Friendship review: Can Tim Robinsons I Think You Should Leave sensibilities sustain a full-length movie?

At this point, just the sight of Tim Robinson's face is a comedic weapon.

Case in point: the opening scene of Friendship, which begins with a tight shot on cancer survivor Tami (Kate Mara) sharing with her support group. As the camera zooms out, her husband Craig (Robinson) comes into view beside her, and his look of too-intense concentration is enough to send anyone into orbit. It's not long before he opens his mouth to glibly interrupt Tami's worries about her cancer returning, just the first of many social faux pas Craig will commit across the course of Friendship.

If you're both cringing and cackling at the thought of this interaction, that's the Robinson effect. The I Think You Should Leave creator is a master at wringing comedy from social anxiety, as well as crafting oddball characters whose quirks are only outweighed by their earnestness (and their propensity for shouting). All these qualities are on display in Friendship, a film that tests the limits of how much Robinson-style cringe comedy you can stand.

Hardcore Robinson fans will likely enjoy, but even as a Robinson appreciator, I felt that the I Think You Should Leave-style bits that make the film's early scenes such an uncomfortable blast quickly lose their sheen. They work well in sketches, but can they hold up the weight of an entire feature film? Friendship, written and directed by Andrew DeYoung, suggests not.

What's Friendship about?

Tim Robinson and Paul Rudd in "Friendship." Credit: A24

At its core, Friendship is all about the trials of male friendship and male loneliness. Robinson's Craig has little to no social life — as Tami points out, he always spends his evenings sitting in their living room. ("You don't know my schedule!" Craig spits, one of many great Robinson line readings.)

So when neighbor Austin (Paul Rudd) invites Craig over for a drink, it's more than just a friendly get-together. For Craig, it's the start of a brand-new, beautiful future. In fantasy sequences, he sees himself playing drums in Craig's band, then leading Craig and a larger crew through the apocalypse.

His encounters with Austin are almost as fantastical as his imagined future. Austin brings him through their town's sewer system to the top of city hall. He takes Craig mushroom foraging. He encourages Craig to ditch his phone, to buy a drum set, to try new things.

But their beautiful friendship collapses after a nightmare hang with Austin's other friends. One shattered glass door, several bruised noses, and one a capella cover of Ghost Town DJs' "My Boo" later, Craig is ousted from Austin's inner circle and left to spiral.

Friendship starts strong, then unravels.

Tim Robinson in "Friendship." Credit: A24

These opening sequences of Craig and Austin's early meets are Friendship's strongest, with Robinson nailing the awkward catch-up of hanging out with someone you definitely want to be friends with. Rudd, meanwhile, excels as a character who has his own struggles and ambitions — like wanting to be the morning weatherman instead of the evening — but who also exists for Craig to project his fantasies of friendship onto. Their odd-couple dynamic is rife with opportunities for anxiety-inducing laughs, which comes to a fever pitch in the aforementioned group hang.

But once Craig and Austin have their friendship breakup, Friendship finds itself as adrift as Craig. The film meanders from one bit to the next — like a disastrous meeting with the town mayor, or an unsuccessful return to the sewers — with each acting like its own sketch that's been awkwardly strung together. Perhaps this unmoored feeling is DeYoung's goal, to place us in Craig's shoes as he navigates life without a friend who meant so much to him. Yet with so many sections feeling so underwhelming — only a toad-induced drug trip truly delivers on Friendship's comedic strangeness — you may find yourself feeling more disengaged than unmoored.

Something similar happens with Craig, who often reads as a collection of gags as opposed to a full-fledged character. He's both obsessed with wanting to see "the new Marvel" but deathly afraid of having it spoiled. He eats soap in order to repent for being a "bad boy." His biggest goal in life is finishing a local bar's novelty meal themed around the SEALs who killed Osama Bin Laden. These are all hilarious both in and out of context in Friendship, helped along by Robinson's reliably panicked — often screaming — delivery. But are we laughing because Craig is a character we've grown to know over the course of the film, or because we're projecting our prior experiences of watching Robinson in similar roles onto Craig?

Friendship still elicits plenty of laughs and discomfort from its look at a collapsed friendship. Ultimately, though, it overstays its welcome, much like Craig at a group hang.

Friendship is now in theaters.