A gritty descent into Gotham: it's not the Batman, it's Clayface

★★★★☆ (4/5 stars)

It is a curious thing to watch a comic book adaptation lean entirely into the squalid, fleshy realities of human suffering, bypassing capes and cowls altogether. Clayface, the latest entry in the unfolding cinematic landscape overseen by James Gunn and Peter Safran, arrives as an aggressive, body-horror-soaked venture. Directed by James Watkins from a story conceived by Mike Flanagan, the film attempts to ground a classic DC Comics rogue in a recognisable, albeit messy, world of personal ruin and bodily decay.   

At its core, Clayface is a classic revenge film. The narrative follows Matt Hagen (played with feverish intensity by Tom Rhys Harries), a rising star in Hollywood whose charmed life is abruptly shattered. After crossing paths with a dangerous mob boss over a romantic entanglement, Hagen is subjected to a brutal assault that leaves his face hideously and permanently disfigured. Cast aside by the industry that once celebrated him and abandoned by his peers, Hagen grows desperate for a cure. He turns to a fringe scientist (Naomi Ackie) experimenting with a living, clay-like organism designed to regenerate human tissue.   

The treatment works, restoring his visage at first, but it soon exacts a severe psychological toll. As his grip on sanity slips, Hagen transforms into a vengeance-fueled monster, tracking down those who wronged him in a campaign that prioritizes visceral shock value over neat moralising. The Batman is nowhere to be found in Gotham, leaving the canvas entirely to a protagonist consumed by a bitter, downward spiral.   

The film’s underlying concept stems from writer Mike Flanagan, whose affection for the character dates back years, drawing deep inspiration from the tragic 1992 animated television depiction. Yet, discussing Flanagan in contemporary Hollywood requires acknowledging just how relentlessly busy he has become.   

Flanagan has spent recent years balancing an extraordinary slate of high-profile horror and fantasy adaptations. Beyond crafting the foundational script for Clayface, he has been heavily occupied steering ambitious projects like his long-desired adaptation of Stephen King’s massive fantasy epic The Dark Tower. His recent television portfolio includes acclaimed Netflix horror series like The Fall of the House of Usher, The Midnight Club and the recent Carrie. alongside feature work that has cemented his reputation as a modern master of macabre character studies. Because of this massive workload, Flanagan has noted that the final execution of Clayface belongs firmly to its director, having handed over a script he loved before stepping back to watch how the production evolved.   

That final vision belongs to British filmmaker James Watkins, whose background makes him an intriguing choice for a supervillain origin story rooted in physical terror. Watkins is no stranger to stark, unsettling material. He first broke out globally by writing and directing the harrowing 2008 British survival-horror film Eden Lake, a picture widely praised for its relentless tension. He subsequently directed the 2012 period ghost story The Woman in Black starring Daniel Radcliffe, which found commercial success with its old-fashioned, atmosphere-driven scares. More recently, Watkins has expanded his range across prestige television and international thrillers. He directed episodes of the dystopian tech anthology series Black Mirror.

Bringing that background to Clayface, Watkins treats the material less like a traditional comic book blockbuster and more like a grimy genre exercise. The practical body horror—featuring skin melting away, self-administered facial surgeries, and goopy cellular mutations which will have you squinting through your fingers—benefits greatly from his knack for visceral physical tension. However, the transition from suspense-driven filmmaking to a comic book spin-off yields uneven results. While the film occasionally stumbles through clunky dialogue and a rushed narrative arc, its commitment to showing a broken man literally tearing himself apart to settle old scores gives it a grim, memorable texture. It's different, yet familiar. I liked it.