Sebastian Stan Astounds In This Brilliant Comedy

I’ve never seen anything quite like writer/director Aaron Schimberg’s “A Different Man,” a movie that defies convention and typical dissection even as it begs you to talk about it. Is it a wry psychological horror fable, like something out of late-era William Castle? Or is it a paranoia-fueled thriller torn from the American New Wave of the ’70s? Perhaps it’s a biting inversion of the “body horror” subgenre, a knowing satire of how cinema has typically depicted and treated individuals with facial differences? Maybe it’s just a dark, surreal comedy about a man thrust into an unusual situation, and the fallout of his increasingly deranged choices.

Yes. The answer to all of that is yes. Somehow. “A Different Man” recalls so many different filmmakers, straddles so many different genres, that it becomes unclassifiable. It writes own rules and it stands alone. I spent every minute of this movie in a shifting state of surprise, unease, and delight. I grinned like a lunatic. I winced with shame. I gripped my armrests until my fingers turned purple. Schimberg has made the kind of pure cinematic experience that plays the audience like a fiddle, turning our expectations and basic notions against us, making us laugh until it hurts and then making us reflect on why it hurts. It’s an unusual film, an oddity for sure, but one made with such confidence and craft that you don’t realize you’ve been sucked into a vortex until it’s too late. 

If you’re wondering why Marvel star and all-around handsome man Sebastian Stan is buried under heavy prosthetics to play Edward, a character with severe facial differences in “A Different Man,” well, the movie wants you to wonder. More than anyone else, the film knows how cinema has treated folks who look different, transforming them into either grotesque monsters or tragic martyrs with no degree of humanity or nuance. And when Edward undergoes an experimental medical procedure and emerges looking like a guy who can lead Hollywood movies, the film wants you to experience some level of discomfort. Why does this guy need to change? Is this for his benefit or for the benefit of strangers who pass him on the street?

Those questions are already bouncing around your brain like bullets when the film introduces Oswald, played Adam Pearson, an actor with actual facial differences due to neurofibromatosis. As one may know from his roles in “Under the Skin” and “Chained For Life,” Pearson is a charismatic, engaging performer (although “A Different Man” allows him to be hilarious in ways previously unseen). He commands the screen to such a degree that one wonders why a traditionally good looking man like Stan needs to bury himself under prosthetics to play a role like this in the first place.

And that’s the point. The question is the point, and it’s one that the film approaches from a variety of angles, both playful and intense. (If it feels like I’m being opaque in my plot description here, I am, and it’s for your benefit, dear reader.) Edward and Oswald find themselves on a collision course in a story flavored and scored like a thriller but with the building blocks of something closer to Larry David or Albert Books on his most cynical days.

Just when you think the final curveball has been thrown, Schimberg weaponizes the imagery and violence of a body horror movie, turning language of a medium frequently guilty of stigmatizing those who are different against itself. The facial differences depicted in the film, both real and prosthetic, are never once treated with horror or disgust, but the gore on display allows us to acknowledge the violence of an internal and unseen transformation. If there’s such thing as a “body horror of the soul” movie, it would be “A Different Man.”

Stan, always an interesting actor, confirms any suspicions that he’s actually a powerhouse as he navigates a labyrinth of tricky emotions. It’s an endlessly complex performance, even as we learn that Edward is perhaps not as complicated as we initially thought. It’s a performance that finds the nuance and layers in someone who initially requests the benefit of the doubt but slowly, painfully reveals that cinema has trained our expectations, and that we misplaced them. It’s a towering leap of faith for Stan, the kind of performance an actor gives when they surrender themselves entirely and hope the movie can capture them. “A Different Man” doesn’t just catch him — it allows him to soar, even when it’s relishing his character’s brutal, hilarious plummet.

In comparison, Pearson’s performance is deceptively simple, but refreshing: His Oswald is a good guy, a smart guy, and a guy who lights up every room he enters. It’s not easy to play someone this likable, and it’s rare for a film to allow an actor like Pearson the room to be this effortlessly charming. In a film that’s otherwise low-key devious in how it interrogates cinema’s treatment of people with facial differences, it’s a performance that feels revolutionary.

I worry that as I hem and haw to not reveal too much in this review (the surprises of “A Different Man” are best left as just that) that I’m making it sound like homework. But that couldn’t be further from the truth. This is a great time at the movies, the kind of dark comedy that plays to the crowd and the kind of pseudo-thriller that keeps you guessing as each poor decision made by its lead character introduces a new wrinkle in the ongoing spiral of drama and recklessness. Sure, it exists to make you question how you watch movies and how you examine other humans and what kind of responsibility we owe to ourselves and one another, but it’s also just, well … It’s a hoot. Pure and simple.

/Film Rating: 9 out of 10

“A Different Man” is now playing in theaters.