In 2019, DC looked to revolutionise its slate with a brutal reimagining of a famous villain’s origin story, in which a wronged man seeks revenge on those who hurt him amid a crumbling Gotham City. Now in 2026, it looks to revolutionise its slate with a brutal reimagining of a DC villain’s origin story in which a wronged man seeks revenge on those who hurt him amid a crumbling Gotham City. The comparisons between Joker and Clayface are inevitable, and though the genre has switched from the 70s Scorsese thriller to 90s body horror, they certainly feel cut from the same cloth. But while a superhero-affiliated property being willing to go to such nasty places is commendable (this dares for an 18, which Joker didn’t), and there are some terrifically wince-inducing and praiseworthy elements to Clayface, it’s hard not to think about these influences – and wish you were watching them instead.
Like Joker, the influences for Clayface both in and out of the Batman mythology are clear. Anyone familiar with the character’s appearance in Batman: The Animated Series will get much of the character’s backstory – successful actor Matt Hagen volunteers for human trials for an experimental medication to regain his good looks after a horrible disfigurement. There are some distinct differences, namely the “accident” from the show being replaced by a deliberate attack by gangster Markos Szabo in revenge for Hagen unwittingly sleeping with his partner. The method of curing also shifts from a putty to an experimental injection, calling to mind the visual imagery of Coralie Fargeat’s The Substance, and in particular its message that with success comes recklessness.
Cinematically the film recalls all manner of predecessors: the revenge narrative of The Crow (1994), the body transformations of The Fly (1986), the disfigured masking of Darkman (1990). Recalling your influences is not necessarily a negative, as the same could be said of many films that still pack a punch. Part of differentiating yourself from them however comes from finding something an audience can latch onto to make it memorable. Joker, derivative as it is, has Joaquin Phoenix’s titanic performance, which Tom Rhys Harries is never really afforded the opportunity to give as the titular Clayface. He does a very good job of doing what he needs to as a vain and driven actor who goes mad trying to revive his career, but whereas the spectacle in Joker comes from the performance, the spectacle in Clayface comes from the effects. Admittedly these are spectacular, and all of the best elements of Clayface involve the grotesque body transformations. There are multiple moments in which wincing is a certainty – I myself was forced to look away on numerous occasions, particularly a scene involving an aeroplane and a pair of scissors. The idea of losing control of your bodily autonomy and watching yourself melt is a terrifying one, one the whole film should have revolved around in fact. This is particularly true considering the idea of beauty standards within Hollywood and the need for celebrities to keep themselves at a pristine ideal of what stardom “should” look like. However, this only accounts for a portion of the film, with the rest revolving around Clayface’s other comic power of literally masking into other people. This decision moves the film out of terrifying and into darkly fun: it plays well into the idea of the multitudes of an actor and is used effectively in a few key scenes involving his doctor (played well by Naomi Ackie), but it detracts from the claustrophobic nightmare of his key dilemma. I am aware that in advocating for its removal I am going against a fundamental part of Clayface’s comic identity, but including it alongside this horrific imagery makes the film uneven and less scary than it could have been.
Clayface is far from a misfire. It has a handful of truly fantastic set pieces, good performances, and interesting comments about the fickle and cut-throat entertainment industry. I just wish it was more focused on that, and less on being a traditional and overplayed revenge narrative. Making its entire set-up Hagen’s attempts to reintegrate into a fickle industry looking for its shiny new toy (and cutting an entirely unnecessary and poorly played subplot about an invented sexual assault) could have provided a more interesting set-up to Clayface’s rage. As it is, with a lack of real character investment, an uneven tone and more endings than Return of The King, Clayface merely shows flashes of brilliance rather than anything approaching the success of the films it tries to emulate.
