Body horrors often tap into who we are and perceive ourselves to be as we watch the characters on screen change as they go through bodily transformations for the better or mutilations for the worse. The images that appear before us range from subtle to unsettling, yet, like most great horrors, are a powerful kind of social commentary with something to say.
With director Aaron Schimberg’s A Different Man, not only did I find a film that I can see myself (I have Neurofibromatosis Type-1) relating to the character’s experiences but also an exploration of what it means to exist on a larger scale.
A Different Man centers on Edward (Sebastian Stan), a struggling actor with neurofibromatosis — a genetic condition that causes changes in skin pigment and tumors on nerve tissue. The benign tumors grow under his face, causing facial disfigurements, and warrant some unwanted attention from those who do not understand his affliction — as noted by a bar patron who believes he’s seen him somewhere and a passerby who knocks on the glass window and waves at him like a zoo animal.
Edward goes through life daily, avoiding interaction, and seeks refuge in his anemic hovel of an apartment, which is on the verge of falling apart because of leaks or pest infestations. That is until he meets his new neighbor Ingrid (Renate Reinsve), a budding playwright who seemingly sees past Edward’s condition. She even offers him a part in one of her plays that she has yet to write. However, it’s a tricky friendship at best, considering Edward’s lack of social skills and questioning if Ingrid’s friendship is genuine and she is not using Edward as not some inspiration for her play.
However, Edward’s life changes when he is offered a chance to undergo a treatment that could change the way he looks or at least reduce his disfigurements. He is hesitant at first but accepts the radical procedure, which includes taking a 3D map of his face, taking pills, and having regularly scheduled appointments with his doctor to document his progress.
The result is miraculous as Edward’s face begins to peel off and he becomes a new man unrecognizable to anyone he’s come across. The change allows him to fake his own death and adopt a new identity as Guy. Years later, Guy becomes a successful real estate agent in New York. Though he’s successfully changed who he is, his past eventually catches up with him when he sees a casting call for Ingrid’s off Broadway play about his life — using his past identity and facial prosthetics that he kept before his face peeled off to play a character with facial disfigurements that forged a friendship with a neighbor whose intentions are questionable.
Everything about the production seems to be running smoothly because it is a life that Guy lived as Edward. He can match the mannerisms and conversations he’s had with Ingrid and still capture what it’s like to be an outsider through the mask. However, Guy can’t stop being his own worst enemy as he constantly criticizes and questions Ingrid’s play for its lack of authenticity or not remembering key events between her and himself correctly. But the rich irony of it all is that considering Guy has the privilege of having a handsome face and needing to use a mask to become a character, he is robbing those afflicted with neurofibromatosis of having a role that would represent their community properly. So, Guy deceives everyone into believing that he is the only one who can tell this story with such detail and nuance because he knew a guy who had the same affliction.
That’s when A Different Man starts to unravel, but not in the way you might expect. It goes from body horror to psychological thriller. As the play continues to struggle to get off the ground, Oswald (Adam Pearson), a man also afflicted with Neurofibromatosis, enters the picture and starts to offer some of his help. Oswald is the antithesis Guy. Where Guy changes his life after his metamorphosis, the charming Oswald embraces his life and doesn’t let his facial disfigurements define who he is. He confidence and self-assurance he has is something Edward lacked and Guy even lacks. Oswald is the kind of guy you’d expect to end up with the girl and has it all, plus he can sing karaoke.
Oswald’s character is necessary for a film like this as he serves as a direct contrast to Edward and Guy. There’s so much to enjoy from watching this unique dynamic full of contrasts. Oswald helps complete Edward and Guy’s story arc, while Ingrid is the one who inadvertently brings them together. Though she is the one who asks about the ethics of having an able-bodied person playing a disabled character through the use of a mask, there isn’t much else to her character than that.
Oswald’s presence is a vehicle for Guy’s obsession with a guy who came barging into his life. Guy starts to follow Oswald, stalking his every move, and starts to suspect things are out of sorts because he believes someone like him could not lead such a wonderful life. Of course, all of that anger and frustration only further isolates Guy and makes him to be a pariah.
If anything, Oswald truly deserves the part because he represents a community and doesn’t have to be ashamed of who he is or hide behind a mask. Despite being perfect for the role and making all of the suggestions that help make the play authentic to the experience, Oswald insists Edward be the lead. As a result, Guy starts to feel uncomfortable with how Ingrid hangs onto Oswald’s every word. Oswald’s presence has such an effect on Guy that Guy starts to yearn for the identity he recklessly threw away and starts to wear the mask as he shows properties to clients while also attempting to replicate Oswald’s charm. It is a decision that is ultimately his undoing in ways that’s shocking.
The one thing A Different Man does well is treating Oswald as an extraordinarily charming man with various talents that would make a regular person jealous. So much so that you become gravitate towards the personality and are less concerned with the facial disfigurements that stem from Neurofibromatosis. Unlike some films that see characters with facial disfigurements as a villain or a character to be pitied, Schimberg flips the script on those outdated tropes and sees Oswald as a character that should be celebrated because he would rather spend the time living the life he has now rather mourning the one he doesn’t. Of course, such an outlook forces Guy to reconcile with what he’s lost.
Pearson chews up the screen every time he appears and overshadows Stan’s performance to the point that Guy is the one drawing unwarranted attention to himself by begging to be pitied. Again, this plays to the idea that Guy wants what he’s lost and will do anything to get it back. But because he’s lived a life of isolation and self-loathing, he doesn’t know how to as charming or even personable as Oswald. So he does these outlandish things that make him even more of an outcast than he was before the metamorphosis. As such, it’s painful to watch Guy mourn the life he had and even more painful to try to be something he is not.
However, the film’s messy third act keeps putting Guy on a path he should not have taken and lets a kind and generous Oswald offer him sanctuary for past sins. It’s unclear what the film is trying to convey through Guy’s actions, though it isn’t its undoing. We can make sense of how much of the film is about identity and how we choose to perceive ourselves in front of others. Though A Different Man isn’t going to be for everyone, Schimberg’s film constantly asks us questions about identity and what makes us who we are in the times that we live in today. A body horror like this offers audiences an opportunity to change their ableist beliefs and rethink how perception is everything.
A Different Man may be Stan’s best performance to date as the completion of his story arc is one of the most compelling things to watch, while Pearson’s performance reminds us that there is more to the expression that “beauty is skin deep.”
A Different Man opens in limited theaters on September 20, 2024.
