FILM REVIEW: "Friendship" is a perfectly unhinged fever-dream of male connection
There are films designed to be universally palatable, easily digestible by all audiences. Then there are films like Friendship: polarising by design, gleefully absurd, and unapologetically unhinged. It’s anchored by its lead, Tim Robinson, best known for I Think You Should Leave, and anyone familiar with his work knows that his brand of acquired-taste comedy is a high-octane fever dream of sheer nonsense. It's the kind of thing you either immediately connect with or find completely impenetrable; there’s rarely any middle ground.
But what sets Friendship apart is how effectively director Andrew DeYoung takes Robinson’s anarchic energy and bottles it within an actual narrative. Instead of feeling like a collection of strung-together sketches (a common trap when translating sketch comedy to film), Friendship is surprisingly coherent, peppered with well-defined characters, purposeful visual style, and emotional through-lines. The result is something like a Frankenstein’s monster: part indie comedy, part psychological thriller(?), part Tim Robinson meltdown.
At its core, the film is about male connection. The awkwardness of initiating adult friendships, the fear of rejection, and the existential spiral that can follow when a bond doesn’t pan out. Of course, all of that is turned up to eleven in classic Robinson fashion. He plays Craig Waterman, a suburban husband and father whose life feels increasingly empty, stuck in a lukewarm marriage with his wife Tami (Kate Mara, expertly toeing the line between the real and the off-kilter in a subtle performance). When he befriends his charismatic neighbour Austin (Paul Rudd), it feels like a lifeline — until Peter abruptly rejects the friendship, sending Robinson’s character into a deranged emotional tailspin.
Paul Rudd is perfectly cast as the foil to Robinson’s chaos. He brings his signature everyman charm, grounding the story while also matching the film’s increasingly devolving absurdism. Rudd is, of course, no stranger to this particular genre of comedy, having done films like Wet Hot American Summer and We Came Together. Together, the two form a kind of twisted Joker-Batman dynamic that you can’t help but cringe at over Friendship’s entire run time (but in a good way?)
The film approaches the absurdity with style, from the eerie chant-filled score by Keegan DeWitt, to its Hereditary-esque colour palette. And throughout all of this, DeYoung’s direction is sharp. Every joke, every frame, every visual gag feels placed with intention. This could have easily been just a string of I Think You Should Leave sketches loosely connected by a plot, but it isn’t. There’s structure here — the story builds, layers accumulate, and the whole thing makes a kind of manic, emotional sense as it barrels toward its conclusion.
If you can leave your sanity behind and drink the Kool-Aid, Friendship will be one of the funniest movies you’ll see this year. But it isn't just a laugh riot. It’s also a sneaky, sharp take on the loneliness of modern adulthood and the weird, needy vulnerability of wanting someone to like you. Whether you're already a Tim Robinson devotee or just brave enough to walk into his world, try to see Friendship in theatres with a packed audience. Maybe the real comedy is the friends we make (and lose) along the way.
