‘A Different Man’ examines tensions between personal identity and societal expectations

By Billie Anderson

A Different Man, a new film by Aaron Schimberg, offers a complex and nuanced portrayal of disability, one that both disabled and non-disabled audiences can learn from. The film premiered at notable festivals and is now playing in select theatres.

In an era where disability is receiving long-overdue attention in cinema and films are under greater scrutiny to authentically represent disability, A Different Man pushes the conversation. It does so by emphasizing disability is not merely a challenge to overcome — but an integral part of the human experience.

It’s crucial for audiences to seek out this film, as its limited release means that many may miss out on Schimberg’s provocative exploration of the tensions between identity, performance and societal expectations.

The story centres on Edward (played by Sebastian Stan), a man with neurofibromatosis — a condition that causes tumours to grow on nerves. After living for a long time with the condition, Edward seeks out an experimental drug meant to “fix” his appearance. The drug is successful and overnight, Edward transforms from disfigured to conventionally attractive.

The narrative hinges on Edward’s struggle with self-esteem issues that stem from societal perceptions of his disability. However, the change in his outward appearance only deepens his internal conflict: although Edward physically transforms, his struggles with self-perception and societal rejection persist.

This highlights a critical point made by disability studies scholars, including Rosemarie Garland-Thomson, who argue that our culture pressures disabled individuals to conform to non-disabled norms. Norms about how to look, sure, but also norms about how to behave, communicate and even think.

Even when the visible markers of disability are removed, the underlying societal pressures and biases remain, illustrating that the true challenge lies not in the body itself, but in the societal structures that dictate what is considered an acceptable life.

This message, however, is turned on its head when audiences meet Oswald, played by Adam Pearson. Oswald, who has the same disability that Edward was just cured of, embodies a different relationship with his appearance; he is confident and self-assured, fully embracing his identity without the desire to conform to societal expectations.

Oswald’s confidence is evident in how he navigates the world unapologetically, refusing to hide or downplay his appearance, a stark contrast to Edward’s desire for transformation. Pearson plays Oswald with a larger-than-life charisma, reminiscent of an Austin Powers type — loud, brash and fully aware of his own charm.

This boldness not only serves as comic relief but also positions Oswald as a character who owns every room he walks into, subverting what disability studies scholars David T. Mitchell and Sharon L. Snyder argue are expectations of disabled people as passive or self-conscious figures.

By embracing this energetic, self-assured persona, Oswald disrupts the traditional narrative that disabled people must seek a “cure” or hide their differences to be accepted or achieve happiness. His character challenges audiences to rethink the value society places on external appearance, demonstrating that self-acceptance can be far more powerful than fitting into conventional standards of beauty or normalcy.

Through Oswald’s defiant approach, A Different Man invites viewers to question whether the real issue lies in disability or in society’s limited perceptions of what it means to live fully. Perhaps more than that, for disabled viewers, Oswald’s character offers a refreshing alternative — a model of self-acceptance that defies the pressure to overcome, and instead embrace, radical difference.

This contrast raises important questions about the value society places on appearance and conformity. Through Oswald, the film critiques the prevailing belief that a “normal” life — a non-disabled life — is synonymous with happiness or fulfilment.

Schimberg pushes back against reductive portrayals of disability that have long been seen in the film industry that either elicit pity or offer a misguided sense of inspiration. A Different Man offers a more nuanced and honest representation, capturing the complexity that disability can be: simultaneously challenging and liberating, visible yet invisible, empowering yet stigmatizing.

With Edward and Oswald as richly developed characters, each embodies distinct relationships with their disabilities — neither character “incorrect” in their interpretation of their lived experience. These contradicting portrayals illustrate it is possible to craft authentic narratives that reflect the realities of disabled life, while also challenging our perception of disability, and highlighting the real struggles that disabled people overcome.

One of the most striking aspects of A Different Man is how it handles identity. After Edward’s transformation, he adopts the name “Guy” and begins living a double life, even wearing a replica of his old face as a mask for a theatre role.

This surreal detail critiques the performance of disability in the film industry — a theme Schimberg also explored in his 2018 film, Chained for Life. Disabled actors are often cast because of their differences, but they are still expected to perform that difference in ways that conform to able-bodied expectations.

In A Different Man, the relationship between how disabled individuals are perceived by others and their own lived experiences raises crucial questions about authenticity in disability representation.

Can a non-disabled actor like Sebastian Stan authentically portray a disabled character? Or does it reinforce the objectification of disabled bodies? Schimberg invites the audience to grapple with these questions.

Such questions and a shift toward complexity is critical as audiences and filmmakers increasingly recognize the need for inclusive storytelling that goes beyond race and gender to encompass disability.

As disability studies scholars Mitchell and Snyder argue, narratives that embrace multifaceted identities can disrupt the status quo, offering new insights into how society views disabled individuals outside of the cinema.

A Different Man serves as a roadmap for these richer portrayals, inviting viewers to engage with the complexities of identity, societal expectations and the human body. The film signifies a reimagining of cinema’s potential to elevate marginalized voices and foster a deeper understanding of diverse experiences that shape people’s stories about disability.