Directed by horror vet James Watkins, and penned by auteur Mike Flanagan with further revisions by Oscar nominee Hossein Amini, DC’s Clayface is a project that has a lot of weight behind it, considering the scale of the production. Bringing the tale of Matt Hagen, an actor whose tragic story results in him becoming (one of several characters) the Batman villain Clayface, to the big screen, the film was made on a $30-40 million budget, a fraction of the funds traditionally allotted to the comic book genre – DC’s other cinematic offering this year, Supergirl, had a budget between $170-180 million. If things were not already on strange footing for the project, it was reported that relative unknown Tom Rhys Harries (perhaps most recognisable from series 3 of Unforgotten and supporting turns in Madfabulous and The Promise) had been cast after more recognisable names such as George MacKay, Tom Blyth, and Leo Woodall. Despite the mixture of new and established talent, small scale, and relatively muted anticipation compared to many comic book projects, it is a delight to say that Clayface is one of the most interesting films this critic has seen all year.
Mike Flanagan (who was originally slated to direct) has stated that his original influences for the film were the ‘Feat of Clay’ episodes of Batman: The Animated Series, and the tragic decay of Seth Brundle in David Cronenberg’s The Fly. This influence of Cronenberg’s body of work carries on throughout much of the film’s production and themes – Volker Bertelmann’s score evokes the same tragic, minor tones as Howard Shore’s work on Cronenberg’s film. We are introduced to Matt Hagen as he is trying to rehearse lines in-character as the lead on a new film, and stumbling over the declaration of love. Much like Jeff Goldblum’s Brundle, despite the chiselled good looks and charisma, we see that Matt Hagen has a lot of private nerves and has only one strong connection with a good friend. This isolation leads him to enjoy getting drunk one night and sleeping with a Gotham mobster’s wife, which not only results in Matt’s face being slashed, but his career, finances, life, and everything else being torn from him. So, when Matt, penniless and at the end of his rope, learns of work being done by Caitlyn Corr (Naomi Ackie), a scientist who can reconstruct Matt’s face with new technology, of course he is desperate. Whilst successful at first, things inevitably go wrong.
Much like the work of Cronenberg, director Watkins uses Matt’s mutating body as a canvas to explore the character’s mental state and ongoing identity crisis. The result is a film that combines his work on the subdued rendition of The Woman in Black with the guttural unpleasantness of Eden Lake or Speak No Evil. When Matt’s physical decline begins to manifest through his hands changing size, his eyelids overgrowing, and his face even changing to that of the men who wronged him, we see how he becomes fractured, acting more impulsively than before when he uses these abilities to get even. As Caitlyn continues to try helping him, the actor becomes increasingly attached to the one person to show him true kindness, and he only seems in control of his mutations around her.
Sound and image combine on-screen to give us not only a visually painful display of Matt’s tragic decline (his eyelids becoming fused and cheeks drooping are horrific to watch through Rhys Harries’s expressive face and body), but also brings texture to these effects through smart sound design: the sound of Matt’s eyelids being cut back open or his hand growing painfully large are just as visceral and vital to the experience as the visuals. Rhys Harries also carries Matt’s internal pain as well as he does his physical torment, making the character all the more empathetic even as he becomes more villainous throughout the piece.
Naomi Ackie’s performance also brings a measure of warmth to the film, as well as Matt. Through her eyes, we are able to see that she looks for the best in Matt, even as he declares himself to be a monster. Her conflicted feelings around the man are further complicated by her relationship with her fiance John, a Gotham City cop who investigates the series of murders connected to Matt. Along with Matt as the third, the three figures are the most fleshed-out of the film, forming a quasi-love triangle, albeit one that the maladjusted Matt seems to be forcing more than Caitlyn.
The film’s drawbacks mostly come in the form of a handful of effects that appear less convincing than others, which show’s the budgetary constraints while major set-pieces are prioritised for understandable reasons. There’s a strobe-lit sequence towards the third act which could have lost the flashing after a while (it is a little distracting). There are conversation to be had around whether the crime/mobster elements are necessary for the film or could even be explored deeper – I believe they are, as they show Gotham’s rotten soul and the link between corruption, the film industry, and the lurking darkness beneath a skin-deep veneer – but the film’s 108-minute runtime is a great benefit to the piece. In a world of comic-book films that could be half an hour shorter, Clayface moves at a clip, and never runs long enough to overstay its welcome.
Overall, Clayface is a fantastic addition to the comic-book film genre, blending queasy body horror that made fellow audience members scream and crime elements into a Cronenbergian tragedy. Rhys Harries should receive lots of recognition for his work, humanising Matt’s identity crisis brilliantly, and making a film that would crumble like bad pottery if led by a less capable performance.
Clayface is released in UK cinemas October 23rd
