‘Friendship’ Hilariously Asks the Question, “What If Some Dudes Deserve To Be Isolated?”

There are a lot of headlines these days about “male isolation” and “friendship recession,” detailing the reasons why men seem to be forming fewer deep bonds with other men. Remote work and less participation in church or other community structures limit social exposure, while toxic masculinity pressures men to avoid emotional intimacy. Enter Friendship, A24’s cringey new bro-com that boldly asks the question: “OK, but what if some dudes deserve to be isolated?”

Not all dudes, mind you, but definitely Craig Waterman, played by I Think You Should Leave’s Tim Robinson. Perhaps the most surprising part of Friendship is simply that Robinson didn’t write the role of the desperate middle-aged dad for himself. Instead, writer/director Andrew DeYoung crafted the role with Robinson in mind, and he was so successful that it’s impossible to imagine any other actor slipping into that ugly brown puffer coat. Craig, as a character, and the movie as a whole, only truly work because Robinson pours every ounce of his signature manic, melancholic, unhinged energy into the part, like some cringe-inducing ouroboros. Is the movie darkly comic because Robinson is the lead, or is Robinson the lead because the movie is darkly comic?

I’ll never know, because I watched the whole thing through my fingers while slouched down in my theater seat like it was the goriest of horror flicks. Blood doesn’t scare me, but social awkwardness makes me squirm. And man, was awkward splattered all over this thing. But even through the full-body cringe, I laughed hard — and so did the entire theater.

The movie begins with a mail misdelivery meet-cute between Craig and his new neighbor, Austin, played by Paul Rudd in another inspired bit of casting. Rudd is the quintessential “charismatic, cool yet goofy guy” who is destined to be addictively aspirational to a stick-in-the-mud like Craig. Austin is a weatherman! He has a punk(ish?) band! Meanwhile, Craig’s claim to fame is getting speed bumps installed in their neighborhood. Austin soon invites Craig over for a beer — an invitation Craig’s wife Tami (Kate Mara) accepts on his behalf, to get her husband out of the house for a change. They get to know each other over an impromptu adventure into the city sewers, leading to a City Hall break-in so they can drink beers on the rooftop, and the friendship dynamic quickly snaps into focus. It’s all one-sided, power-pitched in Austin’s favor as Craig’s admiration turns obsessive, but it’s not all bad. Craig begins to change, becoming a more loving partner and father as he takes his cues from his exciting new pal, and with Craig as his cheerleader, even Austin begins to dream of bigger things for himself.

The inevitable twist comes when Austin invites Craig to a group hang, which triggers his insecurities even as it offers him a tantalizing picture of what it’s like to have even more friends. To be a part of a supporting, loving, fun tribe of men who share their feelings and sing songs and box and … uh oh. Craig reads the cues wrong with the boxing, punches Austin too hard, and destroys the mood. And then his new friends ice him out of the group completely.

Craig can’t let go, but doesn’t have the emotional tools to resolve his rejection either, and so this one social faux pas begins to destabilize his entire existence. He takes Tami to the sewers to impress her the way Austin impressed him, only to lose her in the tunnels. He takes more misdelivered mail to Austin’s house, and when nobody answers the door, he kinda sorta just … breaks in. And rifles through Austin’s stuff. He attempts to find himself through a psychedelic toad venom trip, only to spend hours on the floor of a cell phone store dreaming about ordering a Subway sandwich.

Robinson’s gift is that he plays everything straight, albeit to the rafters, making all the worst decisions in such an earnest way that you sort of want to root for him and turn your back on him at the same time. Even Austin finds it hard to extricate himself completely from Craig’s orbit, partially due to Craig’s own determination and partially because Craig has seen secret sides of Austin nobody else has. And isn’t that what friendship is, really? Craig may be social napalm, but he cherishes Austin’s vulnerabilities and has his back in a way no other bros do.

Things get bad for Craig, then better, then even worse again before the credits roll. DeYoung’s script is a marvel of sharp little details that enrich what could otherwise be a pale vignette, even as the plot sometimes leaves threads dangling — although even that lends itself to the unsettling mood as we wait for a resolution suitable to a movie, but not life. Instead, all we get is a patented Rudd wink, as inscrutable as it is charming. A wink to launch a thousand more bro-ships.

Friendship is in theaters now.