Friendship

My husband and I can't stop talking about this film and what different scenes meant. We laughed throughout it with a theater of people, but were surprised about its philosophical message and provoking themes in what it means to be an American man in 2025. I know the middle-aged men portrayed in this film, many of them used to not married to my friends, and a few still can't seem to figure out how to connect to the people in their lives. I hate how this platform forces you to use a minimum number of words, but I'm going to do it because this film is a solid 8+ and I hate that it's currently at 7.7 when it's so much better than that if you're a thinking person.

When it comes to the topic of the male psyche and what inherently makes us male, the usual trope falls into the typical realm of heroism, stoicism and aggression. You can't get that woman you like unless you are willing to take on an army and exhibit confidence in the moment. Trouble is, the so-called man that needs that confidence is played by men like Henry Cavil or Ryan Gosling, not some every day run of the mill man.

Much like another film that tackled the male psyche that came out last year, that being A Different Man, Friendship tackles another side of the equation. While A Different Man dealt with identity and accepting your true self, Friendship is a bizarre comedy tackling why it is so hard to make friends. Tim Robinson plays Craig Waterman, a lonely, somewhat self centered man who has no filter and extremely poor social skills. He lacks emotional maturity and also self awareness about his grating personality. It's hard to imagine how he got married and stayed so for 16 years, but that is besides the point. We get a sense that Craig's schtick has grown tired as his wife is visibly having an emotional affair with an old ex and his son is becoming more and more distant. His lack of self awareness is meant to illustrate his loneliness is not because of awkwardness or because of social anxiety, but because his personality is completely devoid of modern mores. The good thing is the film doesn't blame this attitude due to a condition or due to past trauma, we are to assume he has always been this way. Then he meets Austin, played with usual charm by Paul Rudd.

In a lot of ways, Austin is the ideal man when we first meet him. Self assured, smooth and free. Unlike the corporatized Craig, he introduces a new world to Craig filled with friendship, connection and emotional availability. Trouble is, Craig is ill prepared to morph into this world of friendship. His mental state declines, all the while seeing how a man should deal with the pressures society puts on some men. While Austin struggles at first with his new change in life, he ultimately evens out and finds a way to deal with his promotion at work... like an actualized and emotional mature man should act. Craig on the other hand descends into an immature boy, seeking out creature comforts and trying to recapture an older version of himself rather than dealing with a new and evolving situation.

The final act is where much of Craig's disintegration occurs. He even states men shouldn't even have friends to begin with. Of course, this all plays out in a deeply sad string of events for Craig, leading to a shocking finale.

Now, I don't consider this an all encompassing foray into the world or men and how to build friendships, but it certainly is more realistic than another Rudd vehicle like I Love You Man. While much of society dismisses the struggles many men endure, the toughest has to be with male bonding. There is a reason why the alt-right is rife with angry men and some of the worst opinions are held by men. The lack of emotional maturity has made it easy to recruit these types, giving them a support mechanism that becomes "habit forming." Becoming a part of a team and then getting kicked off that team can be gut wrenching to many, especially if you don't have another "team" to jump into. And then you have an example like Craig Waterman, a man with no capability of reading a room and has most likely been hanging on by a thread for years. While I'm a completely different person, I feel his loneliness. Being an atheist tree hugging vegan in a small right wing that loves hunting and steak, I've been something of a prisoner of my own doing. It's not that I really can't make friends, but who is going to relate to me when I tell a gun loving, fly fishing conservative that I don't eat steak due to an ethical philosophy I adopted years before. How does a man that loves Art, film and philosophy relate to people who aren't as educated on these subjects without coming off as a massive elitist? It would probably be like the moment Austin tells Craig he doesn't want to be friends after a rather awkward and unsettling moment occurs between them.

While Craig is definitely a man forged by his own experiences, you still feel bad for him. It's clear he doesn't fit anywhere in the world, and hence his outbursts become more and more outrageous as he finally understands this. But that is the quandary. Men have been taught individualism so much that it's hard to accept the idea that we are not wrong in our thoughts and we should not adjust our ideals to fit. Even I struggle with that, knowing there are few options for me at any restaurant or public eatery and it's best to just stay at home and make some quinoa and beans. I don't wanna be that guy at the restaurant table that has to ask a million questions about the food prep. Just give me the drink menu and a cheeseless and dressing less side salad. It's even affected my dating life, especially since I am nowhere near a large selection of my own kind and many have predisposed assumptions about me. So yes, in a lot of ways I empathize with Craig, though our own prisons are of different designs. There is also a lot of other things in the film that only men will really get, like our lack of depth in our conversations and the cruelty we may play on outsiders. But that is the male condition unfortunately, and too many of us are stuck on that hamster wheel just trying to deal with a society that continues to be aloof to our own unique problems.

I saw this with about 40 other people. 20 were mostly laughing, the others ( me included) sat in silence.

I cannot fault the acting. Tim Robinson was really good portraying a man never at ease with himself and in a constant state of anxiety around others. He seems very aware that he doesn't fit in. The fact that he has an actractive wife (Kate Mara), who is working her arse off on her business that he in no way helps or offers encouragement gives him any confidence.

She just goes on with her business and the job of keeping her family together.

I just did not find much humor in a film that offered one cringe worthy scene after another. Like watching a car wreck waiting for the blood.

This indie comedy from A24 can sometimes feel a bit uneven, but its deadpan and blunt humor that also provides more thoughtful and subtextual commentary on male friendships under the surface makes it engaging and worth watching. The film focuses on Craig (Tim Robinson,) a marketing executive and father who befriends his neighbor Austin (Paul Rudd,) who is a weatherman.

Like many "slice of life" independent films, "Friendship" doesn't have a clear and thorough plot as its narrative backbone. Yet the writing is sharp and clever enough, and the two leads interesting enough that things still mostly work pretty well. The humor is able to balance more straightforward comedy with more dark and offbeat humor pretty well, particularly by showing that Craig's desire for connection is well-intentioned, but also risky. At 97 minutes, the film is pretty well-paced and never feels too long or too short. It does a good job at keeping the viewer engaged throughout. While the character development of Craig and Austin is not exceptional or truly unique, it is thorough and well-written enough to keep the viewer interested and justify the film progressing in the ways that it does. The film's humor isn't always consistently funny, but when it works (particularly in the first 45 minutes,) it really works. What holds the film back from being truly great is the lack of a directly emotional payoff and narrative stakes. In particular, there could have been a more compelling conclusion. That said, this is still a worthwhile dark comedy. Recommended. 7.5/10.

At first glance, Friendship plays like it's gearing up to be a quirky indie comedy - awkward banter, strained smiles, and just enough charm to make you think you're in for a sad-sack buddy flick with heart. But then something shifts. Slowly. Quietly. And by the time the third act rolls around, you realize you're not watching a comedy at all. You're watching a slow-motion car wreck of emotional codependence and social decay - and you're in the passenger seat.

The film's real trick (and possibly its curse) is how it messes with your sympathy. I started off feeling sorry for Robinson's character - lonely, vulnerable, maybe a little pathetic. But as the story peeled back layers, that pity curdled into discomfort. Then resentment. Then something colder. And yet, by the end, I still wasn't sure if I hated him or just hated how much of him I recognized.

That emotional whiplash is probably the movie's greatest strength - and maybe its biggest obstacle. This is not a film that wants you to feel good. It wants you to squirm. It wants you to sit in the tension between wanting to help someone and realizing you might be feeding the very dysfunction you're trying to escape. That's powerful. It's also exhausting.

The writing is sharp, but it doesn't hold your hand. The pacing is deliberate (read: slow), the tone slippery, and the morality murky. You can tell this film wants to be part of the post-Anora wave - intimate, raw, and morally complex - but it lacks Anora's clarity and brutal elegance. Instead, Friendship smudges the lines until everything feels a little too fuzzy to fully land.

If Friendship is about anything, it might be this: the strange, sad reasons we keep toxic people in our lives. Loneliness. Obligation. Habit. Fear of what comes after letting go. It's a film that doesn't provide answers - just a long, uncomfortable mirror.

I give it a 6.5 out of 10. It's well-made. It's interesting. It hits hard. But it also left me more overwrought than enlightened. There's value in that, sure - but I'm not in a hurry to go through it again.