As we approach the end of 2026, it is perhaps notable that the world’s two biggest comic book cinematic universes, Marvel and DC, remain locked in their eternal struggle to dominate the box office like two gods unwilling to concede defeat, even as audiences increasingly question whether they still want to watch either of them go toe to toe.
For Marvel, there is, of course, the upcoming Avengers: Doomsday, which will surely make for fascinating viewing as it prepares to battle Dune: Part Three on what has already been dubbed ‘Dunesday’ later this year. DC, however, has an entirely different offering, and one that feels particularly appropriate for this time of year.
Enter Clayface.
If that doesn’t sound like your traditional superhero epic, you’d be right, because at its heart, this is not a superhero film at all. Instead, it tells the story of a supervillain (though he has had the odd heroic turn in the comics), and were it not for the DC logo stamped across the film’s promotional materials, one might almost forget that this psychological horror even belongs to a comic book universe in the first place.
We follow Matt Hagen (Tom Rhys Harries), a young actor on the cusp of making it big, with good looks, a promising career and a loyal best friend to boot. Everything, it seems, that many a young man might believe he needs in life to be worth anything.
That illusion is quickly shattered when a horrific encounter leaves Hagen brutally disfigured, driving him into the arms of Dr Caitlyn Corr (Naomi Ackie), a brilliant scientist pioneering an experimental treatment that could potentially restore the once-budding actor’s face.
What follows is some of the most grotesque body horror seen on film this year.
The film positively delights in twisting and contorting its subject into shapes that, quite frankly, you might not even have thought the human body capable of assuming. Director James Watkins leans into these horrific transformations with almost surgical precision, never flinching as we watch Hagen grapple with the newfound nightmare of his existence.
The film is carried by its central trio of Harries, Ackie and Max Minghella, with the latter playing John Borrelli, a police officer engaged to Ackie’s brilliant scientist. Minghella has built an impressive career playing understated yet quietly compelling roles, and he continues in this vein to great effect. Yet it is Harries and Ackie who truly command the audience’s attention, inviting us to also experience Hagen’s desperation, ambition and inability to truly level with his actions.
Also interesting is Watkins’ willingness to explore the psychological impact not simply of Hagen’s recent trauma, but of what happens when someone’s entire sense of worth is built upon a support system that is either absent or, perhaps even more dangerously, openly conditional.
Hagen’s insecurity lives directly upon his skin. We see it in every eye twitch, every nervous movement of his fingers, every uncertain smile. Harries delivers a performance that rewards those who pay attention to the smallest of micro-reactions, as his character bounces between despair, insecurity, faux confidence, paranoia and the increasingly disturbing manifestations of his own desires.
Eddie Marsan and Rob Brydon also make welcome appearances in supporting roles, but in reality, the majority of the characters orbit around Harries and Ackie. Their chemistry, and the constant push and pull between their characters, forms the emotional lynchpin of the film.
Harries continually leaves us questioning whether we genuinely want to root for Hagen. We may want to see those who have wronged him receive their comeuppance, but does that necessarily mean we should be rooting for Hagen either? One would argue that in Clayface the well-tread anti-hero boards are fairly abandoned here, for this is played as an out-and-out villain movie.
Clayface is quite rightly an 18-certificate film, and for those who dislike body horror, this is emphatically not the film for you, unless you’re prepared to spend a considerable portion of its runtime watching through your fingers. It’s to the film’s credit that it does this so unflinchingly, even if it might not be to the benefit of your own nerves.
By the time the credits approach, bar the odd references to Gotham and Coast City, perhaps only the ending itself reminds us that Clayface belongs to a larger franchise, one that has spent much of its recent history shuffling about looking to find its footing.
But perhaps that is precisely the trick.
Clayface works well precisely because it doesn’t require a million points of connective reference and stands in the earnestness of its creative convictions.
Yes, we’re in Gotham, but at no point do Batman, Nightwing, Batwoman or Batgirl come swooping in to save the day. Instead, what we have is a tightly constructed story about superficiality, insecurity and the horrifying consequences of toxic behaviour left unchecked.
The pacing is satisfying, barely allowing audiences a moment to catch their breath. Its 108-minute runtime flies by, while the acting performances, the subtle yet impactful score and unbloated narrative work together to create a film that never tries to do too much or too little.
Clayface is rightfully one of the more intriguing big-ticket cinematic offerings of the final quarter of 2026, a prime example of what can happen when filmmakers are allowed to truly push the boundaries of these massive, inescapable franchises.
The unbridled body horror means this film won’t be for everyone. However, if you’re prepared to sit through the tension, embrace the action set-pieces and perhaps clutch the hand of whichever loved one you’ve brought along to the cinema, Clayface offers almost two hours of grotesque, gripping entertainment that is a fantastic addition to the DC Universe precisely because it doesn’t really feel like an shareholder-driven addition to the DC Universe at all.
Clayface hits cinemas on the 23rd of October.