In A Different Man, Aaron Schimberg explores body modification and the masks we wear. Threads of autonomy and identity hang perilously in the balance. The fragile line between self-acceptance and societal acceptance begins to blur, as characters change who they are to fit an assumed idea of who others want them to be. A Different Man asks, when we change everything about who we are, can we still retain our sense of autonomy and identity?
When Edward (Sebastian Stan), undergoes an experimental medical trial and through a series of events, gets a new face — he also gets what he thought he wanted: success at work and with women, self-confidence, and a new lease on life; but, he does not Get the Girl, his former nextdoor neighbor Ingrid (Renate Reinsve), who stays behind writing a play about the old Edward, and remains the subject of his affection. She ends up casting for the play and the newly reconfigured Edward tries out and earns the part of his former self, by way of familiarity and thanks to a handy prop, a mask that resembles his old face.
Then the magic happens: Oswald (Adam Pearson), arrives and the movie is suddenly filled with life and love, where before it was dark and brooding, now there is this identity that does have all the self-acceptance (and thus, the outside acceptance), that our lead character craves. Besides, Adam Pearson remains one of our best and bravest actors — as I’ve noted reviewing Adam Schimberg’s last movie starring Adam Pearson, also about identity and facial differences, Chained for Life (2019), a terrific movie due for an audience — his performance here is all pizazz, theatrical stage presence, and jubilant personality. Write him in on your Best Supporting Actor ticket immediately.
This tonal contrast of Oswald’s light heart juxtaposed with Edward’s brooding doom, twists like a knife. Edward finally got to date Ingrid, living the new life he thought matched hers, but now, here is Oswald, living as his authentic self, and pulling away his girl. It’s really good stuff by Stan, Pearson, and Reinsve, who work so well staged together.
It’s not all smooth sailing. The film is also written by Aaron Schimberg, who does a lot. There are bountiful plot ideas, sometimes outreaching the breadth of the story that is able to fill the movie. There are partially-examined ideas left in. Tragically, even the final moment of the movie feels connected to another draft, some lost revision, clearly hitting a note that should read as deeply important, but as with much of the character development, requires a step back. That’s how the plot plays out: not with impact but with an impulse to look back and think about what has happened. It is a cerebral movie in that way, not so much moment-to-moment in its reflections, but an intricate build-up of too many good ideas, and some of them spill over the side.
The direction feels the same way. It’s very good, like everything in the movie is very good, but sometimes it’s doing too little or too much, is missing certain visual cues or something that would make the eventual denouement deeply meaningful. If we can excuse the back section and think about the middle, there is a terrific movie here, that has so much to say about identity and how sometimes we can overwrite our own identity.
A Different Man will be remembered for its performances. Sebastian Stan, Adam Pearson, and Renate Reinsve are good and well-directed by Aaron Schimberg — if he can continue working with Pearson, Schimberg has found his muse for his best ideas. There are just so many ideas, most of them good, that sometimes they overwhelm some of the stray good ideas that are not weaved back into the thread. Thematically rich, when A Different Man grapples with its best ideas, it’s one of the year’s most interesting films.
If Schimberg could unmask his metaphors and allow them to breathe through the characters, we might see the movie for exactly what it means to be. Instead, we have a surreal and still very thoughtful projection of what A Different Man wants to be: a movie about bodies that tells us a lot about the inner-dimensions of character identities. Underneath the surface layers, there’s a terrific movie in here looking for its themes and motifs to be tied together by character motives and development. It may not join the ranks of prime face-swapping movies, like Georges Franju’s Eyes Without a Face (1960) and John Frankenheimer’s Seconds (1966), but it has just enough great concepts that you want to mention it alongside such good company.