\n
![](\"https:\/\/www.tcocdn.com\/tco\/images\/Tim-Robinson-and-Paul-Rudd-in-Friendship-courtesy-of-Paramount-Pictures.jpg\")
<\/p>\n [ad_1]
\n<\/p>\n
Making friends is hard. It\u2019s even harder as an adult \u2013 while the media laments the ongoing \u200b\u201c<\/span>male loneliness epidemic\u201d, many men\u00a0<\/span>and\u00a0<\/i>women are still reckoning with hard truths unveiled during the sudden solitude of the Covid pandemic. The destruction of third spaces, widening gaps in lifestyle exacerbated by lack of disposable income and increasingly unsociable working hours, and the increasing inability to detach ourselves from screens have culminated in a\u00a0cross-generational crisis whereby plenty of adults \u2013 from eighteen to eighty \u2013 are realising they just\u2026don\u2019t have friends. The protagonist of Andrew DeYoung\u2019s\u00a0<\/span>Friendship\u00a0<\/i>is one such case: Craig Waterman (Tim Robinson) is a\u00a0marketing executive with a\u00a0beautiful wife (Kate Mara), nice house and affable teenage son (Jack Dylan Grazer) but no social circle beyond the occupants of his house, who seem distant from\u00a0him.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n This all changes when the Watermans mistakenly receive a\u00a0package intended for their new neighbour. Craig drops it off and meets Austin: a\u00a0handsome, charismatic TV<\/span> weatherman with a\u00a0fully-realised sense of self. (Naturally he\u2019s played by Paul Rudd.) Craig is instantly smitten, and despite being the new guy, it\u2019s Austin who welcomes his neighbour into his life, showing him his fossil collection, sharing his love of punk music, and confiding that he secretly yearns to do the morning weather instead of occupying the evening slot. A\u00a0bromance is born \u2013 Craig seems to come alive, a\u00a0better husband and father while basking in Austin\u2019s light. Then a\u00a0tragic reality comes to light: Craig can\u2019t\u00a0hang.<\/span><\/p>\n This middle-aged middle American, who wants so desperately to be part of something, moves out of step with his peers. He\u2019s assimilated a\u00a0personality (liking Marvel movies, making crass jokes often at the expense of his wife) but can\u2019t quite cover up the Travis Bickle-level entitled rot that lurks at his core. He parrots humanity but doesn\u2019t exhibit it. There\u2019s something deeply pathetic about Craig Waterman, but also something unfortunately true. This is Robinson\u2019s great gift as a\u00a0comedian \u2013 those familiar with his Netflix sketch show\u00a0<\/span>I\u00a0Think You Should Leave\u00a0<\/i>will recognise his full-body-cringe-inducing style of comedy, which is, admittedly, something of an acquired taste. (Connor O\u2019Malley, a\u00a0similar cult breakout, delivers the film\u2019s most baffling, brilliant non-sequitur during his short cameo in the film.) That\u2019s not to say\u00a0<\/span>Friendship\u00a0<\/i>is punching down; Craig is an entirely ordinary villain who is absolutely convinced he\u2019s the good guy. A\u00a0<\/span>nice\u00a0<\/i>guy, even. It\u2019s evident from the film\u2019s first scene, where \u2013 during her cancer survivors support group \u2013 he expresses confusion when his wife admits she hasn\u2019t orgasmed since before treatment. \u200b\u201c<\/span>Plenty of orgasms over here!\u201d he declares cheerily.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n The same wildcard energy that made Robinson\u2019s sketch series a\u00a0cult classic is threaded through\u00a0<\/span>Friendship\u00a0<\/i>(DeYoung wrote the part with Robinson in mind). There\u2019s a\u00a0feeling that anything could happen at any moment, a\u00a0strange pedestrian volatility to Craig that makes him just as likely to stew silently as to blow up in spectacular fashion, and the off-kilter sensation of something being\u00a0<\/span>not quite right\u00a0<\/i>is exacerbated by Keegan DeWitt\u2019s oscillating score, which ramps up the tension with choral arrangements more typical of a\u00a0horror film than a\u00a0comedy. But\u00a0<\/span>Friendship\u00a0<\/i>arguably\u00a0<\/span>is\u00a0<\/i>a\u00a0horror movie, evident in more than just its score and high wire tension between characters. The excruciating act of being vulnerable with another human being and the sweaty discomfort of realising a\u00a0new friend is a\u00a0bit\u00a0<\/span>off<\/i> are mundane but relatable terrors, after\u00a0all.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/p><\/div>\n\nGet more Little White\u00a0Lies<\/h3>\n<\/p><\/div>\n