Stronger than me: a perfect blend of humor and sensitivity (review)

The true story of John Davidson, a Scotsman suffering from Tourette’s syndrome and having fought for its media coverage, told in an irresistible whirlwind of good feelings, pop songs and swear words.

Stronger than me benefited from an unexpected publicity stunt during the last night of the BAFTAs (the British Oscars), when John Davidson, the man whose story this film tells, started shouting the “N-word” at the top of his voice at two Sinners actors, Michael B. Jordan and Delroy Lindo. The public couldn’t believe their ears, and Davidson later said he was mortified that anyone would think he was racist.

If he screams nonsense, it’s “stronger than him”. I promise, I swear, as the mischievous double-meaning title of the film says – I Swear, or “I swear”. Davidson suffers from Tourette’s syndrome (and more precisely from coprolalia, these vulgar verbal tics), a neurological disorder today well known to the general public – and if we identify it so well, it is precisely thanks to the activism of Davidson, who worked all his life to publicize its symptoms.

The BAFTA incident therefore, in a certain way, continued his educational struggle. And it also resonated, in a rather dizzying way, with the film itself, which opens with an awards ceremony (in this case, a decoration given to Davidson by Elizabeth II in 2019), disrupted by an irrepressible rudeness uttered by the lucky winner: “Fuck the queen!”

Stronger Than Me is entirely contained in this intro scene, where we understand that the director Kirk Jones, an old hand in British entertainment (Vieilles canailles, Nanny McPhee…) intends to mix without blushing the “inspiring-fable-based-on-a-true-story” with the comic potential of this disorder which constantly dynamites the social order – Davidson insults the cops, the supermarket cashier and often yells “Spunk for milk!” (“Sperm instead of milk!”) at tea time.

This is the Rain Man side of Stronger than Me, which is also part of the tradition of these crowd-pleasers à la The Full Monty: stories of slices of life that are gray on paper but which, rather than weighing down your morale, makes you want to hug your row neighbor very tightly, once the lights in the room are turned back on.

The staging is intended to be effective, without affectation, almost televisual, which is not necessarily a bad word, and especially not in the land of the BBC. Kirk Jones focuses on his actors, starting with the fabulous debutant Scott Ellis Watson (who plays Davidson as a teenager, in the early 80s), in a long prologue that twists the gut, and which shows how a kid with no history suddenly sees his destiny affected by unexplained, inexplicable tics, which will ostracize him from society, and from his own family.

Flashforward ten years later, when Davidson, now played by the no less fabulous Robert Aramayo, manages to get out of his existential dilemma thanks to a few decisive meetings, including one with a social worker with a big heart like that (Peter Mullan, imperial in “Ken-Loachian” surety). With a soundtrack based on songs from Oasis and New Order which also doesn’t beat around the bush, Stronger Than Me sketches Davidson’s journey in a succession of vibrant snapshots, in an ideal blend of humor, modesty and sensitivity.

We will undoubtedly remember for a long time this scene where our hero enters a nightclub for the very first time in his life, with Alright by Supergrass as the soundtrack, and transforms an ordinary British hobby (listening to good music while ordering a pint) into a prodigious epic.

By Kirk Jones. With Robert Aramayo, Peter Mullan, Maxine Peake… Duration: 2h01. Released April 1, 2026