Clayface brings body horror to DC’s new film slate, raising a question about whether a slower, more varied superhero universe can hold audience interest.
DC’s Clayface puts a practical question to its new film universe: can a connected franchise make room for movies that stand on their own? The R-rated horror film has only a slim tie to the wider DC world, and its arrival tests whether creative variety can make up for a slower release schedule.
A different kind of DC film
James Gunn and producing partner Peter Safran took charge of DC Studios in 2022 with a difficult brief: reset the company’s recent superhero films, plan a new slate and launch it with a movie Gunn would direct. That first film was 2025’s Superman. Warner Bros. had spent years trying to build a shared superhero franchise to rival Marvel’s, with many of its earlier films shaped by Zack Snyder’s darker style. Some found an audience, but the larger effort never achieved the same cultural reach.
The timing of the reset matters. Marvel continues to release films, though at a more measured pace, while several other attempts at sprawling superhero franchises have faded. The audience may also be tiring of stories that treat each ending as a setup for the next installment, hold back satisfying resolutions and use cameos in place of strong writing. A connected world can make a series feel bigger, but it can also turn each film into another obligation.
Gunn and Safran have signaled that DC will try to avoid some of those weaknesses. Gunn has said films should receive approval only after their scripts are complete, and that directors should be able to shape the projects they lead. He has also described a slate where films in the same franchise can differ in genre and tone. That would mark a change from the highly coordinated production model associated with Marvel, where a consistent house style can bring visual and comic uniformity, and where reshoots and incomplete scripts have sometimes made films feel like episodes in a larger production.
Clayface is a useful test of that promise. The slate began with Gunn’s upbeat, broadly accessible Superman. This summer brought Supergirl, directed by Craig Gillespie, whose attempt at dark cynicism was criticized as anonymous. Clayface moves in another direction: a gory body-horror story about a Batman villain, with little apparent dependence on other DC characters.
Tom Rhys Harries plays Matt Hagen, an aspiring actor whose face is disfigured in a violent attack by a gangster. Hagen turns to experimental nanotechnology to restore his appearance. The treatment leaves him with strange abilities: he can sometimes change into another person, while at other times his own features seem to melt away. The result is a visual-effects-heavy horror film with gruesome moments. Its clearest connection to the broader franchise is its setting in Gotham City.
The premise has a comic-book foundation. Clayface is one of Batman’s recurring foes, a shape-shifting, mudlike creature who battles the hero. But DC’s new version of the franchise has yet to introduce its Batman. Robert Pattinson’s Batman belongs to a separate series, and there’s no immediate plan to bring that character into Gunn’s world. Keeping another Batman off the screen for now may avoid adding to an already crowded field of portrayals. Still, a film about one of his lesser-known enemies can feel hard to place when the central hero and his world remain undefined.
How much connection does a franchise need?
That tension reaches beyond one unusual film. Gunn is developing projects with distinct identities, and the studio has had some success on television. Lanterns has drawn strong ratings on HBO Max, while the mockumentary The People vs. Gorilla Grodd is planned for 2027. Yet a slower pace means audiences may see only one or two DC projects in a year. A loosely connected story can then feel like a small fragment of a world that hasn’t had time to take shape.
Marvel’s higher output has overwhelmed some viewers, but regular releases can help a shared universe feel coherent and give audiences more reasons to stay invested. The challenge for DC is to build familiarity without sacrificing the range Gunn has promised. Clayface suggests that the films may be allowed to take risks; whether those risks add up to a compelling whole will depend on how the next releases connect, and how often audiences get to see them.
Also in the newsletter
The featured reading is “50 Unforgettable Love Stories,” a list of English-language novels, poems, plays and short stories selected by scholars, librarians, critics, authors and colleagues. Its premise is that romantic love has shaped literature for centuries, from ancient ideas about finding a person who completes us to the joys and pain explored in fiction. Read the full article.
The newsletter also reports leadership changes at Netflix. Chief content officer Bela Bajaria left on October 15, followed a day later by Dan Lin, who led the film division. Lin had joined in 2024 with a mandate to control spending. The newsletter suggests Netflix may now be shifting back toward prestige filmmaking, with former Warner Bros. executives Michael De Luca and Pam Abdy reportedly in talks to take over. Their relationships with directors such as Ryan Coogler and Paul Thomas Anderson could support that direction.
One possible sign of a change is renewed discussion of guaranteed theatrical releases. Netflix has only recently begun moving toward cinema releases for selected films, including Greta Gerwig’s Narnia: The Magician’s Nephew, David Fincher’s The Further Mis-Adventures of Cliff Booth and a sequel to KPop Demon Hunters. Whether the company will make theatrical distribution a larger part of its strategy remains an open question.
Among the films highlighted for the week is Wildwood, a stop-motion fantasy from Laika, directed by company chief executive Travis Knight. Based on the first book in Colin Meloy’s Wildwood Chronicles, the film spent 15 years in development and five in production. Its more than two-hour runtime and PG-13 action make it an ambitious choice for an animated family outing, and the story also reflects Knight’s connection to Portland, where he grew up.
The other recommendation is Wicker, a folk comedy starring Olivia Colman as a reclusive fisherwoman who hires a local weaver, played by Peter Dinklage, to make her a husband from wicker. Alexander Skarsgard plays the resulting scarecrow-like figure. Though the setup could suggest horror, the film is described as a wry satire of patriarchal relationships set in medieval times. Both picks point to the same appeal: films can find their own tone without needing to fit a single franchise mold.
