A DIFFERENT MAN (2024)

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DIRECTED BY:

FEATURING: Sebastian Stan, Renate Reinsve,

PLOT: Edward, an aspiring actor who suffers from disfiguring facial tumors, is cured by an experimental treatment and starts a new life; he then seeks to be cast in a play about his previous life, but becomes jealous when the charismatic, disfigured Oswald—a better actor and a better fit for the part—enters the scene.

Still from A Different Man (2024)

COMMENTS: In one of the wickedly funny moments of A Different Man, Edward is passed over by an agent specializing in casting actors with “unusual physiognomies” in favor of a crazed, but relatively normal looking, subway provocateur. Edward’s neurofibromitosis has disfigured his character even more than his face: he prefers to slink into the background, he’s understandably paranoid, and he’s jumpy from constantly being on alert to incoming social threats. And yet, he harbors a vanity: to be an actor, despite the fact that he can barely remember his lines and has no sense of the appropriate register for the one job he does land, playing a disabled employee in a corporate inclusivity training video. The only bright spot in his life is his crush on Ingrid, a cute aspiring playwright living in the next apartment, but even she instinctively recoils from his touch (while remaining unfailingly friendly). So miserable Edward can hardly be blamed for volunteering for an experimental therapy that might reduce his tumors: “the risk may be worth the reward.” And when the treatment works miraculously well, not merely reducing his blemishes but completely healing them and turning him into a handsome man, he can hardly be blamed for indulging in unselfconscious socializing and casual sex—although some of his post-cure decisions will prove questionable.

But when dashing Oswald, another man with neurofibromitosis who has all the talent and social capital Edwards craves, but without having cheated through surgery, bursts onto the scene, Edward (now called Guy) is chastened and again filled with self-doubt. A Different Man is not a literal doppelgänger film—-Oswald not quite a literal double, but an independent individual who simply happens to share a rare characteristic with Edward—-but he serves the same symbolic story function as William Wilson or James Simon. It is a fittingly twisted take on the trope of the double. The weirdest thing about the film is Oswald’s sudden omnipresence—he pops up at rehearsals, at the bar, in Ingrid’s apartment—as if he’s being summoned by Edward’s guilty conscience. And Oswald’s appearance ignites the film’s central irony: Ingrid writes an off-Broadway play with the role Edward was born to play, but because of his successful surgery, he’s no longer right for the part.

A Different Man posits what appears to be a simple moral: changing your surface appearance will not change your essential nature. And yet this simple fable plays out in anything but a simple fashion, because the characters of Edward/Guy and Ingrid are so complex. (Oswald is not complex: although Pearson’s performance is unimpeachable, he’s a one-note symbol here.) Edward does some bad things, but we are predisposed to forgive him because we know where he came from and how he suffered in the first act. Our empathy for him shifts with the plot twists. Ingrid, too, is not the angel she first seems, but just another flawed specimen of humanity. The screenplay pulls the viewer in so many different directions that, as you watch the film, the seemingly simple message plays as psychologically complex. While mostly a comedy, it begins by generating a deep empathy for Edward’s condition. When he goes through the painful experimental treatment and literally rips ribbons flesh off of his face, it briefly becomes a horror film. When Oswald mysteriously pops in, it toys with becoming a psychological thriller. As Edward’s jealousy grows, it angles towards satire. And all the while the film doesn’t shy away from self-reflection: discussing the play within the film, Ingrid wonders out loud whether it is wrong to cast someone because of their disfigurement, rather than in spite of it. Schimberg  keeps the viewer off balance, disguising the simplicity of the scenario in a way that seems to fully explore the story’s implications and yet leave something mysterious unsaid.

Writer/director Aaron Schimberg clearly created the movie as a showcase for Adam Pearson, who impressed him on the set of Chained for Life, and whom he described as “one of the biggest extroverts I’ve ever met: very much the life of the party, everybody loves him. He could be a cult leader if he wanted to.” Pearson obviously doesn’t get many feature film roles written for him, so the existence of two Schimberg/Pearson movies is a great bit of cinematic history trvia. If Schimberg comes up with a third unique role for Pearson, their collaboration may become legendary, in the Sergio Leone/ vein.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“…far more surreal and weirder than you might be expecting, which should suggest just how strange this one gets. There’s a David Lynch vibe to things (alongside Woody Allen and especially Charlie Kaufman) that may affect audiences in different ways, but while at times it kept me at arm’s length, I never lost interest. Even when the plot goes a bit off the rails in the third act, I stayed engaged.”–Joey Magidson, Awards Radar (contemporaneous)

CAPSULE: THE PLATFORM 2 (2024)

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El hoyo 2

DIRECTED BY:

FEATURING: Milena Smit, Hovik Keuchkerian, Natalia Tena, Óscar Jaenada, Bastien Ughetto, Ken Appledorn

PLOT: A messiah reigns supreme over a cadre of “loyalists” in the pit, whose merciless enforcement of the law both maintains and threatens the lives of those volunteering to survive the platform.

COMMENTS: Galder Gaztelu-Urrutia might have done better just sticking to this franchise as a platform for various character studies. The kinds of people who “volunteer” for probable death by starvation are bound to be interesting: life’s losers casting the die for one last chance, be it for success, salvation, or something else. Gaztelu-Urrutia’s opening salvo in the original Platform allowed for dissection of society (rich at the top—literally, at least, food-wise—doomed at the bottom) and how individuals fit in to the whole mess. In his second outing, we meet some interesting people, and witness how zealotry in the name of the masses typically leads to a whole new flavor of injustice.

The platform’s new recruit, Perempuán, begins as a cipher, and despite staggered reveals pretty much remains so. She is the audience’s new window into this purgatorial nightmare, kept company for a time by an ogre of a fellow who may or may not be a mathematician, but is certainly a screw-up. But her pot-bellied cellmate is never a problem; indeed, he’s a sensitive soul with no aspirations to harm anyone other than himself. Harming others is left not just to the platform’s overseers in this outing, but also to a group of fanatics who have taken it upon themselves to enforce “the Law,” which was hinted at in the first film. Eat only your share. Do not eat the food of the dead—’cause it’s unfair. Disobey the Law, and you will be strictly disciplined.

With every thesis (the platform), there is antithesis (the cult of Law), morphing eventually into synthesis. Synthesis, in this case, is a rebellion against the rebellion. The prisoner’s law, as interpreted solely by an impressively mobile messiah—how he travels around the 333-level deep complex never quite clicks—raises some interesting questions: when does enforcement for the greater good become mere barbarism? Is pure equity something to pursue even when it means bringing everyone down to the same level of misery? At one point the messiah’s methods are questioned; he rejoins that they kill now so that they needn’t kill in the future. I’ve heard that before: tyranny thwarted by a rebellion, which turns into a horrible new tyranny. Gaztelu-Urrutia seems to suggest there’s a third, middle-way.

That sensibility usually gets lost in the fervor—and particularly so in the case of The Platform 2. There is much to enjoy this time around: the inmates are fleshed-out people pushed to desperate extremes; the vagaries of populist autocracy are dissected; and spiritual undertones manifest in a semi-elegant allegory. But as other viewers and critics have observed, a muddle (a frenzied, violent muddle) develops. Though the film gnaws at interesting themes, there are a few too many, and the climax feels like an under-chewed story to gulp down as the credits roll.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“Eventually, the movie skips ahead to something more novel: an eerie, green-lit sequence that brings both sci-fi and slow-building suspense back into the proceedings. (Even the ever-present blood splatter becomes more poetic.) Then it barrels ahead further, into a head-scratching final stretch that doesn’t gain any clarity by continuing on into the end credits.”–Betsy Reed, The Guardian (contemporaneous)

CAPSULE: THE SAVAGE HUNT OF KING STAKH (1980)

Dikaya Okhota Korolya Stakha

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Srill from The Savage Hunt of King Stahk (1980)

DIRECTED BY: Valery Rubinchik

FEATURING: Boris Plotnikov, Elena Dimitrova, Albert Filozov, Roman Filippov, Valentina Shendrikova, Vladimir Fyodorov

PLOT: Andrej Bielarecki (Plotnitkov), a folklore scholar, arrives at the Janowski family castle in the Belarusian Swamp Firs region in 1900. Nadzieja (Dimitrova) is the last representative of her family, which is supposedly under a generational curse due to her ancestor killing King Stakh, a 15th Century nobleman who still roams the area with his retinue in a Wild Hunt. Bielarecki finds himself caught up in murders apparently committed by King Stakh and his retinue.

COMMENTS: The term “folk horror” has become a huge umbrella, providing a niche for discovery and rediscovery of quite a few movies, which is a good thing overall. But it’s beginning to become exhausted, often used as a marketing gimmick for horrors with relatively minor folk elements. That isn’t the case, fortunately, with King Stakh. Its folk horror bona fides are right in the title, referencing the folkloric motif of The Wild Hunt. Based on the novel King Stakh’s Wild Hunt by Belarusian author Vladimir Karatkievich (who collaborated on the screenplay with Rubinchik), Stakh uses the trappings of folklore and horror (the visuals are very atmospheric, shot by Tatyana Loginova with production design by Aleksandr Chertovich) to support what is ultimately, in the end, a mystery/historical incident with political undercurrents.

Deaf Crocodile brings out Stahk in a new restoration, in a standard or limited deluxe edition, for its first ever U.S. release (the deluxe edition is in a hard slipcase with a 60 page booklet with essays by Walter Chaw and Peter Rollberg). Fittingly, there is an introduction by Kier-La Janisse, who included Stakh in her 2021 documentary Woodlands Dark and Days Bewitched: A History of Folk Horror. There are two complementary commentaries: Steven R. Bissette’s talk goes a bit more into the director and actors, while Mike (“The Projection Booth”) White touches on the book and reacts more  to the onscreen action. Also included is a video essay by film historian Evan Chester.

IT CAME FROM THE READER-SUGGESTED QUEUE: FROM MORN TO MIDNIGHT (1920)

Von morgens bis mitternachts

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DIRECTED BY: Karlheinz Martin

FEATURING: Ernst Deutsch, Roma Bahn, Hans Heinrich von Twardowski, Lotte Stein, Frida Richard

PLOT: A bank cashier is so enchanted by a customer that he steals an enormous amount of money in hopes of persuading her to run away with him, but when he rejects him, he abandons his family, skips town, and reinvents himself, using the money in pursuit of earthly pleasures to diminishing returns.

Still from From Morn to Midnight (1920)

WHY IT MIGHT JOIN THE APOCRYPHA: One of the pre-eminent early examples of German expressionist filmmaking (no discussion of it is complete without mentioning its fellow 1920 release The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari), From Morn to Midnight delivers a healthy dose of abstract imagery and proto-surrealism, taking advantage of both the newness of the medium and its silence to tell its cautionary tale.

COMMENTS: The Cashier, the protagonist of From Morn to Midnight, doesn’t walk on to the screen, nor do we cut to him. No, director Karlheinz Martin dissolves in on our central character, summoning him to life in the middle of a bank vault as though he were being added to a holodeck program. We will later learn that this wretched figure has a home and an adoring family waiting for him there, but this first scene provides us with the real scoop: The Cashier exists purely for the purposes of this allegorical tale, and no pesky background or deeper characterization will be needed.

So begins a surprisingly didactic and moralistic story. Once the Cashier decides to break bad, he goes whole hog: ditching his family as callously as he can; making himself over from a bent and wrinkled old man into a spry, slick dandy; and spending all his ill-gotten gains on wine, women, and song. At every turn, he meets with disappointment. The money doesn’t bring him respect or pleasure. Intriguingly, his road-to-Damascus moment doesn’t work out, either; having forsaken his past sins, he is sold out by a gentle Salvation Army worker who turns him in the moment he mentions the reward for his capture. The final image—the Cashier dying in a crucifixion pose with the words “ECCE HOMO” flickering above him like a neon bar sign—is not exactly subtle.

Then again, absolutely nothing in From Morn to Midnight is subtle, because director Martin is  here to sell an art form more than a story. He piles on all the Expressionist touches in his arsenal. He places every scene in a black void, with only the most abstract simplistic props and scenic elements providing hints of location. What little set decoration there is takes the form of mismatched flats lined in hastily applied white paint, turning every setting into a chalk drawing. Even The Cashier’s trudge through a blizzard is charmingly minimalist, as he walks down a tightly curved pathway while confetti is thrown at him. The actors themselves become two-dimensional elements through heavy makeup and wildly outsized emotional displays. Dogville almost a century before Lars von Trier could get around to making it, From Morn to Midnight is fiercely presentational, and makes sure you know it.

Like any self-respecting morality play, The Cashier’s sad fate can be predicted from the outset. For one thing, throughout the course of the film, on-set clocks are counting down the inevitable march to midnight (a touch that might have inspired Peter Greenaway). Even more telling is an image so indelible that it not only repeats, but the same actress is called upon to fill multiple roles just so it can be summoned anew. For each character Roma Bahn portrays, whether it be a homeless waif on the steps of the bank, a floozy in a hotel bar, or that young Salvation Army officer, there comes a moment when her pretty face is transformed into a death skull. Her every appearance is a red flag that The Cashier fails to heed.

The story behind the film is refreshingly optimistic by comparison. Many of the cast, including lead actor Deutsch, were Jews who later escaped Germany to live and work in the United States. Meanwhile, the movie itself had a limited release in Germany and was thought lost for decades until copies were unearthed in Japan, where Expressionism’s similarities to Noh theater made From Morn to Midnight relatable. And today, through the wonders of public domain and the internet, it’s available for all to enjoy, in the original German or translated into English. In this morality play, at least, the love of film is a virtue.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“Not a frame of From Morn to Midnight is wasted in creating a surreal atmosphere…  Its sets are so bizarre, so deliberately over the top that it overwhelms its own message. The audience can only take so much. No wonder theater owners balked at it.” – Lea Stans, Silent-ology

ADDITIONAL LINK OF INTEREST: A Cinema History provides a comprehensive review of the film, with extensive visuals and thoughtful analysis.

(This movie was nominated for review by Shane. [But not, you know, this Shane. Some other Shane.] Suggest a weird movie of your own here.)  

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