A Different Man review: deliciously off-kilter tale about obsession

Metamorphosis is crucial to the survival of many species, and yet quite alien to most human beings. Nevertheless, the idea that we could one day be living as we are, and the next be a totally different thing, continues to fascinate us.

In Aaron Schimberg’s A Different Man, this fascination marries harmoniously with themes of ableism, Western beauty standards, and the terrifying experience of knowing one’s self.

Sebastian Stan plays Edward, a man with a facial difference caused by neuro fibromatosis that causes benign tumours to grow from his head. Living alone in a rundown apartment, Edward could accurately be described as a hermit, who sometimes works as an actor (mostly for terrible workplace training videos that teach others ‘how to act’ around people like him).

When he meets Ingrid (Renate Reinsve), the woman-next-door who is one of the few people to treat him like a human being, he is immediately smitten. But a revolutionary drug trial that promises to rid him of his ‘illness’ will soon change his life forever.

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Watch the trailer for A Different Man

A Different Man: who am I?

Stan embodies Edward as a hulking, awkward man; shoulders sloped, feet shuffling, stance small and expression closed off to the world. It is easy to forget that underneath the layers of prosthetics is a classically handsome Hollywood star, one who is best known for playing Captain America’s sidekick (and sometimes foe) Bucky Barnes/The Winter Soldier.

The performance is intended to (and does) invoke pity, not just for Edward via Stan’s acting, but for Edward via Edward. As a character, Edward is someone already bound up in layers of performance; and he plays the role of poor suffering wretch so very well.

Despite never voicing concerns with his appearance, Edward shows us his self-hatred through body language. It is so clear that it disturbs him, and a great use of apartment-leak as metaphor gradually increases that tension he feels as an outsider in the world. And that leak, left ignored by Edward, continues to grow wider and wider until the ceiling bursts. Something’s gotta give. Edward accepts the drug.

A Different Man: visceral

Stan’s transformation scenes that occur after Edward takes the new drug really bring out his star-making ability to portray life-altering pain and anguish. That’s made all the more visceral here with the body-horror inspired tearing of flesh from his face, the goo and sinew falling in wet clumps to the floor as the Sebastian we known and love emerges from his chrysalis.

Born anew, Edward boldly decides that the old him is dead. Now he will become known as Guy, a distant relative of Edward’s.

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A Different Man: brand new me

Guy has everything Edward ever wanted: Sex, money, power. Still, when he sees Ingrid walking down the street one day, he feels compelled to follow her – and he does, right into an acting studio where she is casting roles for her new play titled ‘EDWARD’.

Can he now prove to her that this is the role he was born to play (i.e., it literally is him)? Or will mysterious newcomer Oswald (played by Adam Pearson, who has neuro fibromatosis in real life) outshine him in every way?

Pearson, who is relatively new to the world of movie acting, is a delight and appropriately steals all of the scenes he shares with Stan. Oozing charm and charisma, he makes it easy for his co-stars and the audience alike to fall in love with him as he takes to the stage to play Edward.

A Different Man: rich

This set up is so deliciously rich – every new reveal is yet another thorn in Edward’s side. How very dare this Oswald dude waltz into his life, looking like he once did, and become almost universally adored by everyone around him. Could it be that true beauty really was on the inside after all?

Now, it would be easy for Schimberg to play it safe along those lines of ‘beauty is in the eye of the beholder,’ yadda yadda. But A Different Man‘s greatness lies in the fact that it doesn’t take that bait. You must notice that despite Oswald’s many fans, there is still a general dislike and distrust of him in the wider society of the film.

In other words, ableism still runs rife, and it does not magically disappear simply because Oswald nails the role of charming thespian on stage and in life.

But for Edward, the claws have already sunk in on the obsession with how he and Oswald are treated. Something tells me he’s not going to learn a neat little lesson from this journey.

Tonally, you might walk into this film thinking you’re about to see a realist drama, or maybe even some inspiration porn about disabled actors – especially when you are eased into the narrative with such a steady editing pace, and see the muted colour pallette and the naturalistic shot setups.

A Different Man: body horror

But it doesn’t take long for A Different Man to reveal its cards: it’s one part body horror, one part dark comedy, one part psychological thriller. 70s-horror style quick zooms and whip-pans are employed to enhance the disorienting state Edward is in, and there’s a few editing choices which are directly out of an old soap-opera (which I must clarify is hilarious, and not at all a bad thing).

There were more jump scares than I expected from a film like this, and more laughs, too. Wait for the zinger about theatre assassins and Abraham Lincoln. I won’t spoil it, you just have to see it.

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I walked away with a strong sense that I had seen a real ripper of a film, and with one of the best performances by Sebastian Stan in his entire career. It left me thinking deeply about the relationship between self and other – not only how we perceive ourselves, but how we perceive society as perceiving ourselves.

Be warned, though: you may spend a lifetime peeling back those layers of yourself, yet walk away having discovered nothing.

A Different Man is in cinemas from 24 October.