A Different Man is all about what it means to be seen, in all the best and worst ways. It’s what it means to avoid eye contact with the unhoused man on the subway and to gawk at anyone who looks remotely outside the norm. It’s the difference between simply being noticed and being intimately seen, the way only someone who actually understands you can.
Writer and director Aaron Schimberg looks for as many ways as possible to play with these ideas, fitting the seer and seen inside each other in a little matryoshka doll. But first and foremost, our gaze is on Edward.
Edward (Sebastian Stan) is a struggling actor with a rare condition that covers his face with large, benign tumors. He’s quiet and reserved. His every movement reveals a discomfort even existing in the world, never mind taking part in it. So when he gets the chance to take an experimental new drug that can completely heal him, he does so without a thought. Reborn as his new, more handsome self, he finally gets what should be the part of a lifetime in a local play based on his life. That is until Oswald, a man with the same condition as Edward, steals the part. In the process, this new arrival reveals just how exactly Edward has actually transformed.
Sebastian Stan captures all the nuance and complexity of Edward as he stumbles through this journey in a manner that’s nothing short of impressive. Hidden behind Mike Marino’s brilliant prosthetics, Stab carries the weight of his performance in body language. The slump of his shoulders, the way his eyes apologetically flit to those around him as if apologizing for even existing. Post-procedure, Stan infuses the performance with Edward’s confusion, frustration, and even unbridled rage. Schimberg’s script is an actor’s dream, and Stan more than lives up to the part.
Meanwhile, Adam Pearson’s performance as Edward’s foil, Oswald, was clearly crafted with the actor in mind. It’s an incredible showcase for Pearson’s exuberance and energy. He steal every scene he’s in and gives Edward’s jealousy the perfect excuse to boil over. He embodies everything Edward is not: charming, confident, witty. Pearson’s Oswald is a man you not only want to know but are downright grateful to have in your life.
Together, Pearson and Stan depict a dynamic that is mesmerizing to watch. Does any of Schimberg’s script work half as well without them? Honestly, it’s impossible to imagine.
However, audiences shouldn’t take that as a slight against Schimberg. His script is an intensely rich text, less Beauty and the Beast, more The Scorpion and the Turtle. A Different Man questions not just what’s in a person’s nature but what benefits or inhibits the performance of identity. In art, what makes something feel real or true? What truths benefit a piece? Which hinder? What facets of ourselves we take as inherent truths are anything but?
It’s a film in a constant push/pull with transformation vs. consistency. Permeating it all is a sense of bleakness that seems to radiate from Edward himself. It infects everything from Umberto Smerilli’s bold and moody score to the film’s very texture, with its high contrast, sharp shadows, and rich color. It all comes together as if to say Edward’s insecurities, anxieties, and sadness that can’t seem to disappear as quickly as his features transformed.
Schimberg’s depiction of Edward’s journey to something like a discovery of self is part tragic, fully comic, and delightfully absurd. It’s a distinct film, despite the comparisons to Coralie Fargeat’s The Substance that people are already forming, and more than worth the price of admission.
A Different Man gives face in limited theatres starting September 20 before opening wide on October 4.