‘Friendship’: An Interrogation Of Isolation And Masculinity

Lara Walsh
Aug 16
3 min read

Photo by MTSOfan via Flickr (licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)

Andrew DeYoung’s Friendship is an amalgamation of our innermost anxieties manifesting in real time. It reflects on the enduring agony of making meaningful connections in adulthood, and the dangers of loneliness and obsession. Starring Tim Robinson and Paul Rudd, the 2024 release is a humorous take on a classic, small-town American sitcom-turned-horror. It is peppered with Robinson’s lash-out humour, revealing an entirely unredeemable main character who is near-impossible to root for. DeYoung’s 101-minute feature debut is hilariously squirmish and, although indirectly, leaves an important message on egoism and fragility.

When Craig Waterman meets his neighbour Austin, his world is transformed. Austin is his manic-pixie-dream-girl bromance; he has a beautiful house, works a coveted spot as a weatherman on the evening news, and is the frontman of a punk band. He is charismatic, easy-going, and full of characteristically cool sayings. Side by side, they are polar opposites. Whilst Austin dons deep blues and reds, Craig sticks to his signature ambiguous brown, becoming disproportionately more filthy as the movie continues.

Craig’s life is anything but chill. His wife is one year cancer-free, and it has instilled in him a sense of urgency to live life to the fullest, dragging her along with him. Amongst his monochromatic world, Tami is his colour. She is widely loved, including men from her past such as a prominent ex-boyfriend, openly in awe of her: provoking immense insecurity in Craig (you can’t help but question how he even landed her in the first place). In fact, nothing seems to make sense in Craig’s life. He can’t fit in at work, he can’t fill his coffee cup to the right level, and he can't figure out why his son and wife kiss on the lips.

But Tim Robinson’s character does not begin as a bad person; mildly unlikeable and slightly awkward - sure, but innately malicious? No. The script pokes fun at his quirks, as the audience and director stifle their laughs at his numerous humiliating feats. Like a virus, he latches onto Austin, admiring his every move. For a moment, Craig tastes the nectar that is true friendship. With Austin, he goes exploring in the woods, attends concerts, and roams empty sewers. For once in his life, Craig Waterman feels like a man. He feels cool.

Yet, as viruses do, Craig begins to suffocate his host. Following an uncomfortable scene of cringing and humiliation, Austin decides to cut off the friendship. It is the overthinking, overanalysing, hyper-online generation’s worst nightmare: total social castration due to a single, unfunny bit. Craig spirals. In a final moment of frustration, just as things are looking up for Craig and he has the opportunity to regain his old life, he lashes out a final time, ruining things forever.

Friendship is posed as a comedy, a dramatised take on the horror that is making friends in your adult life, but in reality, it runs much deeper. Tim Robinson addresses the dangers of atomised societies and the fragility of male connection. His character becomes a man to be feared once he is denied a genuine friend. Fuelled by jealousy, insecurity, and anger, Craig Waterman morphs from a quirky but harmless husband and father to a genuine threat to both his own and Austin’s family.

In a post-COVID, online world, Friendship is a harsh reminder of the value and necessity of human connection. Companionship is as essential as ever, and the search for true affection can be a maddening one that drives people to crazy behaviours. Amidst current awareness of male loneliness, Robinson and DeYoung highlight one of the greatest dangers to modern society: isolation. Friendship cleverly balances humour with a cautionary tale that is frighteningly realistic.