“I woke up this morning and ordered myself a beer.” It’s understandable how a generation of young people would turn the lyrics, from The Doors’ 1970 recording of “Roadhouse Blues,” into a hallmark of school yearbooks in the following decade. But when Craig (former Saturday Night Live actor and comedy writer Tim Robinson), the nerdy, middle-aged protagonist of “Friendship,” offers a beer to his 16-year-old son (Jack Dylan Grazer) and his son’s girlfriend at 7:30 a.m. on a school day, it’s simply inappropriate. Craig is inappropriate, to a fault.
For whatever reason—he’s on the spectrum, or on a spectrum, or he’s bipolar, or just trying too hard to be popular—Craig doesn’t grasp the most basic social codes, the rules of everyday behavior that govern human relationships in a particular setting: in this case, a small town in Colorado. Craig isn't a victim of social media, like so many young people these days (though he does have a fetish for Marvel movie superheroes, an obsession that can't possibly be useful in real life). In fact, he's not a victim at all. He's married to florist Tami, a stable, competent, and beautiful woman (Kate Mara) who cares for him, even if she tolerates his strange and erratic behavior. Their son is maturing as expected. He has a good job in (ironically) public relations, working with a group of men who know he's a bit odd but seem to value his contributions to the business.
Director: Andrew DeYoung
Writer: Andrew DeYoung
Stars: Tim Robinson, Paul Rudd, Kate Mara
And, at the beginning of the film, Craig receives a warm welcome from his new neighbor Austin (Paul Rudd), a guy with a spectacular mane of hair who forecasts the weather for the local nightly TV news and has all sorts of inventive hobbies, from playing in a rock band to exploring the town's sewer tunnels. Austin extends his hand in a sign of "friendship" to the awkward, awkward man-child who shows up at his door. It requires a strong dose of "willing suspension of disbelief" to accept it, but Craig is accepted. While Rudd, the big star here, is magnificent as the nuanced guy, it's Robinson's complex performance as Craig—at once innocent, devious, needy, angry, inept, and hapless—that holds the film together.
From that first handshake, writer-director Andrew DeYoung's film concerns male friendship in middle age, a rare quality in a society where real contact has been replaced by Facebook and Instagram or inhibited by COVID-19, and spaces for social interaction—"third places," like neighborhood taverns and convenience stores, bookstores, and even malls—have given way to Amazon, TikTok, and drinks at home. Guys like Craig bowl alone.
Austin's welcome goes deeper than that handshake. He invites Craig to his friends' get-togethers, a tight-knit group with their own idiosyncrasies, including garage boxing matches and embarrassing group songs—the first signs that Austin's life isn't as "cool" or as simple as it seems. A drug-induced fantasy suggests Craig might understand that Austin, the famously small-time meteorologist, though recently promoted to the morning weather show, isn't so far from earning a living at Subway.
Shortly after the neighbors meet, the plot takes an unexpected turn. Instead of the beginning of Craig's upbringing—with the inevitable setbacks, the eventual acceptance of a changed Craig by his new friends, and a heartwarming finale—DeYoung offers something bordering on tragedy: a man who can't overcome his seriocomic ineptitude. It happens fast. At Austin's first boys' party, Craig breaks in and smashes a glass door (a metaphor for his inability to "see").
As the men turn around in astonishment, Craig can only say, "How did you two meet?" Despite some glimmers of redemption—an occasional sign that he's learning the "rules"—even Craig knows it's not enough. "I do everything too late," he reflects, having finally bought his wife the van she'd long needed for her business. It's unclear why she married him in the first place (or why she stayed with him for so many years). Thankfully, we're spared couples therapy and other manifestations of the therapeutic.
Craig's visible discomfort at entering a group whose vibe he doesn't quite tap into is a reminder of some of the social experiences any of us have had. It's also a reflection of life on social media today, where we're all one misstep away from being mocked, outcast, and cast out of a community.
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