Friendship

A Cringe Comedy That Skims the Surface of Modern Masculinity

Examining male loneliness is becoming an increasingly important objective for psychologists, sociologists, and artists alike. Feelings of isolation, emasculation, and disempowerment among men are partly to blame for the rise of hate-filled rhetoric in public discourse and the growing influence of extremist political movements. The “manosphere”—as the toxic male space on the internet is known—is finally being explored in earnest in TV and film. A prime example is the breakout show Adolescence (2025), which delivers a nuanced, layered look at how early this radicalization and toxicity begin to seep into boys' lives. In film, the subject has mostly been relegated to indie releases, such as The Art of Self-Defense (2019), and now the dark comedy Friendship (2024).

Friendship follows Craig (Tim Robinson), an awkward office worker with little social life and a weak sense of self. He’s married to Tami (Kate Mara), a cancer survivor and florist who seems to have a deeper emotional bond with their son, Steven (Jack Dylan Grazer), and prefers spending time platonically with her fireman ex-boyfriend (Josh Segarra). When the charismatic Austin (Paul Rudd) moves in next door and takes the bland Craig under his wing, Craig feels a rush of excitement at being included and valued. But his growing obsession with Austin and his lifestyle soon turns destructive.

The film marks the feature directorial debut of Andrew DeYoung, who also wrote the script. Known for his work on TV comedies like Dave (2020–), Shrill (2019–2021), and Pen15 (2019–2021), DeYoung's shift into dark comedy feels natural. His collaboration with Robinson—an Saturday Night Live (1975-) alum best known for his cringe-comedy web series I Think You Should Leave with Tim Robinson (2019-) —results in a tone that fits comfortably within the studio A24’s mold. DeYoung’s stylistic choices, such as intense close-ups that gradually zoom out and a washed-out color palette, frame the story as a psychological thriller. These aesthetics evoke Craig’s emotional isolation and abandonment while clashing to great comedic effect with Robinson’s signature cringe-driven energy. There are clear nods to Curb Your Enthusiasm (2000-2024) as well, especially in the dynamic of the long-suffering wife and the insufferably oblivious husband. However, not all of these TV comedy strengths translate well to the big screen.

Due to the longer runtime, Friendship forces the audience to spend more time with Craig’s insufferable decisions and grating personality. In a short sketch or half-hour episode, this is manageable. But stretched over a feature-length film, Craig’s behavior becomes exhausting. The second act, in particular, bogs down with repetitive scenes that underline his fear of rejection without offering new insight. Many moments that could have worked as sharp cringe-comedy set pieces instead feel like sluggish diversions that stall character development. By the one-hour mark, viewers may feel as fatigued by Craig’s presence as they would after a few hours with the Larry David of Curb.

Friendship clearly aims to address the dangers of male loneliness—even among men who are married or appear socially functional. The confusion around how to express modern masculinity, coupled with an insecure thirst for validation, creates a psychological storm that the film initially seems ready to tackle. Yet despite a strong premise, Friendship ultimately skirts around these themes. It gestures at depth but opts too often for the easy laugh.

The cast delivers strong performances in support of this uneven material. Rudd’s effortless charm makes him a natural foil for Robinson, while Mara brings more emotional depth to Tami than the script provides. Robinson continues with the hyperactive sketch-comedy persona he’s known for, with moments of surprising vulnerability. Still, the film doesn’t allow him to fully explore new dramatic territory. His energy—a rollercoaster of nervous outbursts and deadpan awkwardness—amplifies Craig’s alienation but also grates on the audience’s patience.

In the end, Friendship presents a timely and important subject: the crisis of male identity and connection in the modern world. Unfortunately, it doesn’t fully commit to exploring this theme. While intermittently funny and affecting, the film leans too heavily on cringe without offering enough emotional payoff. What begins as a promising dark comedy about male solitude becomes a repetitive, somewhat hollow experience. Nonetheless, it’s part of a broader and necessary conversation—one that more artists would do well to continue.

5.9/10