Written by Andreas Babiolakis

Haven’t we all felt like we were in our own episode of The Twilight Zone at some point, as we are strapped down to the depths of the Earth with persisting, existential dread so strong that we can feel our bones slowly get crushed under the weight of trying to remain alive? As if we are each an individual mouse being left to fend for themselves in some collective experiment to see how badly we can be toyed with? I guarantee we have all questioned if everything is a simulation, and that we are the stars of our own Truman Show with the universe against us. Life can feel like a sick obstacle course where everything we do is wrong, and numerous films have showcased the fickleness of just being a living human, including Being John Malkovich, Synecdoche, New York, and Anomalisa (and other films not written by the great Charlie Kaufman, I swear). A recent entry in this satirical, mind-bending, niche genre of films is Aaron Schimberg’s A Different Man: an exposition of how cruel society can be, but how much worse to ourselves we can be when the toxicity of civilization’s dog-eat-dog ethos forces us to despise our very existence.

Schimberg has cleverly cast three of the biggest names of the film circuit as of late. We have Sebastian Stan, who is the most obvious name regarding his Marvel-sized popularity (as well as the numerous other chameleon-esque roles he’s taken on). The Worst Person in the World’s Renate Reinsve appears here as well, after the Joachim Trier film catapulted her into the stratosphere of adoration. Then, there’s Adam Pearson: an actor best known for Jonathan Glazer’s science fiction masterpiece, Under the Skin. Pearson has neurofibromatosis: a skin condition that spreads non-cancerous tumours throughout his body. In Under the Skin, Pearson is arguably the heart of a very frigid film about an alien’s quest to harvest human skin; Scarlett Johansson’s extra terrestrial protagonist faces her first moral conflict when she comes across Pearson’s unnamed character, and questions whether or not to let him live after he opens up to her. It’s a brief performance, but an unforgettable one that feels like a knife in the heart once you sense what truth he brings to this role.

I’ve been waiting for Pearson to be featured again in a film so we can see the extent of his acting capabilities, and A Different Man certainly does not disappoint in this respect. Similarly to the Kaufman-scribed (and directed, in some cases) films mentioned before, A Different Man poses a meta, reality-bending look at the human experience. Stan plays Edward, who looks nearly identical to Pearson via some incredible special effects makeup. Before I realized that this, in fact, wasn’t Pearson acting as Edward, I began to question the ethics of having an actor like Stan don this makeup; you’ll be surprised to know that, at one point, A Different Man actually displays the same question: whether or not it is right, in 2024, for a non-disabled actor to portray a disability. Schimberg has clearly thought about this situation long and hard, having worked with Pearson on the 2019 film, Chained for Life. In the way that Reinsve’s playwright character, Ingrid, believes that her Off-Broadway project was something he was meant to do, perhaps Schimberg had the same calling.

Edward, like Adam Pearson, lives with neurofibromatosis. He is an actor who is usually only hired for company policy videos on how to handle co-workers with disabilities. He lives alone in a complex full of people who also keep to themselves. There is a leak in his ceiling that continues to get worse and worse. Soon enough, Ingrid moves next door and doesn’t seem to be phased by Edward’s appearance; Edward misconstrues this as a romantic kind of love. In the meantime, there is a miracle procedure that can help remove Edward’s neurofibromatosis; he initially shrugs off this option until he is tired of feeling lonely and unaccepted by society. After some grotesque transformations involving scabs and the ripping-off of skin, Edward appears just like Sebastian Stan. He doesn’t tell those closest to him that he had work done; he simply declares Edward dead, and begins living a new life as real estate agent Guy Moratz. As Guy, he reconnects with Ingrid — who is now making a play based on the life and death of Edward, who she believes is actually gone. Guy deems himself perfect for the part, because he very much lived it.

*A Different Man* is not a film with one clear thought. Instead, it leaves us in the fog to make our own sense of what we’re given.

Once “Guy” tries out for the part of Edward (Ingrid, obviously, has no idea Guy was the Edward she is grieving for), we finally see Pearson as Oswald: another person with neurofibromatosis, who seems to get high off of life. Oswald is funny, multi-talented, charming, and adored by all; something Edward/Guy never experienced either with or without neurofibromatosis. This drives Edward/Guy crazy, especially when Oswald — through no malicious intent — starts becoming perfect for the role in Ingrid’s play. Is Edward somehow even less liked as Guy? It’s a reality that gives him his own Truman Show moment: a shattered mind that feels like he is the biggest punch line in this never-ending joke of the world. We’ve all been there for different reasons. A Different Man is here to remind us that none of us are jokes (yes, even during the film’s more darkly comedic moments).

While society acts like the antagonist of the film at first, curiously, Edward/Guy becomes his biggest obstacle throughout A Different Man, which is a major lesson for us all: while he wanted to look like a different person and strived to be loved as someone he wasn’t, he should have just remained true to himself this whole time. Naturally, such a lesson is a bit of a naive one, seeing as nothing is ever so simple in the real world. Even though A Different Man is a satire in many ways, it is also concerned with how reality operates, so it understands that such a diatribe doesn’t work in actual scenarios; it’s like when you’d be instructed to tell bullies that you are confident, and they’d only beat you harder as a result. In fact, A Different Man is never cut-and-dry and is very much invested in giving us situations rather than lying about having solutions. We are tossed in the middle of the fog for much of A Different Man while asked how we would handle these situations if Edward/Guy was us. I honestly don’t know if I have a clear take on what I would have done in this protagonist’s place.

Life can be that way, though. We aimlessly navigate through it and hope for the best. We don’t actually have control over what happens to us; we can only control how we respond. A Different Man is a very complicated film which mainly works as a tortured allegory while also occasionally getting in its own way at times (you can have a film that doesn’t have a definitive answer, but a film that becomes aimless within this grey area at times is a bit of a fault). It’s hard not to think of Coralie Fargeat’s The Substance (also a recent release) when watching A Different Man, because both films feature self-destructive, satirical takes on our individual quests to want to be adored (both films have different reasons, mind you, seeing as The Substance is about a celebrity obsession with fame and society’s beauty standards); while I think The Substance is stronger with its mission statement, I feel like I’ve been dwelling on A Different Man far more frequently because of how less direct it is (which, in a way, is quite nice); life cannot be simply boiled down to certainties when we live so much of it in the dark.

There is much to pick up on here, from the consistent use of reddish-orange to that damn ceiling leak that builds up towards a whole new level of destruction and irony. While I think the immediate splashes of the film come in the form of the fantastic acting trio of Stan, Reinsve, and Pearson, A Different Man is the kind of film that may very well grow in reputation over time, given how many subtle idiosyncrasies get picked up from subsequent viewings. The other main elements present here are both sympathy and empathy, as I’m sure the vast majority of us on planet Earth feel like life has fucked with us time and time again, despite our best efforts to be loved, to live, or to be welcomed. Unlike The Substance’s exposition of what fame addiction can do, A Different Man has an everyday person just want to no longer struggle with simply existing. We’ve all been there. Hell, we’re all there now. If there’s one thing that A Different Man can make for certain amidst its interpretative complexities, it’s that you are exquisite. We all are. Even if society never makes us feel special, only you can truly be yourself, and that’s enough. You’re special. As rough as it is to type (because I am often way too hard on myself and never have a shred of confidence in myself), I’m sure Aaron Schimberg would want me to go ahead: I’m special. Society is hateful enough. You shouldn’t hate yourself, too. You’re the first person to recognize that you matter just as you are.

Andreas Babiolakis has a Masters degree in Film and Photography Preservation and Collections Management from Ryerson University, as well as a Bachelors degree in Cinema Studies from York University. His favourite times of year are the Criterion Collection flash sales and the annual Toronto International Film Festival.