that was made with a lot of bravery and heart. It’s an important extension of John’s advocacy, but it’s also deeply moving and very entertaining. It’s about getting comfortable with people who are different from us — and uncomfortable moments like the ones at the BAFTAs have so much potential for continued growth and understanding.

Katie Walsh is a Tribune News Service film critic.

In February at the British Academy Film Awards, there was a surprising upset: A young English performer, Robert Aramayo, the star of “I Swear,” won the award for lead actor over Leonardo DiCaprio, Ethan Hawke, Michael B. Jordan, Timothée Chalamet and Jesse Plemons. Aramayo’s portrayal of real-life Tourette’s syndrome activist John Davidson is a truly stunning turn but, ironically, the events of that evening also proved why the film is so necessary right now.

Davidson, in attendance at the BAFTAs that night, involuntarily shouted several offensive words, including a racial epithet. While the poor handling of Davidson’s outbursts by BAFTA and the BBC wasn’t ideal for anyone involved — they somehow censored a “Free Palestine” message in the broadcast but not the slur — the outrage and fallout from the event demonstrates, among other things, that Davidson’s lifelong mission to educate the wider world about his condition is ongoing and important.

In 1989, “I Swear” writer-director Kirk Jones saw the BBC television documentary “John’s Not Mad,” about the teenage Davidson and how he, his family and community dealt with his Tourette’s syndrome. The show stuck with Jones and, searching for a new film subject, he decided to make a biopic about Davidson, leveraging his own home in order to finance the film himself, without notes or input from financiers on content or casting.

Because if you’re going to make a film about Tourette’s syndrome, there’s going to be a lot of swearing in it. The film’s title is an amusing declaration of intent, but it also plays on the oath taken in a courtroom, which Davidson struggles to do during a trial in which he’s been accused of starting a bar fight. He can’t manage to get through it without several outbursts insulting the judge, but the trial is the first time in “I Swear” when we see John and his advocates achieve a breakthrough in understanding.

The first act of “I Swear,” in which tics start to present in a young, bright 14-year-old John (Scott Ellis Watson), is devastating. It’s 1983 in Galashiels, Scotland, and his involuntary movements and outbursts are seen as misbehavior, teenage rebellion, and treated in kind. He is ostracized, bullied, ridiculed, beaten. His family falls apart.

It’s a relief, then, when the film skips ahead 13 years, when John (Aramayo) and his now-single mother (Shirley Henderson) have learned to tolerate his condition. But he’s not thriving: an unemployed, heavily medicated burden. Mum enjoys the break when he spends the afternoon with an old friend, Murray (Francesco Piacentini-Smith), on a fateful day that becomes a turning point.

Murray’s mother, Dottie (Maxine Peake), a mental health nurse, welcomes John without judgment. The only time she admonishes him about his language is to scold him for apologizing too much. She takes him in, finds him a job at a community center with an endlessly understanding boss, Tommy (Peter Mullan), and continually shows up for John as he’s met with violence from the public and the state.

He’s beaten up by thugs with a crowbar for an unfortunate outburst, exploited by neighbors in the council estate and arrested, all because people don’t understand Tourette’s syndrome. His tics are not naughty mischief but an uncontrollable action. It makes for an exhausting, agonizing, anxiety-ridden existence that dictates how John exists in public. The most emotional moment in the film is simply when he’s able to quietly walk through a library, a rare occurrence.

In many ways, “I Swear” is the platonic ideal of a Sony Pictures Classics movie (the studio distributing the film in the U.S.). It’s based on an unconventional true story from recent history and set on the British Isles, with a tone that alternates between humorous and sorrowful before delivering an uplifting, humanist message with skillfully invisible filmmaking that takes a backseat to the performances. Jones has to massage a few inconvenient details and some relationships could be further fleshed out, but in cramming 40 years of life into one film, he maintains fealty to the emotional truth of the story, capably representing John’s tortured life and his desire to make things better for younger generations.

“I Swear” is a film that was made with a lot of bravery and heart. It’s an important extension of John’s advocacy, but it’s also deeply moving and very entertaining. It’s about getting comfortable with people who are different from us — and uncomfortable moments like the ones at the BAFTAs have so much potential for continued growth and understanding.

Katie Walsh is a Tribune News Service film critic.

In February at the British Academy Film Awards, there was a surprising upset: A young English performer, Robert Aramayo, the star of “I Swear,” won the award for lead actor over Leonardo DiCaprio, Ethan Hawke, Michael B. Jordan, Timothée Chalamet and Jesse Plemons. Aramayo’s portrayal of real-life Tourette’s syndrome activist John Davidson is a truly stunning turn but, ironically, the events of that evening also proved why the film is so necessary right now.

Davidson, in attendance at the BAFTAs that night, involuntarily shouted several offensive words, including a racial epithet. While the poor handling of Davidson’s outbursts by BAFTA and the BBC wasn’t ideal for anyone involved — they somehow censored a “Free Palestine” message in the broadcast but not the slur — the outrage and fallout from the event demonstrates, among other things, that Davidson’s lifelong mission to educate the wider world about his condition is ongoing and important.

In 1989, “I Swear” writer-director Kirk Jones saw the BBC television documentary “John’s Not Mad,” about the teenage Davidson and how he, his family and community dealt with his Tourette’s syndrome. The show stuck with Jones and, searching for a new film subject, he decided to make a biopic about Davidson, leveraging his own home in order to finance the film himself, without notes or input from financiers on content or casting.

Because if you’re going to make a film about Tourette’s syndrome, there’s going to be a lot of swearing in it. The film’s title is an amusing declaration of intent, but it also plays on the oath taken in a courtroom, which Davidson struggles to do during a trial in which he’s been accused of starting a bar fight. He can’t manage to get through it without several outbursts insulting the judge, but the trial is the first time in “I Swear” when we see John and his advocates achieve a breakthrough in understanding.

The first act of “I Swear,” in which tics start to present in a young, bright 14-year-old John (Scott Ellis Watson), is devastating. It’s 1983 in Galashiels, Scotland, and his involuntary movements and outbursts are seen as misbehavior, teenage rebellion, and treated in kind. He is ostracized, bullied, ridiculed, beaten. His family falls apart.

It’s a relief, then, when the film skips ahead 13 years, when John (Aramayo) and his now-single mother (Shirley Henderson) have learned to tolerate his condition. But he’s not thriving: an unemployed, heavily medicated burden. Mum enjoys the break when he spends the afternoon with an old friend, Murray (Francesco Piacentini-Smith), on a fateful day that becomes a turning point.

Murray’s mother, Dottie (Maxine Peake), a mental health nurse, welcomes John without judgment. The only time she admonishes him about his language is to scold him for apologizing too much. She takes him in, finds him a job at a community center with an endlessly understanding boss, Tommy (Peter Mullan), and continually shows up for John as he’s met with violence from the public and the state.

He’s beaten up by thugs with a crowbar for an unfortunate outburst, exploited by neighbors in the council estate and arrested, all because people don’t understand Tourette’s syndrome. His tics are not naughty mischief but an uncontrollable action. It makes for an exhausting, agonizing, anxiety-ridden existence that dictates how John exists in public. The most emotional moment in the film is simply when he’s able to quietly walk through a library, a rare occurrence.

In many ways, “I Swear” is the platonic ideal of a Sony Pictures Classics movie (the studio distributing the film in the U.S.). It’s based on an unconventional true story from recent history and set on the British Isles, with a tone that alternates between humorous and sorrowful before delivering an uplifting, humanist message with skillfully invisible filmmaking that takes a backseat to the performances. Jones has to massage a few inconvenient details and some relationships could be further fleshed out, but in cramming 40 years of life into one film, he maintains fealty to the emotional truth of the story, capably representing John’s tortured life and his desire to make things better for younger generations.

“I Swear” is a film that was made with a lot of bravery and heart. It’s an important extension of John’s advocacy, but it’s also deeply moving and very entertaining. It’s about getting comfortable with people who are different from us — and uncomfortable moments like the ones at the BAFTAs have so much potential for continued growth and understanding.

Katie Walsh is a Tribune News Service film critic.

In February at the British Academy Film Awards, there was a surprising upset: A young English performer, Robert Aramayo, the star of “I Swear,” won the award for lead actor over Leonardo DiCaprio, Ethan Hawke, Michael B. Jordan, Timothée Chalamet and Jesse Plemons. Aramayo’s portrayal of real-life Tourette’s syndrome activist John Davidson is a truly stunning turn but, ironically, the events of that evening also proved why the film is so necessary right now.

Davidson, in attendance at the BAFTAs that night, involuntarily shouted several offensive words, including a racial epithet. While the poor handling of Davidson’s outbursts by BAFTA and the BBC wasn’t ideal for anyone involved — they somehow censored a “Free Palestine” message in the broadcast but not the slur — the outrage and fallout from the event demonstrates, among other things, that Davidson’s lifelong mission to educate the wider world about his condition is ongoing and important.

In 1989, “I Swear” writer-director Kirk Jones saw the BBC television documentary “John’s Not Mad,” about the teenage Davidson and how he, his family and community dealt with his Tourette’s syndrome. The show stuck with Jones and, searching for a new film subject, he decided to make a biopic about Davidson, leveraging his own home in order to finance the film himself, without notes or input from financiers on content or casting.

Because if you’re going to make a film about Tourette’s syndrome, there’s going to be a lot of swearing in it. The film’s title is an amusing declaration of intent, but it also plays on the oath taken in a courtroom, which Davidson struggles to do during a trial in which he’s been accused of starting a bar fight. He can’t manage to get through it without several outbursts insulting the judge, but the trial is the first time in “I Swear” when we see John and his advocates achieve a breakthrough in understanding.

The first act of “I Swear,” in which tics start to present in a young, bright 14-year-old John (Scott Ellis Watson), is devastating. It’s 1983 in Galashiels, Scotland, and his involuntary movements and outbursts are seen as misbehavior, teenage rebellion, and treated in kind. He is ostracized, bullied, ridiculed, beaten. His family falls apart.

It’s a relief, then, when the film skips ahead 13 years, when John (Aramayo) and his now-single mother (Shirley Henderson) have learned to tolerate his condition. But he’s not thriving: an unemployed, heavily medicated burden. Mum enjoys the break when he spends the afternoon with an old friend, Murray (Francesco Piacentini-Smith), on a fateful day that becomes a turning point.

Murray’s mother, Dottie (Maxine Peake), a mental health nurse, welcomes John without judgment. The only time she admonishes him about his language is to scold him for apologizing too much. She takes him in, finds him a job at a community center with an endlessly understanding boss, Tommy (Peter Mullan), and continually shows up for John as he’s met with violence from the public and the state.

He’s beaten up by thugs with a crowbar for an unfortunate outburst, exploited by neighbors in the council estate and arrested, all because people don’t understand Tourette’s syndrome. His tics are not naughty mischief but an uncontrollable action. It makes for an exhausting, agonizing, anxiety-ridden existence that dictates how John exists in public. The most emotional moment in the film is simply when he’s able to quietly walk through a library, a rare occurrence.

In many ways, “I Swear” is the platonic ideal of a Sony Pictures Classics movie (the studio distributing the film in the U.S.). It’s based on an unconventional true story from recent history and set on the British Isles, with a tone that alternates between humorous and sorrowful before delivering an uplifting, humanist message with skillfully invisible filmmaking that takes a backseat to the performances. Jones has to massage a few inconvenient details and some relationships could be further fleshed out, but in cramming 40 years of life into one film, he maintains fealty to the emotional truth of the story, capably representing John’s tortured life and his desire to make things better for younger generations.

“I Swear” is a film that was made with a lot of bravery and heart. It’s an important extension of John’s advocacy, but it’s also deeply moving and very entertaining. It’s about getting comfortable with people who are different from us — and uncomfortable moments like the ones at the BAFTAs have so much potential for continued growth and understanding.

Katie Walsh is a Tribune News Service film critic.

In February at the British Academy Film Awards, there was a surprising upset: A young English performer, Robert Aramayo, the star of “I Swear,” won the award for lead actor over Leonardo DiCaprio, Ethan Hawke, Michael B. Jordan, Timothée Chalamet and Jesse Plemons. Aramayo’s portrayal of real-life Tourette’s syndrome activist John Davidson is a truly stunning turn but, ironically, the events of that evening also proved why the film is so necessary right now.

Davidson, in attendance at the BAFTAs that night, involuntarily shouted several offensive words, including a racial epithet. While the poor handling of Davidson’s outbursts by BAFTA and the BBC wasn’t ideal for anyone involved — they somehow censored a “Free Palestine” message in the broadcast but not the slur — the outrage and fallout from the event demonstrates, among other things, that Davidson’s lifelong mission to educate the wider world about his condition is ongoing and important.

In 1989, “I Swear” writer-director Kirk Jones saw the BBC television documentary “John’s Not Mad,” about the teenage Davidson and how he, his family and community dealt with his Tourette’s syndrome. The show stuck with Jones and, searching for a new film subject, he decided to make a biopic about Davidson, leveraging his own home in order to finance the film himself, without notes or input from financiers on content or casting.

Because if you’re going to make a film about Tourette’s syndrome, there’s going to be a lot of swearing in it. The film’s title is an amusing declaration of intent, but it also plays on the oath taken in a courtroom, which Davidson struggles to do during a trial in which he’s been accused of starting a bar fight. He can’t manage to get through it without several outbursts insulting the judge, but the trial is the first time in “I Swear” when we see John and his advocates achieve a breakthrough in understanding.

The first act of “I Swear,” in which tics start to present in a young, bright 14-year-old John (Scott Ellis Watson), is devastating. It’s 1983 in Galashiels, Scotland, and his involuntary movements and outbursts are seen as misbehavior, teenage rebellion, and treated in kind. He is ostracized, bullied, ridiculed, beaten. His family falls apart.

It’s a relief, then, when the film skips ahead 13 years, when John (Aramayo) and his now-single mother (Shirley Henderson) have learned to tolerate his condition. But he’s not thriving: an unemployed, heavily medicated burden. Mum enjoys the break when he spends the afternoon with an old friend, Murray (Francesco Piacentini-Smith), on a fateful day that becomes a turning point.

Murray’s mother, Dottie (Maxine Peake), a mental health nurse, welcomes John without judgment. The only time she admonishes him about his language is to scold him for apologizing too much. She takes him in, finds him a job at a community center with an endlessly understanding boss, Tommy (Peter Mullan), and continually shows up for John as he’s met with violence from the public and the state.

He’s beaten up by thugs with a crowbar for an unfortunate outburst, exploited by neighbors in the council estate and arrested, all because people don’t understand Tourette’s syndrome. His tics are not naughty mischief but an uncontrollable action. It makes for an exhausting, agonizing, anxiety-ridden existence that dictates how John exists in public. The most emotional moment in the film is simply when he’s able to quietly walk through a library, a rare occurrence.

In many ways, “I Swear” is the platonic ideal of a Sony Pictures Classics movie (the studio distributing the film in the U.S.). It’s based on an unconventional true story from recent history and set on the British Isles, with a tone that alternates between humorous and sorrowful before delivering an uplifting, humanist message with skillfully invisible filmmaking that takes a backseat to the performances. Jones has to massage a few inconvenient details and some relationships could be further fleshed out, but in cramming 40 years of life into one film, he maintains fealty to the emotional truth of the story, capably representing John’s tortured life and his desire to make things better for younger generations.

“I Swear” is a film that was made with a lot of bravery and heart. It’s an important extension of John’s advocacy, but it’s also deeply moving and very entertaining. It’s about getting comfortable with people who are different from us — and uncomfortable moments like the ones at the BAFTAs have so much potential for continued growth and understanding.

Katie Walsh is a Tribune News Service film critic.

In February at the British Academy Film Awards, there was a surprising upset: A young English performer, Robert Aramayo, the star of “I Swear,” won the award for lead actor over Leonardo DiCaprio, Ethan Hawke, Michael B. Jordan, Timothée Chalamet and Jesse Plemons. Aramayo’s portrayal of real-life Tourette’s syndrome activist John Davidson is a truly stunning turn but, ironically, the events of that evening also proved why the film is so necessary right now.

Davidson, in attendance at the BAFTAs that night, involuntarily shouted several offensive words, including a racial epithet. While the poor handling of Davidson’s outbursts by BAFTA and the BBC wasn’t ideal for anyone involved — they somehow censored a “Free Palestine” message in the broadcast but not the slur — the outrage and fallout from the event demonstrates, among other things, that Davidson’s lifelong mission to educate the wider world about his condition is ongoing and important.

In 1989, “I Swear” writer-director Kirk Jones saw the BBC television documentary “John’s Not Mad,” about the teenage Davidson and how he, his family and community dealt with his Tourette’s syndrome. The show stuck with Jones and, searching for a new film subject, he decided to make a biopic about Davidson, leveraging his own home in order to finance the film himself, without notes or input from financiers on content or casting.

Because if you’re going to make a film about Tourette’s syndrome, there’s going to be a lot of swearing in it. The film’s title is an amusing declaration of intent, but it also plays on the oath taken in a courtroom, which Davidson struggles to do during a trial in which he’s been accused of starting a bar fight. He can’t manage to get through it without several outbursts insulting the judge, but the trial is the first time in “I Swear” when we see John and his advocates achieve a breakthrough in understanding.

The first act of “I Swear,” in which tics start to present in a young, bright 14-year-old John (Scott Ellis Watson), is devastating. It’s 1983 in Galashiels, Scotland, and his involuntary movements and outbursts are seen as misbehavior, teenage rebellion, and treated in kind. He is ostracized, bullied, ridiculed, beaten. His family falls apart.

It’s a relief, then, when the film skips ahead 13 years, when John (Aramayo) and his now-single mother (Shirley Henderson) have learned to tolerate his condition. But he’s not thriving: an unemployed, heavily medicated burden. Mum enjoys the break when he spends the afternoon with an old friend, Murray (Francesco Piacentini-Smith), on a fateful day that becomes a turning point.

Murray’s mother, Dottie (Maxine Peake), a mental health nurse, welcomes John without judgment. The only time she admonishes him about his language is to scold him for apologizing too much. She takes him in, finds him a job at a community center with an endlessly understanding boss, Tommy (Peter Mullan), and continually shows up for John as he’s met with violence from the public and the state.

He’s beaten up by thugs with a crowbar for an unfortunate outburst, exploited by neighbors in the council estate and arrested, all because people don’t understand Tourette’s syndrome. His tics are not naughty mischief but an uncontrollable action. It makes for an exhausting, agonizing, anxiety-ridden existence that dictates how John exists in public. The most emotional moment in the film is simply when he’s able to quietly walk through a library, a rare occurrence.

In many ways, “I Swear” is the platonic ideal of a Sony Pictures Classics movie (the studio distributing the film in the U.S.). It’s based on an unconventional true story from recent history and set on the British Isles, with a tone that alternates between humorous and sorrowful before delivering an uplifting, humanist message with skillfully invisible filmmaking that takes a backseat to the performances. Jones has to massage a few inconvenient details and some relationships could be further fleshed out, but in cramming 40 years of life into one film, he maintains fealty to the emotional truth of the story, capably representing John’s tortured life and his desire to make things better for younger generations.

“I Swear” is a film that was made with a lot of bravery and heart. It’s an important extension of John’s advocacy, but it’s also deeply moving and very entertaining. It’s about getting comfortable with people who are different from us — and uncomfortable moments like the ones at the BAFTAs have so much potential for continued growth and understanding.

Katie Walsh is a Tribune News Service film critic.

In February at the British Academy Film Awards, there was a surprising upset: A young English performer, Robert Aramayo, the star of “I Swear,” won the award for lead actor over Leonardo DiCaprio, Ethan Hawke, Michael B. Jordan, Timothée Chalamet and Jesse Plemons. Aramayo’s portrayal of real-life Tourette’s syndrome activist John Davidson is a truly stunning turn but, ironically, the events of that evening also proved why the film is so necessary right now.

Davidson, in attendance at the BAFTAs that night, involuntarily shouted several offensive words, including a racial epithet. While the poor handling of Davidson’s outbursts by BAFTA and the BBC wasn’t ideal for anyone involved — they somehow censored a “Free Palestine” message in the broadcast but not the slur — the outrage and fallout from the event demonstrates, among other things, that Davidson’s lifelong mission to educate the wider world about his condition is ongoing and important.

In 1989, “I Swear” writer-director Kirk Jones saw the BBC television documentary “John’s Not Mad,” about the teenage Davidson and how he, his family and community dealt with his Tourette’s syndrome. The show stuck with Jones and, searching for a new film subject, he decided to make a biopic about Davidson, leveraging his own home in order to finance the film himself, without notes or input from financiers on content or casting.

Because if you’re going to make a film about Tourette’s syndrome, there’s going to be a lot of swearing in it. The film’s title is an amusing declaration of intent, but it also plays on the oath taken in a courtroom, which Davidson struggles to do during a trial in which he’s been accused of starting a bar fight. He can’t manage to get through it without several outbursts insulting the judge, but the trial is the first time in “I Swear” when we see John and his advocates achieve a breakthrough in understanding.

The first act of “I Swear,” in which tics start to present in a young, bright 14-year-old John (Scott Ellis Watson), is devastating. It’s 1983 in Galashiels, Scotland, and his involuntary movements and outbursts are seen as misbehavior, teenage rebellion, and treated in kind. He is ostracized, bullied, ridiculed, beaten. His family falls apart.

It’s a relief, then, when the film skips ahead 13 years, when John (Aramayo) and his now-single mother (Shirley Henderson) have learned to tolerate his condition. But he’s not thriving: an unemployed, heavily medicated burden. Mum enjoys the break when he spends the afternoon with an old friend, Murray (Francesco Piacentini-Smith), on a fateful day that becomes a turning point.

Murray’s mother, Dottie (Maxine Peake), a mental health nurse, welcomes John without judgment. The only time she admonishes him about his language is to scold him for apologizing too much. She takes him in, finds him a job at a community center with an endlessly understanding boss, Tommy (Peter Mullan), and continually shows up for John as he’s met with violence from the public and the state.

He’s beaten up by thugs with a crowbar for an unfortunate outburst, exploited by neighbors in the council estate and arrested, all because people don’t understand Tourette’s syndrome. His tics are not naughty mischief but an uncontrollable action. It makes for an exhausting, agonizing, anxiety-ridden existence that dictates how John exists in public. The most emotional moment in the film is simply when he’s able to quietly walk through a library, a rare occurrence.

In many ways, “I Swear” is the platonic ideal of a Sony Pictures Classics movie (the studio distributing the film in the U.S.). It’s based on an unconventional true story from recent history and set on the British Isles, with a tone that alternates between humorous and sorrowful before delivering an uplifting, humanist message with skillfully invisible filmmaking that takes a backseat to the performances. Jones has to massage a few inconvenient details and some relationships could be further fleshed out, but in cramming 40 years of life into one film, he maintains fealty to the emotional truth of the story, capably representing John’s tortured life and his desire to make things better for younger generations.

“I Swear” is a film that was made with a lot of bravery and heart. It’s an important extension of John’s advocacy, but it’s also deeply moving and very entertaining. It’s about getting comfortable with people who are different from us — and uncomfortable moments like the ones at the BAFTAs have so much potential for continued growth and understanding.

Katie Walsh is a Tribune News Service film critic.

In February at the British Academy Film Awards, there was a surprising upset: A young English performer, Robert Aramayo, the star of “I Swear,” won the award for lead actor over Leonardo DiCaprio, Ethan Hawke, Michael B. Jordan, Timothée Chalamet and Jesse Plemons. Aramayo’s portrayal of real-life Tourette’s syndrome activist John Davidson is a truly stunning turn but, ironically, the events of that evening also proved why the film is so necessary right now.

Davidson, in attendance at the BAFTAs that night, involuntarily shouted several offensive words, including a racial epithet. While the poor handling of Davidson’s outbursts by BAFTA and the BBC wasn’t ideal for anyone involved — they somehow censored a “Free Palestine” message in the broadcast but not the slur — the outrage and fallout from the event demonstrates, among other things, that Davidson’s lifelong mission to educate the wider world about his condition is ongoing and important.

In 1989, “I Swear” writer-director Kirk Jones saw the BBC television documentary “John’s Not Mad,” about the teenage Davidson and how he, his family and community dealt with his Tourette’s syndrome. The show stuck with Jones and, searching for a new film subject, he decided to make a biopic about Davidson, leveraging his own home in order to finance the film himself, without notes or input from financiers on content or casting.

Because if you’re going to make a film about Tourette’s syndrome, there’s going to be a lot of swearing in it. The film’s title is an amusing declaration of intent, but it also plays on the oath taken in a courtroom, which Davidson struggles to do during a trial in which he’s been accused of starting a bar fight. He can’t manage to get through it without several outbursts insulting the judge, but the trial is the first time in “I Swear” when we see John and his advocates achieve a breakthrough in understanding.

The first act of “I Swear,” in which tics start to present in a young, bright 14-year-old John (Scott Ellis Watson), is devastating. It’s 1983 in Galashiels, Scotland, and his involuntary movements and outbursts are seen as misbehavior, teenage rebellion, and treated in kind. He is ostracized, bullied, ridiculed, beaten. His family falls apart.

It’s a relief, then, when the film skips ahead 13 years, when John (Aramayo) and his now-single mother (Shirley Henderson) have learned to tolerate his condition. But he’s not thriving: an unemployed, heavily medicated burden. Mum enjoys the break when he spends the afternoon with an old friend, Murray (Francesco Piacentini-Smith), on a fateful day that becomes a turning point.

Murray’s mother, Dottie (Maxine Peake), a mental health nurse, welcomes John without judgment. The only time she admonishes him about his language is to scold him for apologizing too much. She takes him in, finds him a job at a community center with an endlessly understanding boss, Tommy (Peter Mullan), and continually shows up for John as he’s met with violence from the public and the state.

He’s beaten up by thugs with a crowbar for an unfortunate outburst, exploited by neighbors in the council estate and arrested, all because people don’t understand Tourette’s syndrome. His tics are not naughty mischief but an uncontrollable action. It makes for an exhausting, agonizing, anxiety-ridden existence that dictates how John exists in public. The most emotional moment in the film is simply when he’s able to quietly walk through a library, a rare occurrence.

In many ways, “I Swear” is the platonic ideal of a Sony Pictures Classics movie (the studio distributing the film in the U.S.). It’s based on an unconventional true story from recent history and set on the British Isles, with a tone that alternates between humorous and sorrowful before delivering an uplifting, humanist message with skillfully invisible filmmaking that takes a backseat to the performances. Jones has to massage a few inconvenient details and some relationships could be further fleshed out, but in cramming 40 years of life into one film, he maintains fealty to the emotional truth of the story, capably representing John’s tortured life and his desire to make things better for younger generations.

“I Swear” is a film that was made with a lot of bravery and heart. It’s an important extension of John’s advocacy, but it’s also deeply moving and very entertaining. It’s about getting comfortable with people who are different from us — and uncomfortable moments like the ones at the BAFTAs have so much potential for continued growth and understanding.

Katie Walsh is a Tribune News Service film critic.

In February at the British Academy Film Awards, there was a surprising upset: A young English performer, Robert Aramayo, the star of “I Swear,” won the award for lead actor over Leonardo DiCaprio, Ethan Hawke, Michael B. Jordan, Timothée Chalamet and Jesse Plemons. Aramayo’s portrayal of real-life Tourette’s syndrome activist John Davidson is a truly stunning turn but, ironically, the events of that evening also proved why the film is so necessary right now.

Davidson, in attendance at the BAFTAs that night, involuntarily shouted several offensive words, including a racial epithet. While the poor handling of Davidson’s outbursts by BAFTA and the BBC wasn’t ideal for anyone involved — they somehow censored a “Free Palestine” message in the broadcast but not the slur — the outrage and fallout from the event demonstrates, among other things, that Davidson’s lifelong mission to educate the wider world about his condition is ongoing and important.

In 1989, “I Swear” writer-director Kirk Jones saw the BBC television documentary “John’s Not Mad,” about the teenage Davidson and how he, his family and community dealt with his Tourette’s syndrome. The show stuck with Jones and, searching for a new film subject, he decided to make a biopic about Davidson, leveraging his own home in order to finance the film himself, without notes or input from financiers on content or casting.

Because if you’re going to make a film about Tourette’s syndrome, there’s going to be a lot of swearing in it. The film’s title is an amusing declaration of intent, but it also plays on the oath taken in a courtroom, which Davidson struggles to do during a trial in which he’s been accused of starting a bar fight. He can’t manage to get through it without several outbursts insulting the judge, but the trial is the first time in “I Swear” when we see John and his advocates achieve a breakthrough in understanding.

The first act of “I Swear,” in which tics start to present in a young, bright 14-year-old John (Scott Ellis Watson), is devastating. It’s 1983 in Galashiels, Scotland, and his involuntary movements and outbursts are seen as misbehavior, teenage rebellion, and treated in kind. He is ostracized, bullied, ridiculed, beaten. His family falls apart.

It’s a relief, then, when the film skips ahead 13 years, when John (Aramayo) and his now-single mother (Shirley Henderson) have learned to tolerate his condition. But he’s not thriving: an unemployed, heavily medicated burden. Mum enjoys the break when he spends the afternoon with an old friend, Murray (Francesco Piacentini-Smith), on a fateful day that becomes a turning point.

Murray’s mother, Dottie (Maxine Peake), a mental health nurse, welcomes John without judgment. The only time she admonishes him about his language is to scold him for apologizing too much. She takes him in, finds him a job at a community center with an endlessly understanding boss, Tommy (Peter Mullan), and continually shows up for John as he’s met with violence from the public and the state.

He’s beaten up by thugs with a crowbar for an unfortunate outburst, exploited by neighbors in the council estate and arrested, all because people don’t understand Tourette’s syndrome. His tics are not naughty mischief but an uncontrollable action. It makes for an exhausting, agonizing, anxiety-ridden existence that dictates how John exists in public. The most emotional moment in the film is simply when he’s able to quietly walk through a library, a rare occurrence.

In many ways, “I Swear” is the platonic ideal of a Sony Pictures Classics movie (the studio distributing the film in the U.S.). It’s based on an unconventional true story from recent history and set on the British Isles, with a tone that alternates between humorous and sorrowful before delivering an uplifting, humanist message with skillfully invisible filmmaking that takes a backseat to the performances. Jones has to massage a few inconvenient details and some relationships could be further fleshed out, but in cramming 40 years of life into one film, he maintains fealty to the emotional truth of the story, capably representing John’s tortured life and his desire to make things better for younger generations.

“I Swear” is a film that was made with a lot of bravery and heart. It’s an important extension of John’s advocacy, but it’s also deeply moving and very entertaining. It’s about getting comfortable with people who are different from us — and uncomfortable moments like the ones at the BAFTAs have so much potential for continued growth and understanding.

Katie Walsh is a Tribune News Service film critic.

In February at the British Academy Film Awards, there was a surprising upset: A young English performer, Robert Aramayo, the star of “I Swear,” won the award for lead actor over Leonardo DiCaprio, Ethan Hawke, Michael B. Jordan, Timothée Chalamet and Jesse Plemons. Aramayo’s portrayal of real-life Tourette’s syndrome activist John Davidson is a truly stunning turn but, ironically, the events of that evening also proved why the film is so necessary right now.

Davidson, in attendance at the BAFTAs that night, involuntarily shouted several offensive words, including a racial epithet. While the poor handling of Davidson’s outbursts by BAFTA and the BBC wasn’t ideal for anyone involved — they somehow censored a “Free Palestine” message in the broadcast but not the slur — the outrage and fallout from the event demonstrates, among other things, that Davidson’s lifelong mission to educate the wider world about his condition is ongoing and important.

In 1989, “I Swear” writer-director Kirk Jones saw the BBC television documentary “John’s Not Mad,” about the teenage Davidson and how he, his family and community dealt with his Tourette’s syndrome. The show stuck with Jones and, searching for a new film subject, he decided to make a biopic about Davidson, leveraging his own home in order to finance the film himself, without notes or input from financiers on content or casting.

Because if you’re going to make a film about Tourette’s syndrome, there’s going to be a lot of swearing in it. The film’s title is an amusing declaration of intent, but it also plays on the oath taken in a courtroom, which Davidson struggles to do during a trial in which he’s been accused of starting a bar fight. He can’t manage to get through it without several outbursts insulting the judge, but the trial is the first time in “I Swear” when we see John and his advocates achieve a breakthrough in understanding.

The first act of “I Swear,” in which tics start to present in a young, bright 14-year-old John (Scott Ellis Watson), is devastating. It’s 1983 in Galashiels, Scotland, and his involuntary movements and outbursts are seen as misbehavior, teenage rebellion, and treated in kind. He is ostracized, bullied, ridiculed, beaten. His family falls apart.

It’s a relief, then, when the film skips ahead 13 years, when John (Aramayo) and his now-single mother (Shirley Henderson) have learned to tolerate his condition. But he’s not thriving: an unemployed, heavily medicated burden. Mum enjoys the break when he spends the afternoon with an old friend, Murray (Francesco Piacentini-Smith), on a fateful day that becomes a turning point.

Murray’s mother, Dottie (Maxine Peake), a mental health nurse, welcomes John without judgment. The only time she admonishes him about his language is to scold him for apologizing too much. She takes him in, finds him a job at a community center with an endlessly understanding boss, Tommy (Peter Mullan), and continually shows up for John as he’s met with violence from the public and the state.

He’s beaten up by thugs with a crowbar for an unfortunate outburst, exploited by neighbors in the council estate and arrested, all because people don’t understand Tourette’s syndrome. His tics are not naughty mischief but an uncontrollable action. It makes for an exhausting, agonizing, anxiety-ridden existence that dictates how John exists in public. The most emotional moment in the film is simply when he’s able to quietly walk through a library, a rare occurrence.

In many ways, “I Swear” is the platonic ideal of a Sony Pictures Classics movie (the studio distributing the film in the U.S.). It’s based on an unconventional true story from recent history and set on the British Isles, with a tone that alternates between humorous and sorrowful before delivering an uplifting, humanist message with skillfully invisible filmmaking that takes a backseat to the performances. Jones has to massage a few inconvenient details and some relationships could be further fleshed out, but in cramming 40 years of life into one film, he maintains fealty to the emotional truth of the story, capably representing John’s tortured life and his desire to make things better for younger generations.

“I Swear” is a film that was made with a lot of bravery and heart. It’s an important extension of John’s advocacy, but it’s also deeply moving and very entertaining. It’s about getting comfortable with people who are different from us — and uncomfortable moments like the ones at the BAFTAs have so much potential for continued growth and understanding.

Katie Walsh is a Tribune News Service film critic.

In February at the British Academy Film Awards, there was a surprising upset: A young English performer, Robert Aramayo, the star of “I Swear,” won the award for lead actor over Leonardo DiCaprio, Ethan Hawke, Michael B. Jordan, Timothée Chalamet and Jesse Plemons. Aramayo’s portrayal of real-life Tourette’s syndrome activist John Davidson is a truly stunning turn but, ironically, the events of that evening also proved why the film is so necessary right now.

Davidson, in attendance at the BAFTAs that night, involuntarily shouted several offensive words, including a racial epithet. While the poor handling of Davidson’s outbursts by BAFTA and the BBC wasn’t ideal for anyone involved — they somehow censored a “Free Palestine” message in the broadcast but not the slur — the outrage and fallout from the event demonstrates, among other things, that Davidson’s lifelong mission to educate the wider world about his condition is ongoing and important.

In 1989, “I Swear” writer-director Kirk Jones saw the BBC television documentary “John’s Not Mad,” about the teenage Davidson and how he, his family and community dealt with his Tourette’s syndrome. The show stuck with Jones and, searching for a new film subject, he decided to make a biopic about Davidson, leveraging his own home in order to finance the film himself, without notes or input from financiers on content or casting.

Because if you’re going to make a film about Tourette’s syndrome, there’s going to be a lot of swearing in it. The film’s title is an amusing declaration of intent, but it also plays on the oath taken in a courtroom, which Davidson struggles to do during a trial in which he’s been accused of starting a bar fight. He can’t manage to get through it without several outbursts insulting the judge, but the trial is the first time in “I Swear” when we see John and his advocates achieve a breakthrough in understanding.

The first act of “I Swear,” in which tics start to present in a young, bright 14-year-old John (Scott Ellis Watson), is devastating. It’s 1983 in Galashiels, Scotland, and his involuntary movements and outbursts are seen as misbehavior, teenage rebellion, and treated in kind. He is ostracized, bullied, ridiculed, beaten. His family falls apart.

It’s a relief, then, when the film skips ahead 13 years, when John (Aramayo) and his now-single mother (Shirley Henderson) have learned to tolerate his condition. But he’s not thriving: an unemployed, heavily medicated burden. Mum enjoys the break when he spends the afternoon with an old friend, Murray (Francesco Piacentini-Smith), on a fateful day that becomes a turning point.

Murray’s mother, Dottie (Maxine Peake), a mental health nurse, welcomes John without judgment. The only time she admonishes him about his language is to scold him for apologizing too much. She takes him in, finds him a job at a community center with an endlessly understanding boss, Tommy (Peter Mullan), and continually shows up for John as he’s met with violence from the public and the state.

He’s beaten up by thugs with a crowbar for an unfortunate outburst, exploited by neighbors in the council estate and arrested, all because people don’t understand Tourette’s syndrome. His tics are not naughty mischief but an uncontrollable action. It makes for an exhausting, agonizing, anxiety-ridden existence that dictates how John exists in public. The most emotional moment in the film is simply when he’s able to quietly walk through a library, a rare occurrence.

In many ways, “I Swear” is the platonic ideal of a Sony Pictures Classics movie (the studio distributing the film in the U.S.). It’s based on an unconventional true story from recent history and set on the British Isles, with a tone that alternates between humorous and sorrowful before delivering an uplifting, humanist message with skillfully invisible filmmaking that takes a backseat to the performances. Jones has to massage a few inconvenient details and some relationships could be further fleshed out, but in cramming 40 years of life into one film, he maintains fealty to the emotional truth of the story, capably representing John’s tortured life and his desire to make things better for younger generations.

“I Swear” is a film that was made with a lot of bravery and heart. It’s an important extension of John’s advocacy, but it’s also deeply moving and very entertaining. It’s about getting comfortable with people who are different from us — and uncomfortable moments like the ones at the BAFTAs have so much potential for continued growth and understanding.

Katie Walsh is a Tribune News Service film critic.