6.5

Naomi Watts Grapples with a Great Dane and Greater Grief in The Friend

By Jarrod Jones  |  March 31, 2025 | 3:34pm
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Naomi Watts Grapples with a Great Dane and Greater Grief in The Friend
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Grief’s dull, persistent ache informs much of Scott McGehee and David Siegel’s The Friend, yet it’s soothed by watching Naomi Watts buddy up with the world’s best dog. Based on Sigrid Nunez’s celebrated novel, this New York-set dramedy follows Iris (Watts), a frustrated writer who inherits a Harlequin Great Dane named Apollo (performed enormously and marvelously by Bing) from her late friend and mentor Walter (Bill Murray)—a sitcom premise set loose in a dignified space. As Iris grapples with her new housemate, an inventory of the small, aggravating moments that come in the aftermath of an incomplete life begins to take shape. There are also some really nice scenes with the dog.

“Inherits” is a deceptive way to describe how Apollo enters Iris’s life. Walter’s widow, Barbara (Noma Dumezweni), initially foists the dog on her using stuffy crisis language (“He needs to be ‘re-housed'”), then claims she isn’t a dog person (the same goes for Iris, who prefers cats). Barbara attempts to hand-sell the poor pooch by highlighting his best traits—he obeys, doesn’t trash furniture, and knows to stay off the bed—only one of which is true. When Iris declines, Barbara twists the knife: Iris taking Apollo was Walter’s dying wish, she claims; whether or not it was (he left no note or will), this hits Iris’s grief in that delicate place where Walter exists not just as her best friend but as a former lover.

The Friend asks, often with a good-natured smile, what can and must be salvaged from tragedy, and how we make room for this hazmat effort in a hectic life. Walter’s death, by suicide, hits at the worst moment in Iris’s professional life: She’s grappling with writer’s block, and her latest novel, Eastern Bloc, is stashed in a closet. She teaches a contentious group of aspiring rockstar authors while anxiously sidestepping urgent work she inherited from Walter before his passing: editing a collection of correspondences between Walter and the remarkable people in his life—mostly women—whose publication has now become a top priority for her publisher. Hardly the stuff of comedy, though McGehee and Siegel manage to keep things surprisingly light.

Let’s revisit Barbara for a moment. Her insistence that Iris take Walter’s dog raises the question: What did the mentor truly mean to his acolyte? Later, in a lovely scene with his ex, Elaine (Carla Gugino), Iris confides that Walter once seduced her with his magnificent words. It happened only once, and it took her some time to realize she loved him as a friend anyway. Yet this story raises more questions: Why did Walter discuss the size of Iris’s apartment and the pace with which she works (slowly) with so many of his other wives? If Barbara is to be believed, why did he decide that Iris should take Apollo over every other woman in his life? The literary approach dictates that we consider Apollo a representation of Walter, a familiar, looming, sad-sack presence in her life that gently nudges her toward doing the things that are difficult but right. That’s all well and good, but he’s still a very large dog taking up her entire bed.

Where does this leave Walter? In the past. Turns out his pass at Iris wasn’t his first. Accusations of “misconduct” at his school prompted early retirement. In Nunez’s book, Walter’s history with women (including his many flirtations with students) plays a larger role; Iris reflects on his womanizing and the generational shift in tolerance for his behavior within academia and the broader literary world. The Friend in McGehee and Siegel’s hands takes a significantly less messy approach to Walter’s character. In the film, Iris has knots from Walter’s past to untangle, but they come loose rather obligingly.

With all this post-death drudgery, an important question arises, especially for the audience: What’s going to happen to the dog? Naturally, any drama featuring a pet as emotive as Apollo is, by design, a tear-jerker, and I must admit that The Friend put my sinuses to work once or twice. Apollo, now bereft of his human and experiencing a bit of misery himself (he nuzzles Walter’s well-worn shirt), is still a gentleman, eventually making Iris’s struggles—getting him onto an elevator, keeping him off her bed, convincing him to eat—more bearable. With his soulful, mismatched eyes, this Herculean dog initially seeks someone he hasn’t quite accepted is never coming back. It’s heartbreaking and revealing; Iris ultimately groks that this old hound feels what she has so far evaded, dredging up uncomfortable feelings about a person she once admired and loved, and whose passing she both regrets and resents.

Some of the sentiments ooze. There’s a moment when Apollo finally gets off the bed at the sound of Iris reading Walter’s words. (“Is that what you like? The written word?”) That night, he takes his first maw-full of kibble, a dog renewed. Later, she takes Apollo for walkies through Manhattan, and Harry Nilsson’s “Everybody’s Talkin'” plays almost as a karaoke rendition from the dog, who pads happily in lock-step with his new companion. A ticking-clock aspect to the movie complicates Iris’ frazzled situation, with her building’s otherwise genial superintendent (Felix Solis) popping by every reel to remind her that she’ll lose her rent-controlled apartment if she doesn’t ditch the dog pronto.

Despite the unspoken feelings and unanswerable questions Walter leaves behind, The Friend is rather tidy for a movie about a prim, comfortable professional confronting tricky emotions while caring for an enormous dog. Watts is spared any comic pratfalls that come with her new housemate, and the dog’s inevitable trashing of Iris’s tiny, rent-controlled apartment—along with years of her novel’s research—takes place offscreen. When Iris comes home, she surveys the damage, sighs, and mutters, “That’s what Walter thought of Eastern Bloc, too.” The film’s restraint is conspicuous and maybe a bit stiff, but it’s not without moments of good humor and grace.

At its core, The Friend is about finding the will to make room for the missing pieces. The path to this personal revelation is navigable, even predictable, but the emotions embodied by Watts and her terrific co-stars are portrayed with sincerity and kindness. McGehee and Siegel frame Iris’s many dilemmas against an idyllic, perpetually autumnal New York City backdrop, where complex adult situations are wrapped in fuzzy scarves and overcoats; with the oranges, reds, and yellows of Central Park, The Friend takes on the posh aspect of a Woody Allen film. Iris has her problems, but her storytellers gifted her one heck of a cozy place to rest her weary head. And although they take their sweet time arriving at the finale and sneak in a manipulative fake-out shot that I could have done without, it’s not done without thought, just a jolt at the last moment to remind Iris—and, a touch ham-fistedly, us—that love in all its forms is fleeting. But in its better moments, The Friend, like Apollo, sneaks up on you, sets its head on your lap, and makes a lasting impression. Good dog.

Director: Scott McGehee and David Siegel
Writer: Scott McGehee and David Siegel (Based on The Friend, by Sigrid Nunez)
Stars: Naomi Watts, Bill Murray, Sarah Pidgeon, Carla Gugino, Constance Wu, and Ann Dowd
Release date: March 28, 2025 (Limited); April 4, 2025 (Wide)

Jarrod Jones is a freelance critic based in Chicago, with bylines at The A.V. Club, IGN, and any place that will take him, really. For more of his mindless thoughts on genre trash, cartoons, and comics, follow him on Twitter (@jarrodjones_) or check out his blog, DoomRocket.

 
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