Andrew DeYoung’s Friendship, opening in theaters this Friday, May 16th via A24, is a riotous plunge into the deep end of suburban male loneliness, toxic admiration, and the desperate yearning for connection. Led by a career-best performance from Tim Robinson, this film is part cringe comedy, part psychological unraveling, and entirely unforgettable.
Robinson plays Craig Waterman, a painfully awkward suburban dad whose life is quietly imploding. He works a dead-end PR job, his marriage to Tami (Kate Mara) is hanging by a thread, and his teenage son Steven (Jack Dylan Grazer) treats him with the kind of cold politeness reserved for disappointing authority figures. Things only get worse (and much funnier) when the Watermans get a new neighbor: Austin Carmichael (Paul Rudd), a smugly charming local weatherman who Craig becomes instantly obsessed with.
The plot is deceptively simple—Craig just wants to be Austin’s friend—but Friendship transforms that premise into a horror-adjacent descent into social desperation. Imagine I Think You Should Leave stretched into an hour-and-a-half-long fever dream, but with higher emotional stakes and a Slipknot needle-drop that somehow makes perfect, chaotic sense. If that sounds like your thing, you’re in for a treat.
Tim Robinson proves he’s not just a niche sketch comedian—he’s a force. Craig’s spiral from uncomfortable to unhinged is both hilarious and unsettling, and Robinson sells every beat. Sometimes, all it takes is a look from him to provoke howls of laughter. And while not every joke lands (a few gags hang around a little too long), Robinson’s fearless commitment keeps the energy high and the laughs frequent. A moment where he’s ousted from a friend group marks the turning point of the film—and the beginning of Craig’s total meltdown.
Paul Rudd, playing a slightly toned-down version of his Anchorman persona, is excellent in the film’s first half as the impossibly cool guy Craig longs to impress. His smooth charm starts to wear thin as the film goes on, but that’s the point: Austin is just as hollow as Craig is needy. Luckily, as Rudd’s character plateaus, Robinson cranks up the absurdity and never lets off the gas.
The film’s editing is sometimes sharp and clever, heightening the surreal tone, though it can get distracting in a few spots. There’s a loose, improvisational feel to much of the dialogue (you get the sense entire hilarious subplots were left on the cutting room floor), and a handful of side characters—especially Tony the phone kid and a perfectly unhinged cameo from Conner O’Malley—steal scenes with lines you’ll want to quote immediately.
Underneath the absurdity, Friendship has something real to say about fragile masculinity and the awkward terrain of adult male friendship. It’s a cautionary tale dressed as a comedy, with moments that eerily echo films like One Hour Photo, but with a Slipknot soundtrack and punchlines that make you snort.
Friendship may feel like a sketch comedy bit stretched to feature-length, but that’s not a flaw—it’s a feature. If you’re on Robinson’s wavelength, you’ll be quoting this for weeks. Nice job, you fuckin’ cock.
Jessie Hobson