I Swear
“I Swear puts viewers right into the moral fray of big disability debates taking place today.”
Title: I Swear (2026)
Director: Kirk Jones 👨🏼🏴
Writer: Kirk Jones 👨🏼🏴
Reviewed by Li 👩🏻🇺🇸
—MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD—
Technical: 4.25/5
Based on the life of Tourette syndrome activist John Davidson (Robert Aramayo), I Swear is a feel-good, paint-by-numbers biopic. It oversimplifies things in its chase to tell a heartwarming story, such as depicting John’s mom, Heather (Shirley Henderson), as two-dimensional and cold to heighten the contrast with a friend’s empathetic mother. But Hollywood gloss aside, writer-director Kirk Jones builds on the straightforward biopic formula with clear, competent writing. Visuals are similarly unflashy but appealing and well-lit, and leading actor Aramayo gives a brilliant performance of Davidson’s brilliant life story.
Gender: 3.5/5
Does it pass the Bechdel Test? NOPE
I Swear sticks closely to its male lead, but women have key roles. As mentioned above, Heather isn’t painted in a flattering light—something that writer Alison Wilde argues unfairly places blame on John’s mom, as documentary footage of the Davidson family shows otherwise. Dottie, on the other hand, is warmly presented as the ideal caregiver. Thanks to her career background in mental health, Dottie essentially saves John from a lifetime of being misunderstood and abused. Dottie perfectly balances kindness with steely encouragement, such as setting up an appointment to see a flat while giving John the final say on whether they actually go.
Heather (left) and Dottie (right)
In smaller roles, we meet John’s sisters (presented neutrally), and we see him working with various clients, most of whom are moms of kids with Tourette’s. But even though I Swear acknowledges women in its universe, it’s rare that they ever speak to one another. And when they do, their conversations always center around a man or boy, never passing the low bar of the Bechdel test.
Race: 2/5
The main cast is white, but I Swear depicts the town of Galashiels, Scotland, in the 1980s with a little racial diversity. Specifically, South Asian and Black characters have minor roles as a corner shop owner who banters with John, a footie scout, a few classmates, a solicitor, and nightclub patrons. All of these characters of color have Scottish accents, pleasantly showing that being Scottish doesn’t necessarily mean being white.
Bonus for Disability: +0.75
The film centers on John’s experience with Tourette’s and his efforts to raise awareness of the disorder. Jones doesn’t shy away from the tough stuff; he briefly depicts John’s early suicide attempt, and every time John hotly refuses to call Tourette’s a “disability,” internalized ableism is on display. I Swear also showcases how rewarding it can be to be disabled among people going through similar experiences. When John begins helping others with Tourette syndrome, he develops a sense of purpose and blossoms.
It remains sadly rare for any movie to star (and humanize) a disabled character. I Swear delivers on that front, but it doesn’t break any new ground. The movie still follows a straight white man as its leading character. Additionally, it almost exclusively portrays coprolalia (involuntary swearing), which in reality only affects 10-15% of people with Tourette’s. Coprolalia has had an outsized onscreen presence, seen in films such as Motherless Brooklyn (2019) and Front of the Class (2008), among others. This continued focus on an uncommon presentation of the disorder skews the true picture of Tourette’s in the public mind.
The film’s ending also left me with mixed feelings. I Swear shows John testing a medical device that suppresses tics, and the final scenes cut to him being effectively nondisabled and jubilantly chatting with a woman on a train. This doesn’t mean Jones handles the material poorly: Title cards neatly explain that “New technology, medication and therapies can help many living with Tourette syndrome. But the most powerful support is education, understanding and acceptance.” Still, this ending puts viewers right into the moral fray of today’s big disability debates. Is it a sign of medical progress that technology can “erase” some natural traits, such as hearing loss, body weight, or, in this case, tics? Or do new therapies erode thriving cultures by eradicating attributes deemed undesirable by the mainstream? Where’s the line? Whether it’s GLP-1s reversing the work of fat activists, or cochlear implants undermining Deaf identity, it’s an uncomfortable discussion that I Swear abruptly ends on.
Ultimately, I Swear sensitively portrays Davidson’s life. But it’s a far cry from the disability mantra “nothing about us without us.” Writer-director Jones isn’t disabled, at least not publicly. Similarly, John is played by nondisabled actor Aramayo. A small role does go to Andrea Bisset, who has Tourette’s: Bisset appears as one of John’s early clients, and the two enjoy a humorous scene where they riff and bond over shared experiences. And behind the lens, Davidson held a key role as executive producer. But if you’re looking for something fresh on the topic of Tourette’s, I Swear is more of a “previously on” recap than the new episode.
Mediaversity Grade: B- 3.50/5
I Swear doesn’t reinvent the wheel, and it still conflates coprolalia with Tourette’s, making it good-but-not-great on disability representation. Still, Jones hits that sweet spot of humor, warmth, and style, delivering a grand old time that avoids exploiting its disabled characters.
Like I Swear? Try these other uplifting titles featuring Deaf and Hard of Hearing narratives.
Moonlight Sonata: Deafness in Three Movements (2019)
CODA (2021)
Sound of Metal (2020)