Clayface
James Brown
Hollywood has always been in the business of manufacturing beautiful people, then discarding them when their beauty becomes inconvenient. There is something particularly cruel about an industry that asks performers to become other people for a living while insisting they remain physically recognizable.
Director James Watkins‘ Clayface takes that contradiction and gives it a monstrous new dimension. Unfortunately, a promising premise is about all that distinguishes this otherwise mediocre exercise in comic-book horror.
Clayface first appeared in DC’s Detective Comics #40 in 1940 as Basil Karlo, a disgruntled actor whose murderous alter ego relied on theatrical makeup and disguise rather than supernatural abilities. In 1961, the character was reinvented as Matt Hagen, whose exposure to a mysterious pool of radioactive protoplasm granted him the ability to reshape his body and assume virtually any appearance.
More than six decades later, Hollywood has traded radioactive pools for artificial intelligence and nanotechnology. The science has evolved. The storytelling, unfortunately, has not.
Tom Rhys Harries portrays Hagen, a promising actor whose career is derailed by a devastating disfigurement. Desperate to reclaim his former life, he turns to Dr. Caitlyn Corr (Naomi Ackie), whose experimental treatment offers the possibility of restoring his appearance. What follows is a journey into obsession, revenge, and the consequences of scientific ambition.
Harries is well cast, as are Ackie, Max Minghella, David Dencik, and Eddie Marsan. Indeed, casting may be the film’s greatest accomplishment. The performances are competent, the screenplay serviceable, and the production sufficiently polished to satisfy the basic requirements of a contemporary DC spectacle.
What is missing is originality.
"The science has evolved. The storytelling, unfortunately, has not."
The film’s grotesque transformations should inspire horror, yet at my screening, several supposedly disturbing sequences prompted laughter. Perhaps it was nervous laughter, the natural response to something particularly gruesome. But the audience seemed more amused than horrified.
There is, after all, a considerable difference between being grotesque and being frightening.
The problem isn’t that Clayface lacks action or spectacle. It has plenty of both. The problem is that we’ve encountered virtually every element of this story before: the tragic misfortune, the desperate experiment, the monstrous transformation, and the inevitable descent into violence.
One wonders whether this film exists primarily to introduce another villain into DC’s expanding cinematic universe. Perhaps Clayface will eventually find himself opposite Batman in a considerably more ambitious production, where his extraordinary abilities might serve a more interesting narrative.
But the promise of a better movie tomorrow is hardly justification for a mediocre movie today.
For all its elaborate transformations, Clayface remains disappointingly conventional. Its capable cast deserves better, and its fascinating comic-book origins suggest possibilities the filmmakers never fully explore.
In the end, the irony is unavoidable: a character capable of becoming virtually anyone has been given a movie that struggles to become anything we haven’t already seen.
Final Thought
A talented cast and adequate production cannot rescue a story that feels less like a compelling standalone film than preparation for a more ambitious DC adventure.