Aaron Schimberg’s A Different Man signals its literary influences right from the start, referencing The Elephant Man and Cyrano de Bergerac—a clip even appears on a television screen to ensure viewers get it. However, the film's true inspiration, unstated, is Hiroshi Teshigahara’s The Face of Another (1966). Similar to that Japanese work, Schimberg’s movie poses the question of what happens when a man sheds his disfigured face, only to realize the confinement wasn’t external all along. The initial concept holds promise, the humor is pleasant, and the actors are dedicated; but it lacks the depth and originality needed to truly develop its own central idea. Edward (Sebastian Stan) lives with neurofibromatosis, a condition that causes tumors on his face, marking him as different in a world that rejects anything unusual. He’s an aspiring actor, understandably withdrawn, and longing for the neighbor who has recently moved in. When an experimental treatment offers him a more conventional appearance, he eagerly accepts it, discarding his old identity like shed skin. Reborn as "Guy," handsome and anonymous, he believes he's finally found freedom. But Ingrid (Renate Reinsve), his neighbor and an aspiring playwright, has written a play about Edward’s former life, casting Oswald (Adam Pearson) in the lead role—a man who shares Edward's condition but lacks Edward's self-disgust. Oswald is charming, confident, and captivating; everything Edward was not and Guy never can be. This is where Schimberg’s influence from the Japanese film becomes clear: Edward’s suffering isn't simply about losing himself, but his conviction that his transformation was a mistake. He thinks that if he had kept his original face, he would be in Oswald’s place, living Oswald’s life and winning Ingrid's affection. The movie recognizes this as a delusion; Edward and Oswald have fundamentally opposite personalities, and Ingrid cautioned him from the beginning that she leaves a trail of broken hearts behind her. However, self-loathing isn't guided by reason. Edward's jealousy, his certainty that he made the wrong choice, becomes what drives him toward increasingly frantic actions. Both Stan and Pearson give fully committed performances. Stan conveys Edward’s unhappiness without soliciting pity, while Pearson brings such genuine warmth and ease to Oswald that the character doesn’t feel like a symbolic reprimand. The moments of comedy work well precisely because they don't soften the film's darker elements; Schimberg has a good sense for what is absurd. What diminishes the experience are inconsistencies that disrupt the film's momentum. For instance, the idea that an experimental procedure would be tested in a standard double-blind study with such a rare condition stretches believability. More concerning is the lack of any psychological support: given how gender transitions require extensive therapy and evaluation today, it feels like a shortcut to suggest someone could undergo drastic facial reconstruction without corresponding mental health assistance. These aren’t minor points; they are choices that weaken the film's sense of realism. Ultimately, A Different Man presents an idea that isn’t particularly new, except for its twist centered on jealousy. That twist would have benefited from more character development and a more inventive exploration of what it means to believe you’ve made an irreparable error. Schimberg possesses the intelligence and talent to deliver something richer, but the film settles for superficial cleverness when greater depth was needed. It's still an interesting attempt though, worth seeing for its aspirations and its moments of dark humor.

Source on TMDB