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Don’t judge a book by its cover. It’s what’s on the inside that counts. Looks can be deceiving.

These age-old proverbs come to life in Aaron Schimberg’s “A Different Man,” a film about the disconnect between appearances and identity.

Edward, played by Sebastian Stan, is a man with neurofibromatosis, a genetic condition in which benign tumors grow on nerve tissue. Stan — best known for playing Bucky Barnes, also known as the Winter Soldier, in the Marvel Cinematic Universe — is virtually unrecognizable as Edward, who appears to be a loner: He is stared at and laughed at, returns home only to his cat, and is nervous in almost all of his social interactions. In the film, he starts off working as an actor, and the only job he books is an unfortunate HR video on how to treat coworkers with visible disabilities.

Quite early on, Edward is informed of an experimental reconstructive surgery that would remove his deformities and eventually agrees to go through with it. The technology behind this is vague, but the visuals are strangely futuristic. Shot in 16mm film by Wyatt Garfield, “A Different Man” has a nostalgic quality, but it’s always unclear what exact decade the film is set in.

Edward’s lonely life changes when a new neighbor moves into the apartment next to his. This is Ingrid (Renate Reinsve), an aspiring playwright — audiences may recognize her from “The Worst Person in the World.” Unlike others, she’s shamelessly curious about Edward’s condition.

There’s also a leak in Edward’s ceiling — a detail to which Schimberg continuously calls the audience’s attention through focused shots— that gets bigger and bigger as time passes. One night, the ceiling caves in on Edward, injuring his face. It’s here when Schimberg utilizes elements of body horror, as Edward starts peeling off his skin, revealing “a different man” underneath. It’s an uncomfortable watch, but done in a way that purposefully signals something akin to metamorphosis — Edward’s complete physical transformation.

A long fade to black reveals Edward’s new life, now with Sebastian Stan’s likeness. He works as a realtor under a new name “Guy Moratz,” now profiting from his face.

His double life is disrupted by a newcomer, Oswald (Adam Pearson), an actor with neurofibromatosis. Oswald looks similar to how Edward used to, but he’s far more charismatic. Oswald exudes confidence in a way that Edward never could, ultimately serving as Edward’s foil. While Edward was always weighed down by his fear of other people, Oswald can strike up conversation with just about anyone. In one scene, Oswald sings karaoke and the camera focuses on Edward simply staring in some mixture of awe, anger, and disgust.

The film hurtles down the psychological thriller path as Edward becomes increasingly jealous of and obsessed with Oswald, paired with the realization that his unhappiness was never due to his looks — it was internal. Edward’s fear of being replaced consumes him as he watches in horror while Oswald keeps finding ways into his life.

It’s only towards the end that “A Different Man” starts to feel more frenetic and over-the-top, but Stan and Pearson’s performances make up for an increasingly far-fetched final act. The film loses some of its psychological aspects and instead chronicles a gratuitously extended period of time after the narrative’s main events.

Pearson is phenomenal as Oswald, playing him with an uncanny joie de vivre, while Stan retreats into a quietly menacing presence. Despite some awkward dialogue on Ingrid’s part, Reinsve performs well with both Stan and Pearson, helping to build an off-kilter love triangle that elevates personal tensions.

Umberto Smerilli’s score is fantastic, elevating each scene with eerie, melancholic music. The main theme is a distinct cello-centric melody that can be heard in many variations throughout the film. The soundtrack and cinematography do a huge service to the film’s style, giving it that dingy A24 flair.

An exciting combination of psychological thriller and dark comedy, Schimberg has crafted a unique story about identity and the desire to change it, showing the audience that becoming different isn’t always becoming better.