FRIENDSHIP

Directing: B+
Acting: A-
Writing: B+
Cinematography: B+
Editing: B+

My experience with deeply awkward movies is very similar to that with horror movies. I spend a lot of time covering my face, unable to look at the screen. I might peek through my fingers. This is how I spent a lot of the time watching Friendship.

And, much like with horror movies, I am typically loathe to subject myself to such experiences, or certainly to recommend them to others. I make exceptions for films that transcend the genre. I suppose that makes Friendship the Exorcist of awkward-relationship movies. Except the comparison, made my many others already, to Fatal Attraction is far more apt. Nobody boils a pet in this movie, but there is a scene in which you become terrified that the obsessed character might actually kill somebody.

Marketing a film like Friendship is clearly a tricky task. I sat through the trailer to this at many other movies, always wondering at all the pull quotes from critics talking about how funny it is, while only showing clips that make it look like a disturbing thriller about someone who is increasingly unhinged. It was a very incongruous juxtaposition, and if nothing else, I knew to expect painful awkwardness—and found myself having little interest. But then the movie I was going to see tonight was revealed to have terrible reviews, so I looked over what the other options were. I couldn’t even remember what Friendship was by merely seeing the title on the theater schedule, but I looked it up and was surprised to discover it getting pretty positive attention.

So, my movie companion and I thought: what the hell, why not? Let’s pivot to this other movie where we have no idea whether we’ll be into it or not. I did come across the phrase “the Fatal Attraction of male bonding comedies,” though, and that piqued my interest immediately. That should have been used as the logline.

And, lo and behold Friendship actually is hilarious, the kind of movie that twenty years ago would have quickly gained a cult following. People familiar with Tim Robinson, and particularly his Netflix sketch comedy show I Think You Should Leave (which, full disclosure, I have never watched, may not be so surprised by this. But he is by far the best thing about Friendship, turning in an amazing performance as Craig, the socially awkward app developer who forms an unlikely friendship with his new neighbor.

The neighbor, Austin (Paul Rudd), is a local weatherman with his own insecurities, the kind of guy you wouldn’t particularly want to hang out with either but who feels like a straight up everyman compared to Craig. Craig’s wife, Tami (Kate Mara), encourages him to accept Austin’s invitation to come over for a drink. Tami has her own things to deal with, such as a fledgeling floral business and an almost-uncomfortably intimate relationship with their teenage son (Jack Dylan Grazer, previously the lead in the deeply underrated HBO limited series We Are Who We Are).

When Craig and Austin first hang out, it’s just the two of them, and Austin manages to take the awkwardness in stride. It’s when he gets invited to a group hangout with Austin’s other friends that the awkwardness begins to go truly sideways. The plot then follows a familiar arc, but it feels fresh because of the context: an obsessive man-crush taken up too many notches. Craig starts calling Austin too frequently, he shows up unannounced at inappropriate times and places, and tries to emulate some of Austin’s reckless but cool behavior, but at which Craig is deeply inept.

Rudd is well cast as the weatherman whose own social skills lack any genuine depth. But Robinson is the one who truly shines here, the single source of a great many uniquely fantastic comic moments. The parade of expressions that flash across Craig’s face is a delight unto its own, as he reacts with confusion, then suppresses it with quick denial. Robinson can be skillfully subtle one moment, then singularly over the top the next. Truly, I laughed far more at Friendship than I expected to.

Some people love the emotional turn of laughter through tears, What Friendship has to offer is laughter through suspense, a nagging sense of danger, such as when Craig goes to deliver one of the many packages that keeps getting delivered to his house by mistake, and then finds himself causally walking through Austin’s unlocked home. We don’t even know if Austin is there. And when Craig finds something truly dangerous in Austin’s office, we know Chekhov has been paged. This pays off spectacularly later.

Friendship pays off, in all senses of the phrase. This is a delicate performance walking a delicate line, and a quite impressive one at that. Offering a familiar story arc that still manages not to be predictable is no small feat. It’s all in the details, and the best details are in Tim Robinson’s performance, which is both weird and nuanced. We’ve all been in group settings with that one guy who has no idea he’s the oddball no one really likes but no one wants to hurt his feelings. If you haven’t, then maybe you’re that guy. Friendship gives us all a lot to think about.

Letting the dangerous naïveté blossom in Friendship.

Overall: B+