The last time I watched a film about a man suffering from neurofibromatosis was 44 years ago, when I saw David Lynch‘s The Elephant Man (’80). I went through a similar dramatic experience five years later when I saw Peter Bogdanovich‘s Mask (’85), although Eric Stoltz‘s Rocky Dennis character was a victim of craniodiaphyseal dysplasia, “an extremely rare sclerotic bone disorder”.

In The Elephant Man, the cruelty that poor John Merrick (John Hurt) endured at the hands of Mr. Bytes (Freddie Jones) and others was ugly, and the kindness and compassion that Merrick received from Dr. Frederick Treves (Anthony Hopkins), Madge Kendal (Anne Bancroft), Frances Gomm (John Gielgud) and Mrs. Mothershead (Wendy Hiller) was heartwarming.

I naturally imagined that I was in league with the good guys in this film, and that made me feel good about myself.

But of course, Hurt’s Merrick wasn’t really suffering from this horrid disease — his appearance was a demonstration of masterful, tour de force technique from makeup guy Christopher Tucker. Audience members naturally knew that from the get-go.

Now I’m obliged to sit through Aaron Schimberg‘s A Different Man (A24, 9.20), a black comedy about three characters — (a) Edward (Sebastian Stan), a neurofibromatosis guy who is surgically transformed into a normal-looking dude, (b) an actual neurofibromatosis sufferer named Oswald (Adam Pearson) who isn’t saved by surgery, and (c) Ingrid (Renate Reinsve) who comes to know both Edward and Oswald.

I’m sorry but the trailer for Schimberg’s film, which debuted at Sundance ’24, suggests hard work. Makeup is one thing, but I find it uncomfortable and difficult to spend time with people who are actually grotesque and deformed. You can call me an insensitive brute, but I don’t particularly want to see A Different Man because of this. Put another way, I’ll see it but not without duress.

If you’re a neurofibromatosis wokey, however, you’ll not only condemn people like me but also bend over backwards to show the world what a kind and tolerant person you are. And that’s fine.

But there’s a scene in A Different Man in which a normal-looking woman takes Oswald’s head in her hands and kisses him, and there’s no way that’s tolerable for an average audience member. Forget it.