There aren’t many films that make me laugh out loud in a cinema—Friendship did. Loudly. It’s a goofy, surreal spin on the terror of adult socialising, seen through the eyes of a needy, borderline-psychopathic energy vampire desperately trying to wedge himself into another man’s friend group. Tim Robinson plays the kind of character that might split the room—somewhere between Larry David in Curb and Steve Carell in The Office—but with a difference: he’s not smug, just catastrophically earnest. He doesn’t want to be right, he just wants to belong… even if it means steamrolling every boundary in sight.
His long-suffering wife deserves hazard pay, trapped in a marriage with a man who treats social interaction like a hostage negotiation. The humour leans uncomfortably close to tragedy, but always pulls back just before it hits despair. There’s something admirably loose about the whole thing—not everything sticks, but that feels part of the charm.
It’s deranged, strangely sweet, and very funny. Not quite glued down, but it doesn’t need to be.