‘Clayface’ is a refreshingly unusual addition to the DC universe: a superhero film without a superhero, in which the central character’s special powers are as much a curse as a source of empowerment. Welsh actor Tom Rhys Harries plays Matt Hagen, a rising Hollywood actor whose career is abruptly derailed when he falls foul of a vicious gangster and suffers grotesque facial disfigurement.

For somebody whose livelihood depends upon his appearance, it’s a devastating blow. Desperate to recover his looks, Matt turns to an experimental nanotechnology treatment developed by idealistic scientist Dr. Caitlyn Corr (Naomi Ackie). Naturally, things go horribly wrong. The treatment allows Matt’s body to heal almost instantly, but it also produces increasingly disturbing side effects. His flesh becomes unstable, and he discovers that he can transform his face to resemble other people.

What begins as an attempt to restore his identity gradually destroys it. There’s an obvious body-horror dimension to all this, and the film doesn’t shy away from some genuinely gruesome imagery. One particularly memorable sequence has Matt discovering that his eyelids have fused together while travelling on an aeroplane. He retreats to the lavatory and attempts to cut them apart with nail scissors, all while the plane is experiencing severe turbulence and a flight attendant insists he return to his seat.

It’s simultaneously horrifying and absurdly funny. But ‘Clayface’ is also a revenge thriller. Matt begins using his newfound abilities to pursue those responsible for his downfall, sometimes assuming the identities of people he’s just killed. There’s something of ‘Death Wish’ about his transformation from damaged victim into increasingly ruthless vigilante.

And I was particularly reminded of Brian De Palma’s ‘Carlito’s Way’ as much of the action unfolds in a seedy world of gangsters, nightclubs and criminal intrigue, where people dance and drink while violence takes place around them. The soundtrack adds to the peculiar atmosphere, occasionally using seemingly incongruous songs such as Chicago’s ‘If You Leave Me Now’ to effective effect.

It’s a film that seems determined to resist the usual superhero formula. Although the story takes place largely in Gotham, Batman barely figures in proceedings, and no previous knowledge of the DC universe is required. This is emphatically a villain’s story, and the emotional satisfaction, such as it is, comes not from Matt discovering how to use his powers responsibly, but from watching him pursue revenge.

Yet beneath the violence is a potentially fascinating examination of identity. Matt has spent his professional life pretending to be other people. His success depended upon his ability to transform himself into whatever an audience or casting director wanted. Now he can literally become anybody. But who is he when there’s no longer a stable face underneath the performance?

There’s also a pointed satire of Hollywood vanity. Matt’s disfigurement makes him instantly expendable in an industry that prizes physical appearance, while his miraculous new abilities give him the power to assume precisely the faces that society values. Unfortunately, the film doesn’t always know which of its ideas to develop. It’s simultaneously a gangster thriller, a revenge fantasy, a cautionary tale about scientific experimentation and a meditation on the dangers of technology.

There are suggestions that Matt’s physical transformation reflects his psychological wounds: shame, humiliation, trauma and the desire to punish those who betrayed him. But the screenplay sometimes seems more interested in devising another grotesque transformation than in exploring those implications. Even the allegations about Matt’s past are left frustratingly vague, making it difficult to judge how much of his victimhood is deserved.

Still, ‘Clayface’ deserves credit for being considerably darker, stranger and more graphically violent than the average comic-book adaptation. Its central irony is also the wonderful paradox that Matt Hagen spends his life pretending to be other people, only to discover that the ability to become absolutely anybody may be the most terrifying way of losing himself.