Approximately 1 in every 160 children have been diagnosed with Tourette’s Syndrome in the United States, but for the United Kingdom, 160 becomes 100. For years, the country has had a nationwide understanding of the condition that the United States continues to lack, and most of that is due to John Davidson, Scottish Tourett’s activist and beloved public figure. For those whose basic understanding of Tourette’s Syndrome came from South Park or playground jokes (or yes, a recent misunderstood, well-publicized situation involving Davidson himself), the condition is less an excuse to say offensive words in public and more a life-long limitation that can only be combated with surrounding sympathy and comprehension. I Swear, the new biopic on Davidson’s life, is an attempt to not only honor its subject, but bring his story to the world. A story singularly focused on informing and educating could feel a bit stale and eat-your-vegetables, but the brilliant casting of Robert Aramayo in the lead role makes every second worth it.

Davidson (played young in the film by Scott Ellis Watson) grew up in Galashiels in Scotland with his working class family. As an adolescent, John begins to experience ticks and behaviors he can’t control. His school continuously resorts to harsh punishments and his classmates and family begin to shun him, believing there is no way he can’t just be normal. After his father walks out in his family and Davidson sadly makes an attempt to end his own life, his remaining family and few friends learn to tolerate him for the years to come. As an adult, his schoolmate friend Murray Achenbach (Francesco Piacentini-Smith) returns home from Australia to care for his ailing mother Dottie (Maxine Peake). She treats John more like a mother than his own and Davidson eventually moves in with them and becomes a member of their family. As he continues to navigate life, he scores a job at a community center, is dealt with impossible hardships and social situations, and becomes an unexpected inspiration to many, famously even being honored by the Queen herself (and shouting quite the obscenity at her, as hilariously depicted in the film’s opening scene).

Written and directed by Kirk Jones, I Swear doesn’t feel like it’s just hitting Wikipedia bullet points, it doesn’t make every supporting figure in his life feel like they don’t have their own lives or stories, it simply places us in Davidson’s shoes and analyzes the little steps he made to make a big difference and highlights the key figures that helped him on his way. Jones finds the right tone to place us in the head of its main subject, never resorting to oppressive dramatics, and often letting scenes breeze with gentle comedy and earnest sweetness. Davidson thankfully is written with enough personality and a unique sense of humor to avoid making him just a blank conduit for spotlighting his condition. The film understands the importance of being able to laugh, even when depicting a disability, and gives itself a levity that emphasizes compassion.

Yes, it can get a bit too sweet and saccharine, but what keeps this more “just a big basket of love and the type of film we need right now” than the many “it’s too saccharine, just trying to make you cry, weightless” biopics that have come before is its wonderful cast. Maxine Peake as his surrogate mother figure and nurse is a firecracker, no-BS breath of fresh air whose on-screen presence, and ability to sympathize and work with John when few else will, drapes over the film like a snug blanket. Her story of a misdiagnosis which propels a greater sense of purpose is treated with complexity and constant warmth. Peter Mullan, who plays Tommy Trotter, Davidson’s eventual employer at their local community center finds beautiful tenderness despite his growly voice and rough exterior. A delightful departure from Mullan’s more grizzly roles. The ever-reliable Shirley Henderson finds incredible depth in her brief scenes as John’s mother.

And then there’s of course Robert Aramayo, who’s BAFTA-winning performance is instantly deserved within his first few scenes as the adult John. Not only has he mastered the authenticity and frustration of his ticks, but in his moments of calm, is able to exude so much charm through his everyday observance and appreciation for the world around him. Aramayo never feels like an actor portraying the condition, which even the best performers can struggle with. His studying of the real John feels like a perfect translation and one that grabs our attention almost immediately. By the time the credits roll, I Swear feels like a sigh of relief. A hopeful, soulful declaration that your life isn’t a burden just because you’re dealt with a burden.