‘Roommates’ Review: From Awkward Friendship to Psychological War (Netflix)
Two very different college roommates form a friendship that turns tense as small everyday conflicts escalate, exposing a bond that is as intimate as it is potentially dangerous.
Something unusual, interesting, and genuinely creative has been happening in Adam Sandler’s life and career in recent years. Long accustomed to turning out one or two largely disposable films a year—some more charming than others, but few truly memorable—the actor seems to have handed over the reins of his production company, Happy Madison, to his family. More specifically, to his teenage daughters. Gradually, alongside his efforts to reassert himself as a dramatic actor in projects produced by others (most recently Uncut Gems and Jay Kelly), his company has begun producing slightly different films: clever, offbeat teen comedies, often directed by women and centered on the concerns of that generation. And, of course, starring his daughters.
Call it high-quality nepotism or whatever you like, but both You Are So Not Invited to My Bat Mitzvah! and this Roommates feel closer to coming-of-age comedies like The Edge of Seventeen or Eighth Grade than to titles such as That’s My Boy or Murder Mystery 2. It’s not that Sandler’s previous films were bad, but at best they tended to be amiable entertainments made among friends. Some of that communal spirit remains here, but this time Sandler steps aside, giving center stage to his eldest daughter, Sadie Sandler, just as the younger Sunny led Bat Mitzvah!.
Directed by Chandler Levack, Roommates follows Sadie as Devon, a recent high school graduate heading off to college. Not quite a full-blown nerd, she’s still something of an outsider among the more popular girls she longs to befriend—girls who, in a passive-aggressive way, tend to mock her. When she arrives at college, it initially seems like she’ll fall into a similar dynamic with her new peers. But then Celeste appears (Chloe East, a standout in The Fabelmans and clearly an actress with a strong future ahead), a strange, self-assured, somewhat enigmatic young woman who gravitates toward her. Before long, they’re roommates.
The differences between them are stark: Devon is shy, studious, and deeply attached to her family (played by Nick Kroll and Natasha Lyonne), while Celeste appears to have no close family ties and comes across as somewhere between wild and troubled—a girl who has, for some reason, latched onto Devon. Inevitably, tensions begin to surface. The film builds its conflicts from seemingly minor issues—a messy room, unpaid debts, borrowing clothes, an awkward sexual misunderstanding—that gradually spiral into something more serious.
Things worsen because Devon keeps everything bottled up, quietly accumulating resentment, while Celeste is charismatic enough that no one around her calls her out. To the point that Devon’s own parents begin to think she’s exaggerating. Is she? Is Devon’s perspective skewed? Or is Celeste genuinely dangerous? Roommates explores, with notable intelligence and for a while a striking realism, those uncomfortable undercurrents that can exist within friendships—the unspoken tensions people carry with them.
The screenplay by Jimmy Fowlie and Ceara O’Sullivan blends that perceptive, nuanced take on teenage life—complete with believable behavior, age-appropriate dialogue, and genuinely funny situations—with a more overt comedic streak characteristic of the Sandler brand. So alongside the interpersonal discomfort, the film veers into heightened, chaotic set pieces—explosions, fires, excessive humiliations—and ultimately a finale that abandons its earlier subtlety in favor of something closer to The War of the Roses.
Along the way, there’s room for cameos from Sandler’s usual circle (including Janeane Garofalo, Steve Buscemi, and the Sandman himself), while comedian Sarah Sherman contributes as the film’s narrator—the story is told in retrospect, as she recounts it to two students going through a similar situation, in an attempt to keep things from spiraling out of control. There’s also an engaging subplot involving Devon’s brother (Aidan Langford), who is grappling with his fear of coming out.
Even if the ending—more aggressive and surprisingly dark—doesn’t quite live up to the rest, Roommates stands out for its sharp, incisive look at the world of 19- and 20-year-old women stepping into adulthood with all its complications. Up to that point, there are no clear heroes or villains, only differing perspectives and ways of navigating life. What feels normal to Celeste may not be so for Devon, and it’s precisely that clash of sensibilities that drives the film’s best moments—making this an engaging, at times unsettling, yet often very perceptive entry from the Sandler clan.
