Friendship, 2025.
Written and Directed by Andrew DeYoung.
Starring Tim Robinson, Paul Rudd, Kate Mara, Jack Dylan Grazer, Rick Worthy, Whitmer Thomas, Daniel London, Eric Rahill, Jacob Ming-Trent, Billy Bryk, Meredith Garretson, Ari Dalbert, Josh Segarra, Raphael Sbarge, Omar Torres, Jason Veasey, Jon Glaser, Carmen Christopher, Mike J Mills, Alex Webb, Juri Henley-Cohn, Desi Waters, Brandi Burkhardt, Andhy Méndez, John Cenatiempo, Teren Carter, Ivy Wolk, Conner O’Malley, Craig Frank, and James Daly.
SYNOPSIS:
A suburban dad falls hard for his charismatic new neighbor.
Writer/director Andrew DeYoung doesn’t waste any time letting us know what kind of person Tim Robinson’s Craig is in the maddeningly hysterical Friendship (and while I haven’t personally seen the Netflix series, anyone who has watched him on I Think You Should Leave probably has a general idea). When his wife Tami (Kate Mara) mentions during a group therapy session for cancer survivors that she hasn’t been having orgasms, Craig unsolicitedly chimes in that he is regularly having them. From that, it’s easy to gather that he is somewhat self-absorbed, but also a potentially harmless idiot, given that this is a comedy. Those things are true and then some: Craig is also a walking disaster of insecurities with a desperate need for validation.
The above is something Craig doesn’t even realize until Tami suggests he make a male friend rather than sitting on the couch every night, interrupting quality time between her and his teenage son Steven (Jack Dylan Grazer). He also rambles nonstop about wanting to see the new “Marvel” because it’s apparently crazy and insane (so surely this film is set about seven Marvel movies back…) sounding more clueless about the entire saga and comic/superhero culture, implying that he’s either plain weird or also itching to be socially accepted. Observing Craig (and laughing at him) is akin to watching someone trying to fit in, without having the most basic understanding of what they are trying to fit into.
Craig is also stubborn, so naturally, he pushes against his wife’s advice, which is likely why she routinely mentions wanting to visit her ex-partner. Nevertheless, a postal delivery to the wrong address forces Craig to head over to the neighbor, who turns out to be Paul Rudd’s effortlessly cool nighttime weatherman, Austin. Immediately, there is a clear juxtaposition in their lives: Craig is a lame marketing guru with no shame that his role is to get average people addicted to junk products, and he is seemingly deemed boring by his co-workers. They show him little respect and, as seen during a scene where Craig slowly walks through a narrow hallway holding scalding hot coffee, he is often a nuisance. Meanwhile, Austin is good at his job, on TV every night, plays in a rock band on the side, is happily married, and throws some exciting hangout sessions with his friend group.
Initially, Austin takes Craig under his wing, showing him how to be more adventurous while broadening his taste in music, which is mostly a justifiable excuse for Andrew DeYoung to make some fantastic use of Slipknot’s classic banger Wait and Bleed. Soon, Craig is copying Austin by cooking his family new meals for breakfast, driving around to the same music, and is tempted to become a drummer. He also fibs to Austin about how respected he is, encouraging him to ask for the daytime weather slot if he wants it, because that’s what works for him.
One night, while hanging out with the guys, Craig takes a particular activity too far and then embarrasses himself without realizing how weird he is during his apology gesture. Unsurprisingly, Austin breaks the friendship off. The film is already hilarious, but the outrageousness is only upped from there as Craig goes to absurd lengths to regain that friendship while blindly setting himself on a self-destructive path in his personal life. Meanwhile, some insecurities and missteps are going on in Austin’s life, with the difference being he knows how to hide them from his inner circle (the myth of Paul Rudd not aging is weaponized for laughable effect here). Sometimes, one wishes the film were more balanced with their screen time, as there appears to be more going on with Austin than the movie fully gets into.
Friendship is a comedy so funny, the gags shouldn’t even be talked about. What makes the film special is that Andrew DeYoung doesn’t have to pivot into a dramatic third act, which wore out its welcome during the Judd Apatow era of comedy (and even in some before then). The goal is to elicit laughs throughout, while weaving the characterization and observations on obsession and toxic male friendships into the hilarity. Andrew DeYoung also pulls off some impressive callbacks to some of these bits, confidently setting them up before catching the viewer off guard and putting them in stitches all over again.
It may be premature, but this won’t be easy to top as the funniest pure comedy of the year. In my defense, Hollywood disappointingly stopped seeing the appeal, shoving that genre into an assortment of typically low-effort streaming options. That’s not to say Friendship is perfect: it could have done more with some supporting characters and established plot points. There are also a couple of bizarre dynamics that give one the impression Andrew DeYoung wanted to push them further but didn’t, possibly to maintain a somewhat mainstream appeal.
This film is often so caught up in its ridiculousness that it could crumble apart at any moment, just like the friendship at the center of this loose narrative. It doesn’t. If anything, Friendship only becomes increasingly hilarious and unsettlingly unhinged the longer it goes on.
Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★ ★ ★
Robert Kojder is a member of the Chicago Film Critics Association, Critics Choice Association, and Online Film Critics Society. He is also the Flickering Myth Reviews Editor. Check here for new reviews and follow my BlueSky or Letterboxd
