“Friendship” Film Review
This film is a tough sit-through—an uncomfortable journey into the worst-case version of everyday life.
It’s practically a masterclass in how to fumble every situation: suburban life, fragile masculinity, personal ego, and the grind of the workplace. If there’s a wrong choice to be made, this film’s protagonist finds it.
You might assume the trailer gives away the whole plot, but it doesn’t. It only scratches the surface of the awkward spiral you’re about to witness. The story doesn’t move in a straight line, and that’s exactly what keeps you watching: a slow-burn dread, the kind that makes you squirm in your seat, not knowing whether to laugh, cringe, or look away.
Take solace in this: no matter how bad your day gets, at least you’re not this guy.
An A24 film and an incredible debut from director Andrew De Young—what a way to launch a career.
Craig, portrayed by the deadpan and brilliantly awkward Tim Robinson (SNL alum and creator of I Think You Should Leave), is a cautionary tale in the making. In theory, this is a story about appreciating what you have and respecting boundaries. In practice? It’s an excruciating deep dive into what happens when someone does the exact opposite—repeatedly.
For Anchorman fans, there’s a treat: Paul Rudd makes a hilarious cameo as yet another moustached meteorologist, Austin Craig’s new neighbor. He’s everything Craig isn’t: seemingly carefree, charismatic, and effortlessly cool. Naturally, Craig becomes obsessed.
Craig feels cornered by his own bland, joyless life. His wife, played with ice-cold sharpness by Kate Mara, is a cancer survivor and florist who shares unsettlingly intimate bonds with both her teenage son and her ex, Devin. That’s just a sample of the discomfort—wait until you see the toad.
When Austin enters the picture, Craig’s world begins to glow with new possibility. The most mundane moments—a sketchy tunnel walk to smoke an illegal cig, admiring a 
fake spearhead, or watching a mediocre indie band—become euphoric, simply because Austin is involved.
But here’s the problem: Austin isn’t a person to Craig. He’s a symbol—a gateway to a life Craig thinks he deserves. That obsession plays out in tragically hilarious fashion.
It’s painfully relatable—unless you’ve never felt like a spare part in your own life.
From the slow camera zooms to the tribal chants and eerie operatic hums, the atmosphere is drenched in looming dread. Every scene oozes tension but somehow still makes space for hilarity—often the awkward, scream-into-a-pillow kind.
The screener crowd at Luna Leederville howled with laughter. So did I, though just as often, I was curled in secondhand embarrassment, silently begging Craig to read the room.
He never does. He designs addictive smartphone apps for a living yet remains completely blind to basic human behavior. By the end, we begin to understand why.
Eight out of ten stars. Best watched with a friend—so you’re not alone in your horror.
