A Different Elephant Man

Courtesy of A24

Aaron Schimberg’s A Different Man (2024) just hit theaters and might be as medicinal for you as it was for Schimberg’s protagonist. It is as thought provoking as it is fun and pulls off the difficult task of being original, being a meaningful addition to a conversation and being clear. 

The story follows Edward (Sebastian Stan) who lives with Neurofibromatosis Type-I (NF-1), a genetic condition that presents as tumors growing along the nerves of the peripheral nervous system. Because of this the impact NF-1 can have on one’s life varies greatly. Edward’s symptoms appear to place him on the less severe side of the spectrum, medically. However the severe social and mental impacts of his condition are something A Different Man’s first act explores. 

Stan plays Edward with uncertain, jumpy mannerisms, reinforced by Neil Benezra’s sound design. Edward’s world is full of loud noises, often obnoxious, sometimes overwhelming. This stimulation also signifies a world that is deeply apathetic, illustrated when he sees the lights of an ambulance and hears the sound of an ice cream truck coming from his window. Looking down he sees the darkly funny scene of an ice cream truck driver trying to get around an ambulance actively loading a person on a stretcher. The driver hits all the beats, from yelling out his window to reaching over and banging on the ambulance. The messaging is clear: Edward’s world cares about neither his nor others’ suffering in general. We see him come home to an apartment that is falling apart–a hole in the ceiling serving as a symbol of Edward’s relationship with his own life–only to wail into his pillow.

However, Ingrid (Worst Person in the World’s Renate Reinsve) moves in next door and injects a new element of manic pixie hope into Edward’s life. Playing a spontaneous, direct role in which she acknowledges the obvious reason for Edward’s social awkwardness when she asks him if he would ever kill himself, and he responds, “Maybe.” This dynamic of a compassionate, direct savior caring for someone with NF-1 mirrors David Lynch’s The Elephant Man (1980), which you should watch if you ever want to know the magic of young Anthony Hopkins with chin straps. The Elephant Man was based on the true story of John Merrick, a man with an advanced form of Proteus Syndrome which is similar to NF-1 but with more severe symptoms and a different genetic etiology. Merrick (John Hurt) spends his life either subsisting off of others’ cruel amusement or subsisting off of the kindness of Dr. Treves (Anthony Hopkins). Caught in a cycle of spectatorship, either at the hands of rowdy masses or erudite physicians, the movie asks whether a life spent unable to participate in society is worthwhile. This theme of spectatorship appears in A Different Man as well, by showing us the degree to which Edward actually does participate in society, in a place as accepting as modern Bushwick, albeit still shackled to the knowledge that he is an incessant source of revulsion for the uncaring world around him. Uncaring until Ingrid, that is.

They spend time together, almost share a romantic moment, and become comfort for one another. Their friendship is cut short, however, when Edward takes an experimental treatment that causes his tumors to gradually melt off of his face. After emerging with the face of the Stan we recognize, he begins telling the world and himself that Edward died, and that he is now Guy. Armed with his new face, he becomes a successful realtor. Commuting from his new Midtown Manhattan apartment, he finds himself being stared at on the subway, but this time because his face is on an advertisement on the subway. In his new life as Guy, he’s gained some degree of mastery over the same world that he found oppressive as Edward. All of this is complicated by his reintroduction with Ingrid, now producing the play she wrote about him back when he was Edward.

In the context of this play we see Guy interacting with the idea of Edward as it exists in Ingrid’s mind. Ingrid doesn’t know he used to be Edward though. They discuss what it would mean if they changed the story in different ways and discuss how to end the story of Edward. At this point they enter into a very direct conversation with The Elephant Man, in which Merrick builds a replica of the hospital grounds that have kindly sheltered him and then, having created one beautiful memorial to compassion, he kills himself. Guy speaks passionately about the anguish of Edward in Ingrid’s play but also hates the predictable narrative of tragedy. These conversations are then complicated by the injection of Oswald (played by Adam Pearson), who has not undergone the same experimental procedure as Guy. Pearson, who has NF-1, appeared in Under the Skin (2013) and Schimberg’s previous film, Chained for Life. His casting as Oswald carries additional weight as the actor actively campaigns against the stigma attached to deformity. 

Oswald is the antithesis of Edward. Oswald has a huge personality and is immensely lovable. Women want him to return their phone calls and everyone he encounters enjoys his company. He isn’t afraid to take the stage and act, he says nice things to people, and he engages with life vigorously by picking up hobbies like Jiu Jitsu. As Guy becomes increasingly resentful of Oswald’s ability to live how he couldn’t before his own medical procedure, we watch as Oswald hilariously runs into him over and over again in the biggest city in America, sometimes at a bar doing karaoke or other times wearing a kurta (swear to god) while doing yoga at the park. Guy cannot get away from him! And Oswald gradually takes the part of Edward in Ingrid’s play, eventually changing the ending from a tragic suicidal homage to The Elephant Man to the beginning of a love story between himself and Ingrid. 

Oswald’s presence makes Guy realize that he didn’t need the procedure in order to be happy. He didn’t need to symbolically kill Edward. His relationship with life was always the result of an internal process. He misses all of the signs to this realization though. Most notably this happens in the form of one of his neighbors; this guy is balding and unremarkable with a girlfriend that looks like a Dior model and makes it a point to whisper his exasperated disgust with Edward’s face, pre-procedure, every time he passes him in their building. You fucking hate this guy. And then he kills himself. Just like that. Edward adopts his dead neighbor’s cat but doesn’t seem to learn the lesson that life has presented him. You can cure NF-1, get your dream girl, get a cat and still be miserable. Oswald on the other hand has NF-1 and chooses to live his life fully and richly. Something that was Edward’s kryptonite is Oswald’s superpower, purely because of his mentality. And Owald’s presence in Guy’s life forces Guy to confront his inner misery. Eventually Guy accepts that Oswald is not his enemy but he still hasn’t stopped being miserable.

At the end of the movie, when Guy meets up with Oswald and Ingrid, married to each other and with kids, he learns that the couple is really into retreats and is about to join a cult/commune. They’re regular people! Oswald hasn’t let his medical condition define his life’s trajectory, not even letting himself become a motivational speaker or some cartoon of inspiration. It’s almost more impressive that he just let himself live a life that anyone without NF-1 could have lived. And as Guy fumbles with one of his mannerisms, Oswald laughingly jokes, “Oh old friend, you haven’t changed a bit.” And you realize it, along with Guy. In the most meaningful ways, he actually hasn’t.