Andrew DeYoung’s biting look at middle-aged male bonding evokes raucous laughs and existential dread
Tim Robinson has carved out a prominent niche in 2020’s comedy with his maniacally abrasive, mountain-out-of-a-molehill reactions to life’s most absurdly relatable situations. Sometimes we’re out to find love, other times we’re just in it for the zipline; sometimes they move that one work meeting to lunch; sometimes you think for a brief moment there’s monsters on the Earth, but at least you don’t have to go to work if you get eaten. If anything compares to the volume-shredding insanity of Robinson’s I Think You Should Leave, it’s the work of fellow cinematic absurdist Yorgos Lanthimos–both Robinson and Lanthimos crank the most inane situations to eleven while playing them completely straight, highlighting the naturally bemusing contradictions between human impulse and societal expectation.
Andrew DeYoung’s TIFF hit, Friendship, marks Robinson’s first major film since his breakout Netflix sketch success–and it effectively and excruciatingly translates his signature chaos to feature length. Bolstered by Paul Rudd’s weaponized charisma, DeYoung channels Tim Robinson’s relatable rage into an oddly touching experience that finds destructive harmony between genuine connection and alienating, anarchic self-interest.
Craig (Tim Robinson) is a middle-aged suburban father who leaves little room for social interaction between his morally ambiguous app job and a stiflingly dull family life. When he’s not searching for new ways to make addicts out of app users, he’s desperately trying to persuade his wife Tami (Kate Mara) and son Steven (Jack Dylan Grazer) to watch the new Marvel (“I hear this one is nuts.”). A misdelivered package introduces Craig to his new neighbor Austin (Paul Rudd), who embodies everything Craig seemingly admires. He’s effortlessly cool, armed with a repertoire of charming quips; he nonchalantly brushes off authority while enjoying his Weatherman gig on the nightly news; he’s a guitarist in a punk band.
Importantly, while Craig’s family and friends find reasons to avoid him, Austin wants to be friends with Craig. A spontaneous day off spent mushroom hunting and urban exploring in the sewers sets up the new bond between Craig and Austin for success. Unfortunately, a string of painfully awkward encounters when Craig meets Austin’s other friends prompts Austin to distance himself, leaving Craig feeling desperate and willing to do anything to regain Austin’s friendship.
As one might expect from a Robinson/Rudd pairing, Friendship excels at being a charmingly grating endurance test for audiences. Nearly every scene centers on Craig’s attempts to connect with the people in his orbit, only to get lost in some minutiae he feels is the key to a successful conversation or relationship–blowing situations viscerally out of control. DeYoung’s direction and screenplay effectively trap audiences in the horror and hilarity of each bizarre interaction, all of which play directly into Robinson’s honed strengths as a comedian.
Though Craig’s reactions can go to deeply unpleasant extremes–there’s always some kernel of relatable truth to every knot-twisting moment. In Friendship‘s case, it’s the uncomfortable reality that friendship is hard work as we get older, especially if meeting new people also forces us to confront the roads we never took in getting to where we are today. DeYoung also makes room for trenchant insights into spousal regret and how we cling to specific items or hobbies as totems of personality the more our work and family obligations swallow up any other time to explore who we are, or how we’re changing.
In refreshing contrast to Robinson’s earlier work, nearly every character exhibits some degree of Robinson’s near-fourth-wall-breaking exasperation. Rudd portrays Austin as an embodiment of Craig’s imagined ideal of a “cool” person, with almost every line of dialogue resembling an inspirational sticker slogan about individualism and positive masculinity. Rudd’s unmistakable charm elevates this on-the-page absurdity to fantastic comic heights, whether it involves one of Austin’s guys’ nights or several bizarre excursions into city sewers in search of a pathway to city hall. Kate Mara stands out as Craig’s wife Tami, playing things as straight as possible while remaining true to the strange world created by DeYoung, Robinson, and Rudd. Her earnest and strained attempts to cope with her husband’s alien behavior provide Friendship with necessary dramatic weight, creating another painful emotional fuel Robinson’s Craig feeds on in his quest for the approval of those he cares about.
Alongside Mara’s gravitas, Friendship’s cinematography by Andy Rydzewski and editing by Sophie Corra also help temper the film’s comedic extremes. From the audience reaction at SXSW, Friendship elicited the kind of screams brought out by horror films as much as crowd-pleasing comedies. Thanks to the uncomfortable amount of commitment by DeYoung’s creatives both behind and in front of the camera, Friendship becomes a unique genre experience you’ll love as much as you’ll hate.
Friendship had its US Premiere at SXSW 2025, with a theatrical release coming on May 9, 2025 from A24.
