SiftPop

by Cris Mora-Villa, Contributing Writer

Type-1 Neurofibromatosis (NF) is a medical condition that centers around the development of (mostly) non-cancerous tumors in the body which often affect the brain, nerves, eyes, skin, or spinal cord. It is the most common form of NF, and its level of advancement in real-world cases ranges from ostensibly mild to extremely severe. Adam Pearson is just one person out of many who carries the weight of such a condition, and he’s done so since childhood. The extent of his condition in particular falls somewhere in the middle, which makes his everyday appearance on an objective level, quite noticeable. I would come to discover Pearson through his role in Jonathan Glazer’s film, Under The Skin, as The Disfigured Man. He doesn’t have much screen time within the movie, but his scenes opposite Scarlett Johansson are retroactively some of the most memorable in any movie I’ve seen within the last decade, in large part because of Pearson. What I find Pearson brings forth as an actor that is difficult to replicate is the magnetic presence ingrained in his exterior. It just feels so raw, but it is also wrapped in a warmth that is so clearly symmetric with the human being I see on screen. So upon learning of his involvement in another motion picture after not having seen him in so long, I was definitely enticed in keeping an eye on said project to see if it would be something to check out. Aaron Schimberg’s A Different Man would be that film, and it is an absolutely towering achievement with practically zero shortcomings.

The film follows a man named Edward (Sebastian Stan), who begins to crack under the pressure after becoming involved in a theater production unknowingly based on his prior life when he was afflicted with NF. In the mere days removed from my viewing of Coralie Fargeat’s The Substance,I can absolutely say that the film’s use of body horror has very much stuck with me since my initial viewing. There was such prevalence of its contents in my mind that it somehow did not occur to me that Schimberg might employ a similar approach with his movie, and he arguably uses it more to my liking. Up until Pearson’s introduction into A Different Man, the immensity of the prosthetics applied to Stan to create Edward is as convincing, if not more, than anything in The Substance. The immersion is only slightly broken when the viewer is confronted with the reality that comes with Pearson’s condition, but I suspect this will bear no impact on subsequent viewings, given how much the movie gets right. Additionally, there isn’t enough visually grotesque imagery happening on screen to warrant labeling the movie with the body horror sticker, but its confinement to a specific portion of the movie is incredibly effective in understanding the turmoil of Edward’s present day life. And on the subject of Edward, the man donning his skin in Stan is beyond riveting to watch.

There are certain actors of a generation that when I think of them, I eventually arrive at my own conclusion that some of these people probably are due far more credit than they get. The notion of someone being underappreciated in their time is a highly subjective metric to begin with, but for the last few years, Stan has firmly been seated in that category of actor. His recurring role in the Marvel Cinematic Universe as Bucky Barnes is still unequivocally the most recognizable of his roles, but it’s his more seedier work that has generated the most intrigue for me. For as broad as his portrayal of Tommy Lee in the miniseries Pam & Tommy was, there’s still a great deal of humanity there for someone aspiring to have a loving relationship. Movies like Freshand Sharperdo well in allowing Stan to use his natural charm and smoothness to shield the nefarious intentions he secretly harbors. When taking a look at how A Different Man fits into the picture, it’s hard to deny that this film doesn’t feel like a point of ascension for Stan’s trajectory as an artist. From the first moment we see Edward appear on screen to the very last, Stan embodies the presence of a man who is on the verge of becoming a ghost. And while Edward doesn’t fully reach that point, it’s only because the character is on course to crash at an entirely separate end which is as devastating as it is comically sidesplitting. 

Schimberg’s screenplay is so effective in executing every aim it intends to. My comparisons between A Different Man and The Substance aren’t meant to disparage the latter, as I really enjoyed the film. However, something I doesn’t really delve into is its satirical elements. While there are moments in the film that I can see are intentionally very humorous, I didn’t laugh very much. Had my theater not been completely empty, perhaps that would be different, but that was not the case with A Different Man. While it’s no Buster Keaton picture, the movie is very much in line with my personal sense of humor. Darkly offbeat, and mixed with feelings of sincerity and technical finesse. One of the major successes that come from the Schimberg’s script that goes beyond comedy is the psychological horror element. There isn’t too big a focus on violence in particular. It has its place, but the violence I saw and most identified with that took center stage was completely internal. The emotional violence that is both inflicted by, and aimed towards, Edward borders on the overwhelming, and is one of the reasons I champion the movie to the degree that I do. Coming back to the body horror specifically, its inclusion almost serves as the focal point of the film that divides it into two halves. On each respective side, Schimberg deftly navigates the most uneasy atmosphere he can summon through the tools he has at his disposal, as well as the collaborators standing alongside him. And those collaborators certainly deserve their flowers.

I was not familiar with the work of Umberto Smerilli or Wyatt Garfield prior to this film, but their contributions as composer and cinematographer, respectively, are absolutely monumental. Smerilli’s operatic showcase has ceased to leave my mind from the moment I left the theater. So subtly gorgeous are Garfield’s compositions, that I could never do justice in describing their power for how expressionistic they feel. These aspects only further amplify the work put on display by its lead actors. Our main trio of Edward, Oswald (Pearson), and Ingrid (Renate Reinsve) share a collective chemistry that is indeed firing on all cylinders. Stan’s charm is hardly vacant from the film, as it’s one of the qualities that draws Ingrid and him closer together once they are first introduced to one another. Mixed within that charm though is a withdrawn physicality that Stan similarly does not discard once his natural good looks find their place in the story. And it’s that physicality which becomes even more integral to his performance as his relationship with Oswald is fleshed out. I see these coalescing traits as what partially sustains Edward’s journey from the beginning of the film through to the end, and I can’t help but respect the commitment placed on that character. A comparable statement could be made of Reinsve and Pearson, as they also flourish in their roles opposite Stan. The major differences in the development of their characters, however, are that as they are portrayed, Oswald doesn’t carry the same baggage as Edward despite sharing the same condition as him, and Ingrid is fueled by the creation of an artistic process in way that Edward ultimately can’t because of the perception he’s constructed of how he as well as others view him. Because he no longer wants to be Edward. He just wants to be a different man.

What also elevates my appreciation for this movie most of all are the comparisons that could be made between it and Schimberg’s directorial debut, Chained for Life. I recently sought the film out in anticipation for his followup, and to my surprise, I discovered that Pearson actually stars in it. Chained for Life follows the production of a feature film, more specifically the complicated relationship that develops between the film’s beautiful female lead and her co-star being a man with NF. Pearson is by far the standout, as his humane performance is inextricably a precursor to what he’ll go on to do in his next Schimberg collaboration. There’s also a boldness to some of his scenes that call for true intimacy between him and co-lead Jess Weixler that similarly rear their head in A Different Man,but the context is far too distorted to share the same kindred emotions that Chained for Life achieves. To call the film amateurish would be a bit harsh, but the differences in cinematic proficiency are not insubstantial. The same goes for the movie’s narrative as there isn’t much to really grasp onto beyond the central relationship between its leads, and some interesting metatextual questions that are brought up to the viewer. The film does maintain a similar sense of humor and even dabbles in the use of prosthetic effects in order to further develop character. I just don’t think the movie is all that ambitious to capitalize on the things that make it interesting. The most prominent of which are those questions that aren’t fully answered by the film’s end, but are carried over into A Different Man. Is it just to use the tragedies of others to fuel your own art? Is it exploitative to cast someone like Pearson in a film if the point is to use his condition as means of driving the story? At what point does the line blur between ableism and diversity in handling depictions of people with mental/physical conditions? With this, I come to think of two other instances that could perhaps shed more light on this subject.

The Peanut Butter Falcon and Good Time are two drastically different movies, both from each other as well as A Different Man, but what all three do share is the narrative crux of including a central character with some sort of condition or disability. While the characters may be imbued under that specific light, the same rule does not apply universally to the actor portraying them. In Good Time, Benny Safdie (who also co-directed the film) very convincingly plays the role of Nick, who in the setting of that movie, is cognitively disabled. The reasoning behind that casting choice from what I understand was centered around not wanting to position someone with actual developmental impairments under such stressful conditions like on the set of Good Time. To an extent, I understand that perspective. However, in making that decision, you also rob aspiring actors like Pearson and Zach Gottsagen of their agency in taking that role away. And so that leads to using a non-disabled person playing someone with a disability, which one could argue is an example of ableism. There is a balance to be struck here, as The Peanut Butter Falcon is an example of what it looks like when the opposite decision is made. Gottsagen plays Zak, a man with Down Syndrome who dreams of being a professional wrestler. The journey that brought Gottsagen to that role was a long one, as he worked extensively with directors Tyler Nilson and Michael Schwartz in constructing the main thesis of the film. That thesis essentially modified Gottsagen’s desire to be an actor and changed it to becoming a wrestler. While this film had the benefit of not sharing the same intense environment as Good Time, there was a great deal of care put into creating the right atmosphere that best suited Gottsagen. And as a result, he was able to live out that dream of being a real actor. And for what it’s worth, I feel he was every bit as good as Safdie is in his movie. 

So where does this leave us on the topic of Pearson’s casting? Schimberg now has two collaborations with Pearson, as he’s starred in both of his films, which to me shows signs of a positive working relationship. The two seem to thrive working with each other, and the results of which beget some really compelling work overall. Every story has its foundations which, from the creator’s perspective, must feel like it’s all or nothing. So when these decisions are made, it truly depends on its individual circumstances to assess one’s own feelings. In the case of A Different Man, this film wouldn’t exist in the way that it does without Adam Pearson

A Different Man is currently playing in theaters

Rating: High Side of Loved It

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You can read more from Cris Mora-Villa, and follow him on Letterboxd and Twitter