Entre amis

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.

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.

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.

I imagine some people have a lot of trouble explaining Tim Robinson. I think I can. He is the new champion of anti-comedy. Anti-comedy is almost a performance art unto itself and would suggest a uniquely higher level of understanding of what is funny and what is not, and then taking what is not funny and making it funny. It feels almost accidental, but it isn't. The original master was Andy Kaufman, and since his untimely death in 1984, he's had many unsuccessful imitators. We very nearly had a second-coming in Tom Green, until he took things completely over the line with Freddy Got Fingered, a film that strived to be a surrealist masterpiece and ended up being the Pink Flamingos of the 21st century. But now, in 2025, we have Tim Robinson and I think he's just about mastered this difficult technique. Perhaps by sheer virtue of the fact that he looks supremely uncomfortable at all times. He's the human embodiment of a caged rat being poked incessantly with a stick. There's a level of fear and confusion, mixed with a hair-triggered rage that could ignite at any moment. He looks and behaves like the most maladjusted human on earth. Then you take that person and make him a full-fledged comedian. Perhaps this is part of his comedic routine, but whatever it is, he's got that Kaufman "It" factor that's needed.

Enter, Friendship. If ever you needed to know what a Tim Robinson movie would be like, this is what it is. Some would say it's a 90-minute I Think You Should Leave skit, and you'd very much be right. This is a dark comedy about why grown men shouldn't have bromances. That said, it's 97 minutes of exactly how far Tim Robinson can take that premise. The sky isn't even the limit here. Robinson explores obsession and insecurity through the eyes of a man who has zero control over his impulsive thoughts. The rest of the cast looks on in terror, especially Paul Rudd, who approaches the role similarly to how he did in I Love You, Man. But a classic Judd Apatow-universe comedy this isn't. This is Tim Robinson's unhinged world and we are all held hostage.

I haven't laughed this hard in a movie theater in a decade. Studio comedies are dead. Comedy movies, in general, have dried up worse than the Mojave Desert. A24, I can attest, might be about to change that, and they have the right man to do it. If we could get a Tim Robinson comedy movie once a year, I'd be very happy.

I, admittedly, cringe very easily. I can't watch reality shows because the awkward conflict makes me uncomfortable. I like Tim Robinson sometimes when his outrageousness is so over the top that it's just separate from reality. In this film, he is great, as is Paul Rudd, and frankly everyone. The cringe is low key enough in most scenes to make you truly squirm. I found myself squirming far more than laughing in this movie. It was weird, wild, and unique. I liked it and it stuck with me. I am sure that the discomfort I felt watching it was the point. If you like that cringey feeling, you will really like this movie.