Paul Rudd explores male friendship and loneliness in the new film ‘Friendship,’ a darkly comic portrayal that delves into the complexities of connection between men. Released by A24 with Tim Robinson in his first lead role, the movie contrasts Rudd’s effortless charm with Robinson’s anxious personality as their characters attempt—and struggle—to form a meaningful bond in suburban America.
Paul Rudd has built a career around a unique likability, presenting himself as relatable whether he’s a friendly sidekick, a sarcastic outsider, or a reluctant antagonist. In ‘Friendship,’ that approachable quality is critical, as Rudd plays Austin, the new neighbor who seems to be everybody’s ideal friend. In contrast, Tim Robinson’s comedic sensibility, previously displayed in his series ‘I Think You Should Leave,’ brings a palpable unease to the role of Craig, a man whose awkwardness and desperation render him socially isolated, even within his own family.
The premise is deceptively simple: Craig, a reserved husband to Tami (played by Kate Mara) and father to their teenage son (Jack Dylan Grazer), is encouraged by his wife to establish a friendship with their new neighbor Austin. Though this connection begins on a hopeful note, an ill-fated social gathering with Austin’s group quickly unravels Craig’s sense of acceptance. As he spirals from this rejection, the audience witnesses the raw sting that comes from being distanced by someone as naturally affable as Rudd’s character, a scenario reminiscent of the sudden collapse of a “bromance” like the one seen in ‘I Love You, Man.’
Writer-director Andrew DeYoung, known for previous work with ‘Saturday Night Live’ alumni but not involved with Robinson’s own sketch series, steers the film into darker territory than standard comedies about male bonding. ‘Friendship’ magnifies the intensity of male loneliness, presenting it not as a punchline, but as an inescapable abyss. Rudd’s performance, shading his usual affability with subtle oddness, turns even a local news weatherman role into something distinctive and slightly bizarre, echoing the kind of offbeat characters he’s played in films like ‘Anchorman.’
This feature-length piece borrows the discomfort and social missteps that define ‘I Think You Should Leave,’ extending them beyond the sketch show’s quick departures. While Robinson’s earlier work delivers such experiences in bitesize segments, here he embodies Craig for the full duration of the movie, subjecting viewers to an escalating descent into emotional unrest and longing. Each attempt at connection becomes fraught with anxiety, transforming normal interactions into scenes filled with confusion and embarrassment, and giving comedy a sharply troubled undercurrent.
The film steers clear of overt references to toxic masculinity or political themes tied to the “manosphere” and the grievances driving some aspects of male culture in 2025. Instead, it places its focus fully on personal psychological struggles. Craig’s son shares a gentle, if unusually close, relationship with his mother Tami, herself a recent cancer survivor, while Craig attempts to reinvent himself as someone worthy of Austin’s approval—fantasizing about joining a band or shedding everyday technologies in pursuit of coolness. Rather than chasing outdated models of masculinity, Craig’s quest is fueled by a much deeper desire for acceptance and self-worth.
As Craig’s fixation on Austin deepens, so too does his awareness of his own shortcomings. The movie skillfully heightens the tension as Craig’s need for male approval grows, even as his workplace relationships and home life remain stagnant. Pop culture nods, such as talk of seeing a “new Marvel”—notably timed to align with the release of Marvel’s ‘Thunderbolts’—add a meta dimension, while Austin’s role as a weatherman further cements an ironic parallel with Rudd’s filmography.
Though Rudd’s Austin has undeniable quirks, the surrounding cast also offers up peculiarities, lending the film a sense of reality that’s neither purely comic nor entirely bleak. The group’s unusual solidarity, on full display in moments like an impromptu chorus of Ghost Town DJs’ “My Boo” to console a friend, draws a contrast with Craig’s inability to fit in. The more he tries to break the social code, the more alienated he becomes, which propels the film toward a tone that’s both darkly comic and emotionally raw.
Craig never expresses interest in anyone outside his marriage, and his devotion centers fully on Austin—though not in a way that transforms him into a stereotypical “Wife Guy.” Instead, his obsession and later frustration are channeled exclusively into this friendship, revealing how the search for platonic companionship can morph into something all-consuming. Rather than offering a lighthearted take on adult friendship, the film portrays it as a need so intense it borders on childish fixations, or even something slightly sinister.
Despite the high expectations for the film, especially following Tim Robinson’s Netflix popularity, ‘Friendship’ is not a streaming exclusive on Netflix or HBO Max. Instead, the movie premiered under the A24 banner. This detail places it outside the reach of the subscription platforms favored by many TV fans who have followed Robinson’s rise from ‘Detroiters’ and ‘I Think You Should Leave’ to his new feature-length project.
Tim Robinson’s evolution from his cult classics to this starring film role maps out a unique trajectory within comedic entertainment. As he takes center stage alongside Rudd, their on-screen chemistry mines the fraught emotional territory between ease and desperation. The movie’s willingness to linger on uncomfortable silences and failed attempts at connection highlights the nuances that separate natural charisma from the tangled insecurities driving social misfits.
Supporting actors, including Kate Mara and Jack Dylan Grazer, round out the depiction of a family shaped by complications and emotional gaps. The film leans on its observational sharpness, drawing out both the humor and the sting of awkwardness. Where shows like ‘Shrill’ and ‘I Love That For You’ dissect social anxiety, ‘Friendship’ digs deeper, asking why some people succeed where others falter, and what happens when desire for approval fuels personal crisis.
Without making direct links to larger cultural debates around masculinity, the film demonstrates how isolation and the hunger for belonging can take root quietly—even when bitterness and prejudice aren’t obviously present. Craig is insensitive at times, not out of intentional malice, but because his insecurities encourage an inward focus. ‘Friendship’ refrains from painting all male loneliness as an offshoot of more toxic attitudes, instead showing how even seemingly ordinary men might struggle with inadequacies and unmet emotional needs.
Paul Rudd’s portrayal of Austin, always a few steps out of reach in terms of likability and composure, provides a foil for Tim Robinson’s Craig, highlighting how standards for friendship and connection can become unattainable benchmarks. The chemical mix of charm, social skill, and hidden troubles forms a commentary on how men grapple with self-worth, especially when placed alongside those who excel naturally at camaraderie.
As ‘Friendship’ makes its mark as a dark comedy about modern male relationships, it taps into the simmering tensions and silent struggles often overlooked in mainstream narratives. Bringing together key talents like Paul Rudd, Tim Robinson, Kate Mara, and director Andrew DeYoung, the film prompts reflection on why friendship, particularly among men, can bring as much turmoil as comfort. Its reception, both by critics and the wider audience, is likely to provoke deeper conversation about loneliness, the search for approval, and the complex ties that shape adult life in an uneasy era.
