Edward (Sebastian Stan) is, like many in NYC, struggling to break into show business.  He lives a solitary life, preferring to limit his exposure to people due to the facial disfigurements stemming from his neurofibromatosis, but through a few encounters with Ingrid (Renate Reinsve), his new neighbor and aspiring playwriter, Edward slowly begins to open up to her.  He does not tell her, though, that he is part of a revolutionary new surgical trial and when Edward wakes up one morning with hardly a scar on his face, he adopts the name Guy and leaves his life as Edward behind.  Sometime later, though, he meets the exuberant Oswald (Adam Pearson), a man who has a similar condition as Edward.  Seeing Oswald live his life to the fullest causes Guy to question why he still feels so unfulfilled and if the surgery that he thought may have saved his life just brought him more unhappiness. 

Written and directed by Aaron Schimberg, A Different Man premiered at the Sundance Film Festival and was released theatrically by A24.  Only his third feature, Schimberg continues his mission to tell stories that focus on the physical form and how we react to deviations from that form.  The film starts off as a drama with some of the indie quirks that signal that it is okay to chuckle, but slowly and then suddenly the film shifts tone into an almost absurdist comedy – something hinted at early on by the one round and one squared len glasses which Dr. Flexnor (Malachi Weir) wears – that feels tonally resonant with the stylings of the curmudgeonly self-saboteur Larry David. 

Stan does well in the role, fostering a bit of empathy with the audience before later turning that into feelings of frustration.  As Edward, he seems to be stuck on a perpetual loop of bad luck, but once he becomes Guy and we realize a little more that he is the architect of his own unhappiness, we have far less sympathy for him.  Schimberg knows this having purposefully designed the character to undergo this transition in our minds as he undergoes a physical transition on the screen. The lesson of acceptance and a healthy dose of pride is pretty clearly telegraphed even when the film is in its infancy, but Stan and Schimberg are working in such harmony that we remain invested to see what will happen next.    

A Different Man, as it teeters into its second act, employs some elements of body horror to great effect as the procedure works its magic on Edward.  Stan really gets to stretch as an actor as he peels away his old skin one frightening night, writing in pain on his bed.  Wyatt Garfield center frames the man, but in a soft focus; just one of the many great examples of how he utilizes his lens to instill a sense of confusion and discomfort in the audience.  Garfield also pulls from some of the classic imagery of silent and early-cinema monsters, utilizing shadows and showing the action play out in a facsimile projected on the wall in binary light and dark. In this way, and in this specific context, it treats Edward a little like a lab experiment that we are monitoring.  Later on, in the final act, he will continue to center frame Guy whenever possible, but through the events in the narrative, it feels even more isolated and lonely despite having the lights on in a house full of life and people.  The composition is much gentler than how Stanley Kubrick framed Patrick Magee in the stressful final act of A Clockwork Orange (1972), but the intense discomfort being witnessed by these characters is still deeply felt and transposed on us as the audience. There are a lot of showy elements to be praised in this film, but the cinematography is so sneakily and expertly managed that we do not even realize just how sternly Garfield is guiding what we are seeing and dictating how we interpret it until we have reached the end. 

Opposite of Edward, and who will become a bit of a lighthouse which the rest of the narrative will set its course on, is Ingrid.  The role at first seems like a surrogate for the audience as she tentatively begins her friendship with Edward and Reinsve is, to be hyperbolic for a moment, fearless in a role that places her in several uncomfortable social and emotional situations.  We do not realize it yet, but these interactions will reverberate and inform the back half of the narrative when Schimberg transforms it into a bitter and biting satire, but the play does handle Ingrid with some grace as she – far more acutely than the various players in the HR awareness video – is working towards a place of more organic and genuine understanding.  She channels her growth through her writing, and the ungenerous audience may find Ingird’s play that occupies much of the second half a touch exploitative on her character’s part, but given the context of the film, she believes that Edward had suddenly died, and that she missed the funeral.  In this light, the play can be seen as her processing the entire relationship, including Edward’s disfigurements and their budding romance, and it can then lean into a more comic tone as Edward is not being used as a punching bag which would have completely turned us off from Ingrid, but rather we allow for her perception of the experience to grow and evolve overtime.  With our omnipotent advantage, we are sitting and waiting for this play to become too much for Guy – who has accepted the role of Edward in the play – and to handle and blurt out the truth that he is Edward, post-surgery, but the time never comes and the truth will become untenable once fate leads Oswald to that scrappy playhouse. 

While rehearsing the play, Oswald comes into the theatre to check things out and is soon invited on by Ingrid as something of a consultant to check the script for authenticity and sensitivity.  Pearson brings an edge of sharp humor and wit to the film that otherwise seemed content to idle in the realm of awkward, indie, meet-cute comedy and was beginning to stall out at this point in its runtime.  His presence is also the catalyst for the rest of the film, initially a ghost of Guy’s past, but more fully a direct threat to his relationship with Ingrid.  Oswald represents everything that Edward wished and hoped for, but never had the confidence in himself to achieve.  He enters the scene, joking, smiling, doing yoga, and being something of a regular at karaoke night, and gently goads Guy to come out of his shell and enjoy life with him.  It becomes too much, and Guy becomes the antagonist of the absurd and outlandish comedy that the third act eventually develops into, never quite breaching into the farce, but nevertheless a drastic shift from the melodrama that the film opens with.  Importantly, Pearson sells this role on his charm and vigor so that like any good magician – which, in a way, a director is – we are not aware of Schimberg retooling and recalibrating the narrative until we are well seated in this new territory; The Passion of Guy. 

A Different Man is a strange film to first take in, but not strange in a way that it alienates or evades an audience.  With much of the middle act revolving around a stage play, the enhanced theatrics begin to feel at home on the screen.  Schimberg’s script is direct, but it never feels maliciously accusatory, yet audiences will find reflections of themselves in these characters and scenarios, and hopefully be able to grow from them.  It comes from a place of both personal frustration, but also personal liberation, and it is a shining example of how the power of filmmaking and storytelling can open up worlds of understanding.  A Different Man works because it presents its thesis in a subtle yet matter-of-fact way so that it can expertly guide and alter the audience’s perspective as these characters navigate a deeply cutting fable.  It is both bold and comforting – seemingly an oxymoron – but it rewards audiences with a nuanced story that is constantly morphing in slow motion so that we never miss a moment and can bask in the incredible detail contained in this rather unassuming package.