At its core, “A Different Man,” written and directed by Aaron Schimberg, is a children’s story. From the first day of school, students learn some basic tenets to live by: Treat others the way you want to be treated, use your words to solve a problem, it’s what’s on the inside that counts. These basic — yet challenging — ideas set the stage for Schimberg’s jarring and nightmarish tale.
At first glance, “A Different Man” is primarily about accepting our inherent physical traits. The film revolves around Edward (Sebastian Stan), an aspiring actor with neurofibromatosis, a condition that causes tumors to grow beneath the skin and — in his case, largely affects his face. Aside from his condition, Edward’s life is average. Yet no matter where he goes, he feels he is being watched, examined and judged, believing all his fellow New Yorkers gawk at his appearance. But the truth is that this is New York City — nobody really cares.
Craving escape from the humiliation, staring and criticism he believes plague his life, Edward undergoes an experimental drug procedure to reverse his condition. This procedure creates a stark “before and after” both in Edward’s life and the film’s narrative — venturing the film into the gory and absurd. In an extended sequence of blood, skin and pus, backgrounded by swelling eerie music and screams, Edward’s face becomes that of the recognizable Sebastian Stan. He finally becomes professionally successful, gains some “friends” and gets into a relationship, in the loosest sense of the word.
Enter Oswald (Adam Pearson), an actor with the same condition whose life mirrors Edward’s goals. Beneath the surface, Oswald is as different from Edward as you can imagine — funny, charismatic and bubbly — even sporting an uplifting British accent. Quickly, viewers learn that Edward could have been like Oswald all along. His procedure has made no “real” difference — he is still himself: Awkward, timid, slouching and hiding behind a mask.
“A Different Man” is built on this type of contrast — horror and humor, violence and kindness, wonder and disgust. Schimberg taps into the part of the human brain that can’t help but laugh — uncomfortably or not — at what’s different and unexpected. This is why the dynamic between the actors undoubtedly works: Together, Pearson, bright and warm, and Stan, angry and depressed, give the film the energy it needs to sustain its simple premise. Alongside actress Renate Reinsve, who plays Edward’s neighbor Ingrid, the pair make it easy to love and hate them both. Oswald’s kindhearted, joyous nature is simultaneously endearing and annoying to any normal, semi-cynical person, while Edward is as infuriating as a so-called protagonist can be without losing the audience.
Even so, it becomes increasingly difficult to follow the film logically after Oswald’s introduction. The inquisitive, analytical viewer has more questions by the minute, most of which will not be answered by the film’s end. Violence and gore go from being subdued and thematic to more shocking and humorous, though this may be proof of how Schimberg effectively captures the chaos of Edward’s brain. Yet, once the audience lets go of logic and embraces the absurdity, these overdramatic and sprawling events only emphasize the childlike morals embedded in the film since the beginning. Edward’s frustration at his perceived humiliation boils over at the prospect of what his life could have been. The idea that one’s dream life was in reach, if only one had broken out of their shell and taken it — in Schimberg’s world, that’s enough to make anyone become a different man.
Gabriella is a junior from Los Angeles, concentrating in English, Modern Culture and Media, and Literary Arts. If she’s not at the movies, you can find her coaching the Dodgers from her dorm, plotting her future Big Brother win, or perfecting her chocolate chip cookie recipe.