‘A Different Man’ Review: The Façades of Sebastian Stan
Sebastian Stan continues to do great work in the independent sphere with an often engrossing, though underwhelming, character study in Aaron Schimberg’s A Different Man.
This year, a week apart, Canadian audiences will be able to see Sebastian Stan in two completely different – and transformative – roles, literally and figuratively, since he’s caked in prosthetics. The most hotly anticipated of the two is arguably his tenure as Donald J. Trump in Ali Abbasi’s The Apprentice before the business magnate became the 45th President of the United States. However, the role he has been getting more talked-about attention for is as Edward in Aaron Schimberg’s A Different Man.
Our protagonist suffers from neurofibromatosis, a condition that has physically deformed his face and makes him repellant to look at (many in his apartment give him disgusted looks or are immediately startled as soon as he’s in the frame). Feeling the burden of being treated as a monster or an object of fascination (as he’s depicted in a commercial encouraging able employees to treat their disabled colleagues with the same empathy, compassion, and friendliness as if they were normal-looking), Edward undergoes an experimental medical procedure to rid himself of the affliction that has plagued his entire life.
As painful as the side effects are, with a splash of Brian Yuzna body horror showcasing Edward peeling his face off (speaking of, the opening scene’s images are plucked straight out of John Woo’s revolutionary Face/Off, as the movie’s biggest wink), the procedure works. Edward finally looks like a normal, good-looking human being who will now be able to live an average, everyday life. Instead of informing the doctor that the procedure has been successful, Edward says that he has died and thus creates a new identity as ‘Guy.’
Of course, ‘Guy’ looks physically different than Edward, but he does not possess qualities that would discern him from the person he once was. Still, he easily fools playwright Ingrid (Renate Reinsve) into thinking he is a different man (ha!) and auditions for the titular role in the play based on Edward’s life. Edward/Guy initially gets the role but soon gets upstaged by Oswald (Adam Pearson), an insatiably charming, exuberant man with neurofibromatosis who seemingly loves and knows everyone. Why not befriend such an individual? However, Edward grows jealous that Oswald is automatically accepted as a member of society, even if he suffers from the same condition he once did. After all, Edward was always rejected and ostracized by everyone when his face was deformed.
There’s one thing Oswald has that Edward does not: extraversion. Oswald has entirely accepted himself for who he is, while Edward has always treated his condition as monstrous and purposefully shut himself out of society for fear of being misunderstood. The only person who has, so far, begun to understand him is Ingrid, who became inspired by his condition and quirky outlook on life to write a play on him. Perhaps she didn’t grasp him at the level Edward did, but she certainly wrote it with good intentions, which becomes all the more heartbreaking for Edward when Oswald takes over the play and becomes its lead actor.
Shot with impeccable verve by Wyatt Garfield, A Different Man attempts to peer through Edward’s attempt to create a façade for Ingrid and, ultimately, Oswald to be impressed by. However, when eternal beauty and a ‘normal,’ invisible face are given to him, he almost regrets it, looking at his newfound face with contempt instead of satisfaction.
This is all strikingly conveyed through a micro-expressive performance from Stan, who seemingly has graduated from the Face/Off school of facial physicality. Unfortunately, Schimberg’s script doesn’t develop his story to the fullest potential, which makes Stan’s performance fall under severe narrative trappings that never allow his character to evolve or, more aptly, regress. The point of A Different Man explores the regression of its protagonist after he is freed from the shackles of his face that have shaped his entire identity until now.
Edward now has a successful career as a real estate agent but is further alienated by Oswald, who has never let his condition define him. It’s funny to react this way because the man who will now play him is possibly the most charming, lovable person you’ll ever meet, with practically zero personality flaws. Perhaps he’s too friendly and trying very hard to impress, but he’s always sincere. That’s why it crawls under Edward’s skin, and it’s well-registered through Stan’s minute facial expressions, contrasted with Pearson’s Austin Powers-like boisterous posture.
But this rivalry only goes so far before it becomes a complete cliché, which sadly hampers the back half of Schimberg’s movie. While the narrative unconventionality is more than appreciated, offering a less-than-satisfying movie for the audience than it is initially posited as (any movie that boldly subverts initial expectations like this should be lauded, even if the result doesn’t work), it also dampens Edward’s path of regression, whether from a rather cruelly violent sequence where he sabotages the play, or an inexplicable bout of horror that sends him into a total path of darkness.
The psychological shift Edward undergoes is not entirely clear and prevents us from fully latching onto him, even if he goes inside a point of no return. We understand his aspirations and motivations to play the titular role in Ingrid’s play. Still, the direction in which Schimberg goes with his film brings out far more questions than answers, ultimately leaving us befuddled in how it initially sits with the character for long periods before making drastic changes to its story. That’s how it immediately grabs us: we spend time with a lonely Edward for more than half its runtime before the procedure takes effect on Edward’s face.
We understand his loneliness and the inner pain he feels as he watches time go by, hoping that someday he will rid himself of this affliction or, worse, die alone. But once he does, there’s an initial euphoric high, which doesn’t last long. Doubt sets in, and regret begins to overtake his mind as Ingrid is more attracted to Oswald’s qualities and charm than Edward’s immediate beauty. She can see Oswald’s inner beauty, which Edward has now lost, with the removal of what made him such an intriguing person to Ingrid. That alone creates an interesting dynamic, but Schimberg seems to resist any kind of conventional narrative tropes that ultimately sink what starts as a psychologically active character study that immediately becomes incurious of his own his protagonist.
When A Different Man ultimately ends with a compelling final scene, the questions Schimberg raises seem unimportant to the type of person Edward currently is. And while it’s great to see so many narrative swerves in a movie that seems rife for a reinvention of the psychological thriller, it, unfortunately, makes its overall experience feel confounding, regardless of another terrific turn from Sebastian Stan. It’s interesting how many people are just now suddenly waking up to Stan’s acting prowess as if he has suddenly become a good actor when he’s consistently done rock-solid work in Dumb Money, I, Tonya, and Fresh before donning the façades of Trump and Edward.