Friendship Review: Tim Robinson Hits the Big Screen

Tim Robinson’s Friendship Argues that Some Men Deserve to Be Lonely

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Is there a male loneliness epidemic, or is it more of a male idiocy epidemic? That’s the question poised by Friendship, a new comedy written and directed by Andrew DeYoung, but that is so in sync with star Tim Robinson’s distinct comedic voice that you’d be excused for assuming he made it himself.

Robinson plays Craig, a boring suburban nebbish whose cancer-recovering wife is obviously depressed (Kate Mara), whose teenage son is clearly counting the days until he can leave (Jack Dylan Grazer), and whose direct reports at his middle management job don’t even try to hide their contempt for him. Craig seems blithely unaware of all of this, making mundane small-talk about the latest Marvel movie while his family basically ignores him, and spending his nights in front of the TV. The kind of excitement he didn’t even know he missed enters Craig’s life when he meets his new neighbor, the local weatherman Austin Carmichael, played by Paul Rudd with the mustache and slightly sleazy charm of his Anchorman character. Austin is the too-cool friend of Craig’s dreams, and after only two hangs Craig fantasizes about the life they’ll have together as best friends.

If you’ve ever seen any of Tim Robinson’s work before, you know Craig will screw this whole thing up. And he does, in gloriously uncomfortable fashion, systematically ruining every aspect of his life due to his obsession with Austin and the promise of having a cool, adventurous friend.

Much has been made about how Friendship is rooted in the fairly common belief that men today struggle to form close friendships and are suffering from a debilitating, pervasive sense of loneliness. Every man in Friendship appears to have healthy, normal friendships, though—except Craig. Austin has a tight network of buddies who support each other emotionally. Craig’s employees are relaxed and casual with each other as they hang out in the office and take smoke breaks together. Craig’s son has friends he’d rather spend time with than his parents. Craig’s problems aren’t some kind of larger social phenomenon preventing men from becoming friends with each other; Craig’s problems stem from his own awkwardness, inability to read social cues, and lack of empathy and understanding for others. They’re a result of Craig being a Tim Robinson character, with all the increasingly painful and anxious discomfort that entails.

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Friendship is so totally in Robinson’s Q Zone that it feels kind of like an extra-long sketch from I Think You Should Leave—a common observation, but an accurate one. If it was split into six 15-minute episodes it could easily be his show’s next season. It’s even more cringeworthy than Robinson’s comedy usually is, though, because the awkwardness and misery compounds throughout its 100 minutes; things take a fatal turn when Craig meets Austin’s friends, and from there Friendship becomes the sustained, unrelenting collapse of one man’s life in slow motion. It’s funny, yes, but also very hard to watch.

Robinson, of course, is perfect for this kind of role. He gave us glimpses of his incapacitating weirdness and slow-burn rage during his time on Saturday Night Live, fully embraced it on his episode of Netflix’s The Characters and Detroiters, and then elevated it to viral meme status with I Think You Should Leave. There’s a tradition of comedians breaking into films by stretching their well-established comedic persona out into a 90-minute feature, and you could say Robinson’s following that formula with Friendship.

The movie’s more than that, though. Its length lets Robinson take that persona to new, even more uncomfortable depths, but also contrasts it for the first time with a fully developed foil. Paul Rudd’s weatherman riffs a bit on the actor’s public persona as a deeply likable, always friendly charmer, but it also comments on a type of modern man as awkward in its own way as Robinson’s soulless, stagnant middle manager. As played by Rudd, Austin isn’t as effortlessly cool as he wants to appear, or as Craig thinks he is. He’s holding on desperately to his youth, not just with the cosmetic enhancements that become a running joke, but through the punk bar band he plays in, the impromptu boxing matches he throws with his friends, and the carefully calculated bits of ephemera he decorates his house with. Craig can’t see that Austin is a facade, a construct of confidence more than character, but Friendship makes it clear. Austin starts as the easygoing, always cool opposite of Craig, but his own inner awkwardness and insecurities gradually come to the fore, which makes Friendship a richer, more insightful film.

Most importantly, of course: it’s absolutely hilarious. Robinson hasn’t had to pivot from these types of character yet because he’s still able to mine so much humor from them. Robinson almost never seems to try to be funny, he just is; he’s always fully invested in the damaged psyche and pitiful fury of his sad sack losers. (When a Robinson character does try to be funny, you know it will be the cringiest, most uncomfortable thing that character ever does.) Rudd is an ideal counterpart, playing Austin as “cool” in the cheesy kind of way somebody like Craig would look up to, but always staying just grounded and realistic enough to leave the more cartoonish extremes to Robinson’s descent. Josh Segarra scores a direct hit during a one-scene cameo that similarly sums up that actor’s entire vibe, and Robinson regular Conner O’Malley steals a scene just as thoroughly as he does on I Think You Should Leave.

Friendship feels custom calibrated to give Robinson the best possible debut as a cinematic leading man. It’s not just a vehicle for one comedian, though; it’s a timely commentary that, in its own way, slightly deflates the pop sociology notion of the male loneliness epidemic—an idea that basically excuses the anti-social behavior of men who won’t or can’t try to make friends with each other. More than just “that Tim Robinson movie,” Friendship says something about this dumb world we live in today, which makes it smarter and more interesting than most comedies these days. Get your boys together and make a night out of it.

Director: Andrew DeYoung
Writer: Andrew DeYoung
Stars: Tim Robinson, Paul Rudd, Kate Mara, Jack Dylan Grazer
Release date: May 9, 2025

Senior editor Garrett Martin writes about videogames, TV, travel, theme parks, wrestling, music, and more. You can also find him on Blue Sky.

Tim Robinson’s Friendship Argues that Some Men Deserve to Be Lonely