As a DC villain origin story, Clayface may not be a perfectly sculpted blend of revenge thriller and body horror, but it works remarkably well when it leans into either genre.
Director James Watkins, working from a script by Mike Flanagan and Hossein Amini, brings one of Batman’s more overlooked villains to the forefront in the DC Universe’s third theatrical installment. While Clayface may not seem like the most obvious choice for a standalone origin story, that’s precisely what makes the film so intriguing. Rather than revisit familiar adversaries like the Joker or Penguin, both of whom have already received their own standalone stories, Clayface gives a lesser-known member of Batman’s rogues’ gallery a chance to step out of the Dark Knight’s shadow and into the spotlight.
Clayface follows Matt Hagen (Thomas Rhys Harries), a rising, successful actor with less-than-humble beginnings. Living the high life after an Academy Award nomination, Hagen decides to take his best friend, Corey (Joshua James), for a night out in Gotham City. That decision turns out to be a career-destroying one as he ends up sleeping with Mia Torres (Joana Ribeiro), a struggling actor who happens to be the boyfriend of mob boss Markos Szabo (David Dencik). And Watkins doesn’t hold back on the violence. Rather than obscuring the attack through clever camera angles or shadows on the wall, he forces audiences to witness the mutilation up close. From a knife slicing into the corners of Matt’s mouth to another cut running from his forehead toward his chin, the sequence is as vicious as it is difficult to watch.
With his career in ruins, Matt exhausts his fortune pursuing a civil lawsuit against Szabo, even putting up his luxury apartment as collateral to keep the case alive. But this is Gotham City, where corruption is practically woven into the justice system. Despite his efforts, Matt loses the case as Szabo uses his wealth and influence to launch a smear campaign portraying the actor as a predator. To make matters worse, Matt’s once-trusted attorney, Frank Fitzpatrick (Eddie Marsan), abandons him when the money runs dry and eventually works for the very man Matt is trying to hold accountable. With his reputation destroyed, his finances depleted, and the justice system failing him, Matt finds himself with few options left to reclaim the life that was taken from him.
With multiple failed surgeries and no one to turn to, Matt returns to the anemic hoven he thought he left behind. But when he hears about an experimental surgery from Dr. Caitlyn Corr (Naomi Ackie) that could restore his face, he runs towards her. Both have similar cases of being ripped off, as Corr’s funding towards her breakthrough treatments was stripped when her financial backers took off to start a beauty company.
Caitlyn’s research is nowhere near ready for human trials, and even then, it isn’t intended for cosmetic surgery. Instead, her experimental treatment uses autonomous, self-improving AI nanocells designed to infiltrate human tissue and become part of it. Despite Corr’s repeated warnings about the risks and unpredictable consequences, Matt refuses to take no for an answer and eventually convinces her to proceed. Once again, Watkins doesn’t shy away from the gruesome details, using extreme close-ups of needles piercing Matt’s face to make the procedure an almost unbearable experience. The tension is only heightened by Harries’s pained reactions to each injection, making the treatment just as uncomfortable to watch as the brutal attack that left him disfigured.
While the treatment initially restores Matt’s face, Caitlyn insists there hasn’t been enough time to determine whether the results are stable or what long-term effects may arise. She tells him the treatment isn’t ready for public release, but Matt, eager to reclaim his place in the spotlight, ignores her warnings and attends a movie premiere. However, his celebration is short-lived when his newly restored face begins to lose its shape. Rather than collapsing into a grotesque mess, the changes are subtle but noticeable enough for his former agent to ask whether he’s feeling alright. Matt attempts to hide his deteriorating appearance before fleeing into the streets of Gotham, where he catches his reflection in a window and realizes that his face is slowly coming apart. What makes the sequence so unsettling isn’t the shock of a sudden transformation, but the creeping realization that Matt is once again losing control of his appearance.
From there, Matt undergoes more treatments and discovers that the people he once trusted have turned their backs on him, whether for financial gain or a shot at stardom. His anger grows with each betrayal, on a path toward villainy. Soon enough, Matt learns the treatment gave him abilities that rely on his ability to control his emotions. Controlling those emotions, though, sees Matt channeling his anger. And soon he learns he can shape his face. Once he begins switching identities, the film does too, shifting between a revenge thriller and grotesque body horror. While Clayface is meant to be both, the two genres don’t always blend, leaving the film struggling to hold its shape.
Still, Matt is molded into a sympathetic, tragic villain whose desire for vengeance is understandable, considering everything that has been taken from him. The problem is that the very treatment meant to restore his greatest asset is slowly driving him mad. Discovering he can heal himself is one thing, but when Matt realizes he can morph into anyone he chooses, his newfound abilities begin to take a psychological toll. What initially seemed like a second chance to reclaim his former life becomes far more terrifying as Matt gradually loses his sense of self.
While the experimental treatment gives Matt the ability to change his appearance, it does little to contain the anger growing inside him. After overdosing on Corr’s nanocells, his body becomes increasingly unstable, with his skin and facial features seemingly reacting to his emotional state. Corr even notices how his face changes whenever he becomes angry, suggesting that his transformations are no longer entirely under his control. Matt himself begins to recognize what he is becoming, going so far as to call himself a monster, despite Corr’s attempts to reassure him otherwise. And as his desire for revenge grows, so does his willingness to resort to violence against those who wronged him. It’s here that the body horror and revenge thriller work particularly well together, as Matt’s physical deterioration begins to reflect the anger and resentment consuming him.
Harries captures Matt’s desperation as he goes from a confident actor enjoying the spotlight to someone who can barely recognize himself in a reflection. His physical reactions to the increasingly painful treatments are just as effective as the grotesque imagery itself, giving audiences a sense of the suffering that comes with every attempt to restore his face. And as that desperation turns into anger, Harries keeps Matt sympathetic even when his increasingly violent actions suggest that there may be no turning back. It’s a performance that gives this tragic villain a sense of humanity, even as he gradually loses his own.
There’s also a slightly meta quality to Harries’s performance, considering he’s an actor playing an actor who eventually gains the ability to assume multiple identities. Acting is already a profession built around becoming someone else, but Clayface takes that idea to a grotesque extreme by allowing Matt to physically transform into whoever he chooses. The irony is that Matt, who once relied on his own face to make a name for himself in Hollywood, can now become anyone but the person he used to be. As such, the script allows Harris to capture that tragedy through Matt’s growing desperation, anger, and loss of control, maintaining a sense of humanity even as his character becomes increasingly unrecognizable. It’s a compelling performance that makes his transformation into a villain feel just as tragic as it is horrifying.
There’s also plenty of fun in Matt’s newfound shapeshifting abilities, which Watkins uses to create genuinely tense and creatively disturbing sequences. In particular, two scenes play with the audience’s perception of what is real and who to trust. The first uses misdirection to question whether what the audience sees is actually happening. The second doubles down on that concept to a terrifying degree. By having Matt constantly shift appearances and identities, Watkins creates an atmosphere of paranoia in which even the most ordinary interactions become unsettling. Since Matt can assume virtually anyone’s identity, audiences can’t be sure whether the person they are watching is who they claim to be, or whether it is actually Matt, molded into an assumed identity. It’s a clever use of deception that keeps audiences guessing while demonstrating just how dangerous Matt’s abilities have become.
However, Clayface struggles to balance its revenge thriller and body horror elements. For much of the film, the grotesque transformations are largely tied to Matt’s physical and psychological deterioration, while his quest for vengeance is more straightforward with its retaliation. Only when Matt begins confronting those who wronged him do the two genres truly come together, producing some of the film’s most disturbing and inventive sequences. From using his malleable body to suffocate his victims to turning his own flesh and blood into deadly weapons, Matt finds increasingly gruesome ways to make his enemies pay. While these moments effectively show how horrifying his newfound abilities can be, they also highlight how the film saves much of that connection between body horror and revenge for its violent payoffs, rather than developing it consistently throughout the story.
Meanwhile, Caitlyn remains one of the few connections to Matt’s humanity. While others have abandoned him or taken advantage of his misfortunes, Caitlyn sympathizes with Matt because her story ,mirrors his, just not as physically. Their relationship develops into something unexpectedly tender, especially when she helps calm his physical transformations and reassures him he still has some control over himself. But their growing affection is complicated by the fact that Caitlyn is his doctor, Matt is her patient, and she has her own relationship. Ackie brings a sense of compassion to Caitlyn without overlooking the dangers of the experimental treatment or Matt’s deteriorating psychological state. And as Matt becomes increasingly dependent on her for emotional support, their relationship adds another tragic dimension to his transformation. Even as he gains the ability to become virtually anyone, Caitlyn remains one of the few people who still recognizes the man beneath it all.
While it remains to be seen how Clayface will fit into the larger DCU, the film proves that Matt Hagen’s story is compelling enough to stand on its own without relying on familiar Gotham locations, Easter eggs, or recognizable names. Those connections may help place it in the larger universe, but they aren’t what makes the film work. Its revenge thriller and grotesque body-horror elements don’t always cohere as well as they should, yet each proves remarkably effective on its own. Ultimately, it’s the tragedy of a man desperately trying to reclaim his identity, only to lose himself in the process, that makes Clayface such an intriguing villain origin story.
8/10
