Review: Friendship

Tim Robinson and Paul Rudd in Friendship(2025)

Somewhere between a Craigslist “Strictly Platonic” ad and an episode of I Think You Should Leave, Friendship makes its play as the most painfully funny film of 2025. Directed by Andrew DeYoung with the low-grade anxiety of someone who’s spent too much time on Nextdoor, the movie is a washed out, 70's inspired spiral into suburban male loneliness, social awkwardness, and the impossible task of making a new friend after 35.

Tim Robinson stars as Craig Waterman, a man so clearly emotionally malnourished that when he meets his new neighbor Austin (Paul Rudd), he latches on with the needy enthusiasm of a Labrador who’s been left alone too long. Their bond begins innocently—punk records, niche history references, adventures in the sewer—but quickly curdles into something murky and uncomfortable. It’s not a bromance. It’s a codependency horror story wrapped in suburban khakis.

Robinson is doing something here that goes far beyond his sketch roots. Sure, there are freakouts—this is still Tim Robinson—but they land with a kind of desperation that makes your heart ache a bit more than his usual brand of comedy allows. Craig isn’t just awkward. He’s desperate for someone to confirm that his life, his interests, his very existence, still hold value. And Rudd? He weaponizes his charm and reminds us why he is good at playing both a likeable cool guy and a douche bag so well.

The direction is understated but effective. DeYoung eschews polished sitcom vibes in favor of unsettling naturalism. The lighting feels like a late-afternoon malaise; the camera lingers just a bit too long; zooms come in like intrusive thoughts. There’s a particular dinner scene that plays like an act of psychological warfare. Every frame looks like it should have a “This Is Fine” caption.

And yet, it’s funny. The film features the most hilarious drug trip I have seen in a movie. Big laughs are found in Friendship but they often come with an emotional ache of loneliness. There’s a catharsis in the discomfort, a recognition of how hard it is to be a person trying to connect in a world where sincerity feels suspect.

By the end, Friendship doesn’t tie anything up with a neat little hug or a dramatic fall-out. It leaves you with a queasy kind of murkiness. The film pulls back from having a more clear culmination of every interesting topic it brings up. Friendship is often a gut-punch of a comedy, not because it makes fun of its characters, but because it sees them too clearly. It’s a film that makes you laugh, cringe, and consider a lot without every quite crystalizing the point it wants to make. In the end, it falls short of greatness but is still the funniest film of the year so far.

3.5/5