It’s kind of a miracle that a film like A Different Man – an elliptical, analytical film the persistently prods it’s audience with moral and ethical questions – can also be such a compelling drama. Our main character is disfigured and that disfigurement defines his every action. Most of us have seen David Lynch’s The Elephant Man or Peter Bogdonavich’s Mask, two movies that attempt to humanize a disfigured protagonist while still being about the cruelty (casual and outright) that they face at every moment. Writer/director Aaron Schimberg does something very different (no pun intended) here. Yes, cruelty is a fact of this man’s life, but A Different Man gives its character agency, making him an active figure in his life, good or bad.
Sebastian Stan won the Best Actor prize at the Berlin International Film Festival for his portrayal of Edward, a sheepish actor living in New York City. Edward has neurofibromatosis, which causes large tumors to grow on his head and face that create abnormalities. Anyone who sees him for the first time is usually startled, but anyone who speaks with him for longer than a few minutes meets a very kind and sensitive man. Despite his shyness, Edward works as an actor. His latest role is in a corporate HR video about how to treat co-workers with disfigurements. The roles aren’t fruitful, but it’s a living. When a beautiful playwright named Ingrid (Renate Reinsve) moves into the apartment next door, he jokingly asks her to write him a part, not knowing it’s the beginning of a complicated romantic and creative relationship.
When an experimental medicine is developed, Edward’s doctor recommends that he give it a try; the word is that it might actually cure Edward’s neurofibromatosis. Edward tries the procedure and, shockingly, it appears to work. Portions of his malformed face begin to fall off in chunks, a frightening development that feels far from an antidote. Meanwhile, Edward’s friendship with Ingrid bristles with romantic tension, a possibility he refuses to let himself imagine. Finally, Edward’s tumors completely fall off (and Sebastian Stan looks more like the dashing actor that we’ve seen before), and the immediate impact of this “normalcy” is overwhelming. He tells his landlord that “Edward” killed himself and leaves, starting a new life as Guy Moratz, and abandoning Edward for good.
This is where the film’s heady ideas come into play. As Guy, Edward becomes successful in real estate and enjoys casual sex with attractive women. Used to stares on the subway, Edward’s newfound “normalcy” also comes with it a sense of anonymity, and his newfound relationships lack real depth. So when he learns that Ingrid is producing one of her plays off-broadway, he’s stunned to learn that the play is about him; or, more specifically, the Edward he used to be. He auditions for the role of Edward with a mask of his old face. Not recognizing her old friend, Edward convinces Ingrid that he’s perfect for the part, and that the mask will simply need to be upgraded so he can play the role on stage. All seems splendid until the arrival of Oswald (Adam Pearson), a British actor with his own facial deformities. Edward then faces an extremely cerebral conundrum: a man he’s never met might be a better casting choice in a role based on his own life.
Pearson is an actor who gained attention for his very small, but very good performance in Under the Skin, Jonathan Glazer’s sci-fi masterpiece. His singular look notwithstanding, he’s an actor of great depth even if his appearance drastically limits what he can be cast in. This is Pearson’s second film with Schimberg (after 2018’s Chained for Life), and their creative collaboration has allowed Pearson to explore his more charming side. His Oswald is a great foil for Edward. Oswald is gregarious and confident, where Edward was meek and uncertain. Even as the handsome Guy, watching Oswald live a fulfilling life (both personal and professional) eats away at Edward who still keeps the secret of his previous identity under wraps. Oswald shows unbridled compassion for Edward, but doesn’t realize that he’s shattering the latter’s illusions of life beyond his disfigurement.
Schimberg’s stylized filmmaking really straddles the line between artistic and ostentatious. He shares a lo-fi visual style with his peers Nathan Silver and Alex Ross Perry. The intense zooms as well as Umberto Smerilli’s excellent score calls attention to itself, which is a smart choice when dealing with a character who goes back and forth between wanting or not wanting to call attention to himself. The performances from Stan, Reinsve, and Pearson (really the only characters of substance in the entire movie) are all brilliant in original ways. Reinsve is playing a manic pixie dream girl who refuses to fit into our hero’s fantasy, while Pearson is a pleasant but haunting spirit that overcomes his condition without ever allowing you to forget it. This is pretty easily the best performance by Stan that I’ve ever seen, capturing the melancholy and resentment that follows Edward around. The Best Actor prize at Berlin was earned but hopefully there’s more to come.
This is probably as good a time as any to mention that I had a sister, Chloe, who lived with neurofibromatosis. She passed away from the disease in 2013. She didn’t have the deformities that Pearson has, but several invasive surgeries left her feeling just as withdrawn as Edward does early in the film. Like Pearson’s Oswald, Chloe was funny and charming in ways that would surprise many who couldn’t see past her condition. A Different Man isn’t an anti-bullying film about protecting people with deformities, it’s a movie about how are lives are defined by the looks we’ve been lucky (or unlucky) enough to receive. It’s also a movie about how our self-perceptions entangle themselves in out art. Is creation and performance exclusive from our lives? Is it cheating to choose a project because it aligns with your personal experience? Is it ethical to collaborate with someone just because of their disfigurement?
That A Different Man asks more questions than it ultimately answers is a good thing. It’s meditations on self-acceptance and self-loathing (and how they feed off of each other) never reach a clear place, and Schimberg presents Edward’s story as a neverending exploration where some days he finds his peace only to find out he’s lost it again the next. There’s lots of things here that I could describe as courageous, but more than anything else I admire that Schimberg doesn’t feel the need to explain Edward or Oswald’s (or Pearson’s) place in a world of “normal looking” people. Yes they can exist to inspire beautiful playwrights but they can also steal acting jobs and girlfriends. Artists are forced to make ethical decisions all the time, and A Different Man explores that without forcing a pat resolution. That’s courage.
Written and Directed by Aaron Schimberg