‘Friendship’ Review: Tim Robinson Spirals, Hilariously

Tim Robinson has become the reigning king of awkward comedy — an actor, writer, and performer whose sense of humor is so specific it almost feels like its own dialect. In series like I Think You Should Leave and the more recent The Chair, Robinson tends to embody characters who are obsessive, petulant, intense, or simply bizarre. These are the kinds of protagonists no one actually wants to identify with: they’re insufferable, always getting themselves into trouble, and navigating situations where calling them “cringe” feels like an understatement.

Friendship isn’t Robinson’s own project, but director-writer Andre DeYoung built it explicitly around his public “persona.” Here, Robinson plays Craig Waterman, married to the gentle florist Tami (Kate Mara) and father to a teenage son, Stevie (Jack Dylan Grazer). Craig works at a digital marketing company — his specialty is getting people hooked on apps — and while he clearly has his quirks, he comes across as a reasonably grounded, reasonably happy guy. Every now and then, Tami brings up her ex, but Craig doesn’t seem remotely bothered by it.

Everything shifts the day a misdelivered package ends up at Craig’s house — a parcel meant for his newly arrived neighbor Austin (Paul Rudd, sporting a massive handlebar mustache and a deeply questionable haircut), a local TV weatherman who works nights, which will matter later. The two hit it off instantly. To say thanks, Austin invites Craig to see him play with his punk band at a bar, and even asks if he wants to sit in on drums (Craig can sort of play, but not well). Their budding friendship seems to be going great, right up until Austin invites him to a social gathering with his friends. It’s there that Craig, desperate for his new buddy’s attention, starts getting weird, clingy, and overbearing — making everyone else wildly uncomfortable.

From that point on, Friendship focuses on Craig’s spiral after realizing Austin is avoiding him and wants nothing more to do with him. This sets off a string of increasingly unhinged behaviors that strain not only his work life but especially his marriage and relationship with his son. In that sense, DeYoung’s film isn’t only about friendship. It’s about a man with limited “social skills” who ties himself into knots during a frantic, misguided hunt for approval that only pushes him deeper into a hole he may never fully climb out of.

Robinson’s stony expression and nervy, wound-up energy turn Craig into a one-man discomfort machine. And the awkwardness doesn’t stay neatly contained within the film — it spills over, making the audience squirm as Craig repeatedly humiliates himself in his obsessive attempts to be liked and accepted. That “please let the earth swallow me whole” vibe Robinson has perfected is now part of his comic trademark, and he can spin countless jokes out of Craig’s nonstop faux pas — missteps he never seems to notice and only makes worse whenever he tries to fix them. Rudd, a veteran of this kind of comedy, plays a role that’s also a bit irritating, but in a socially smoother, less anarchic and self-destructive way.

Viewers familiar with The Chair or Robinson’s other work will instantly click into the film’s comedic language. Those with a lower tolerance for cringe comedy might recoil from a character this pathetic — someone who can be mean and miserable one moment and surprisingly gentle the next. There’s no question Craig is trying desperately to be loved by his wife, his son, his friend, and even his friend’s friends. But the second he senses the slightest hint of rejection, the best move is to hide under a chair or run straight out the door. Ultimately, and much to his own horror, spending time with him becomes a one-way trip with wildly unpredictable consequences.