Clayface

The folly of reckless medical experimentation strikes another comic-book protagonist in Clayface, although it’s unclear if his titular side effects are due to bad luck or bad science or both.

This origin story of an obscure villain in the Batman mythology — connected for now only through the Gotham City setting — is noteworthy for a visual approach that includes a gritty urban milieu and seamless practical effects.

However, it also suffers from a sense of narrative familiarity, with an antihero who lacks the charisma and empathy to flesh out his obligatory transformation from ambitious celebrity social-climber into vengeful monster.

As the film opens, rising actor Matt (Tom Rhys-Harries) is on the cusp of stardom with his first major award nomination, which is cause for celebration. At a nightclub with friends, he’s seduced by a starlet (Ruby Sear).

He ignored the warning that his one-night stand happens to be the girlfriend of a highly connected crime boss (David Dencik), who visits Matt the next morning and carves up his face like a jack-o-lantern.

The attack leaves Matt disfigured, and in his superficial business, your appearance is your livelihood. He’s forced to suddenly withdraw from public life before calling upon Caitlyn (Naomi Ackie), a biotech entrepreneur experimenting with nanotechnology in plastic surgery.

Matt volunteers to be her guinea pig, desperate to return to the red carpet in all his square-jawed glory. “Even it kills me, I’ll still be better off than I am now,” he reasons.

Their sessions together prove initially successful before backfiring and sending Matt into an even darker and more violent spiral that prompts a visit from Caitlyn’s suspicious homicide detective fiancé (Max Minghella).

As directed by James Watkins (The Woman in Black), the film effectively leans into body horror, triggering squirms with its closeups of knife wounds and surgical instruments.

That enables a visceral connection to Matt’s physical affliction to help offset the hollow emotional core in the screenplay by Mike Flanagan (Doctor Sleep) and Hossein Amini (Drive).

It lacks underlying depth, consistent suspense, and incentive for investment in Matt’s harrowing circumstances, while building to an inevitable outcome. By the final act, its fuzzy logic has stretched beyond a reasonable suspension of disbelief.

There’s nothing heroic about Clayface, which at least sets it apart from most of its genre brethren. But the script isn’t molded as meticulously as the character.

Rated R, 108 minutes.