Friendship Review: Tim Robinson and Paul Rudd Buddy up in A24’s Acidic Riff on Male Affinity

Friendship is one of the more unique comedies of 2025—a weird, squirm-inducing, unexpectedly affecting film that feels true to its title in all the worst (and best) ways. It’s another feather in A24’s cap for championing daring, off-kilter voices in comedy. If you’re in tune with Tim Robinson’s specific wavelength, it’s a must-watch.

Friendship (2025)
Friendship (2025)

‘Friendship’ Movie Review

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Friendship (2025) delivers exactly what it promises: a strange, biting, deeply awkward comedy built around the offbeat sensibilities of Tim Robinson, who makes a compelling transition from sketch-comedy icon to feature-length leading man. Directed with a loose, melancholic charm and distributed by A24, the film feels like the American cousin to The Banshees of Inisherin—a story of friendship unraveling, replete with absurd detours, quiet existential dread, and deeply cringe-inducing moments.

Robinson plays Craig, a middle-aged suburban dad whose life is slowly decaying in front of him, though he doesn’t quite realize it yet. His marriage to Tami (Kate Mara, effectively distant and emotionally elusive) is fraying as she pours her energy into a small floral business and quietly reconnects with her ex, Devon. Even Craig’s own kids won’t humor him with a movie night—he can’t even get them to go see “the new Marvel.” Craig trudges through a life that feels increasingly uninspired, until a new neighbor moves in next door: Paul Rudd as Austin, a chill weatherman and low-key rock band frontman who represents everything Craig is not—cool, composed, and apparently beloved.

Craig and Austin strike up a tentative friendship built on weird excursions—exploring abandoned aqueducts, foraging mushrooms, attending amateur rock shows. It’s a version of male bonding that feels totally detached from typical movie tropes, simmering in a stew of desperation and misplaced affection. But when Craig overdoes it during one of Austin’s “guys nights”—accidentally knocking him out cold in a garage boxing match—the friendship starts to unravel. Craig’s behavior grows more erratic, culminating in a series of painfully awkward and unhinged attempts to reconnect, including breaking into Austin’s house and discovering a mysterious gun that seems poised to resurface later, echoing Chekhov’s gun in the strangest way possible.

The film leans fully into Tim Robinson’s signature brand of discomfort comedy. From Craig punishing himself by eating a bar of soap (“because he’s been a bad boy”) to his increasingly desperate flailing for social validation, Friendship mines humor from the bleakest social faux pas. Fans of I Think You Should Leave will feel immediately at home in this universe, where absurdity and sadness share equal space, and where the cringe is mined not just for laughs, but for quiet emotional resonance. There’s a surprising amount of pathos beneath the ridiculousness, making Craig feel less like a caricature and more like a guy most viewers will recognize, or at least pity.

Paul Rudd, meanwhile, is perfectly cast. His usual charm remains intact, but here it’s used as a weapon—Austin is aloof, subtly condescending, and only half-interested in the connection Craig so desperately wants to forge. He disappears for much of the final act, which smartly mirrors Craig’s emotional abandonment and forces the film into darker, stranger territory as Craig spirals.

The score, dreamy and cosmic, adds another layer of texture to the movie’s already eccentric mood. At times, it evokes something closer to Uncut Gems than Lady Bird, amplifying Craig’s anxiety with a surprising sense of unease. While Friendship is billed as a comedy, it has moments that are deeply sad and oddly meditative, making it more emotionally complex than its premise might suggest.

If Friendship has any notable drawbacks, it’s that it feels like a stepping stone—proof that Tim Robinson can carry a film, but also a sign that even sharper material may be ahead. The movie occasionally meanders, and some of its surreal tangents don’t fully cohere. But its rhythm, tone, and uncomfortable honesty about adult loneliness and failed male intimacy are spot-on.

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Ultimately, Friendship is one of the more unique comedies of 2025—a weird, squirm-inducing, unexpectedly affecting film that feels true to its title in all the worst (and best) ways. It’s another feather in A24’s cap for championing daring, off-kilter voices in comedy. If you’re in tune with Robinson’s specific wavelength, it’s a must-watch.

Score: 7/10

Friendship (2025)

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