Loud, obnoxious, and downright off-putting comedian Tim Robinson of Detroiters and I Think You Should Leave fame is anything but normal. Whether it’s going on a reality dating show simply for the zip line, or crashing his hotdog car into a store only to appear as a man wearing a hotdog costume and demand to know who did this, the beauty of Robinson’s comedy is the normalcy proceeded by increasing levels of absurdity, closely followed by chaotic rage. Add Paul Rudd’s all-American sweetheart comedic energy into the mix,
Friendship, directed by Andrew DeYoung, follows Craig (Robinson), a socially awkward, yet normal-seeming marketing executive who desires only two things: sitting on his recliner every evening, and going out to see the newest Marvel movie, which he hears is nuts (but don’t you dare tell him a spoiler). His life is flipped upside down when Austin Carmichael (Rudd), a handsome, charismatic weatherman moves in next door and invites him over for a drink. The two men quickly take a liking to each other, marking the first male friend Craig has seemingly had in his life. Their friendship continues to bloom until one day Craig misreads a few too many social queues, causing Austin to end their companionship, leaving his former male friend spiraling. The results are psychotic, to say the least, even by Tim Robinson’s standards.
Friendship is a laugh-out-loud comedy that feels like watching our protagonist Craig survive a car crash, only to be hit by a train wreck, somehow make it through, and then step abroad the Titanic. There’s cringe comedy, and then there’s Robinson sucking on a bar of soap in front of his new friends as punishment for being “a bad boy.” It is a tour-de-force comedic performance from Robinson, who balances the tightrope act of managing to keep the audience laughing as they experience physical discomfort of awkwardness. Whether it’s him awkwardly navigating through the office with an overflowing steaming hot cup of coffee, or reacting to his wife (Kate Mara) telling their cancer support-therapy group that she has not experienced an orgasm in years.
Robinson’s best gift as a comedic foil is his ability to react. The funniest moments in this film are the silent moments where Robinson is digesting what someone says to him. Rudd, as one of Hollywood’s most generous performers, proves to be the perfect counterbalance: He plays the relatable everyman with such ease that, as the film unfolds, it becomes hilariously clear that Austin is a complete loser. Rudd’s effortless charm quickly evaporates as he realizes the lengths his neighbor is willing to go to be accepted.
Yet, the comedic performance that surprised me most comes from House of Cards star Kate Mara, who delivers one of the funniest supporting turns in recent memory as Tami, Craig’s wife. At first glance, she appears to be the typical long-suffering spouse, sidelined by her husband's narcissism. As the film unfolds, it becomes clear she’s just as self-absorbed and bizarre as he is, making them weirdly perfect together. It is an impressive comedic performance of restraint that she navigates with ease, so much so that her funniest moments often land a few beats late, as the audience slowly catches up to what was just said.
Andrew DeYoung’s screenplay hones in on what makes Robinson’s comedic persona both off-putting and hilarious. As writer-director, DeYoung nails the absurdity of everyday life, while slyly commenting on a deeper crisis: a generational inability—particularly among men—to connect with the world around them.
Craig, the protagonist, feels like a product of a culture where human connection has become alien, and all that’s left is endlessly scrolling on one’s phone and binge-watching Marvel movies. Or maybe, he isn’t a product of anything. Maybe trying to trace his madness back to some societal dysfunction is futile.
All I know is this: When Tim Robinson started sucking on a frog to get high, I felt a strange wave of euphoria. Finally—a comedy that taps into everything I find funny. One day, I may have to unpack what that says about me. Maybe we’re all sickos. Or maybe all men secretly long to be locked arm-in-arm with Paul Rudd, performing a pitch-perfect a cappella version of “My Boo (Hitman’s Club Mix)” by Ghost Town DJs. Who’s to say?
Author Bio:
Ben Friedman is a contributing writer and film critic at Highbrow Magazine.
For Highbrow Magazine