By M. Faust
(Image above: Tim Robinson and Paul Rudd in Friendship)

A little Tim Robinson goes a long why, which is probably why his Netflix sketch comedy show “I Think You Should Leave” only runs about 16 minutes per episode.

A mildly odd looking fellow who uses his appearance as part of his comic persona, Robinson doesn’t play the same character in every sketch, but they’re all from the same playbook, someone acting in ways that are wildly socially inappropriate. Sometimes this is in reaction to an odd set of circumstances; more often it’s due to the character’s inexplicably warped nature. Some of it is funny, but by the end of any given episode I’m never compelled to binge watch the rest of the series. 

Friendship, Robinson’s starring film debut, runs for 97 minutes, which is the equivalent of six episodes of the series. And that’s way too much. 

Robinson plays Craig Waterman, a marketing executive who lives with his wife Tami (Kate Mara) and teenaged son in a Colorado suburb. His life seems as dull as the earth-colored shades that comprise his wardrobe. 

A chance meeting with new neighbor Austin Carmichael (Paul Rudd), a local TV weatherman, leaves him smitten. At first this seems mutual: Austin introduces him to his hobbies, and Craig gives him career advice that wins him a promotion. But when Craig’s social ineptitude gets out of control, Austin tries to put the brakes on the relationship, leaving Craig into increasingly desperate attempts to salvage it. 

The script (written by Andrew DeYoung, who also directed) offers clues that Craig is at an unsettled period in his life. Tami is struggling with the aftereffects of a recent bout with cancer, complains about sexual dissatisfaction and seems to have a growing dependency on an ex-boyfriend. His teenaged son is growing apart from his parents and becoming his own person.  

But the film does nothing to explore Craig’s psychology. He seems always to have been this imperfectly formed man-child who stopped developing at the age of 12 — the standard Tim Robinson character. As Craig’s increasingly ludicrous efforts to win back Austin’s friendship succeed only in destroying every other aspect of his life, we find ourselves not empathizing with him but rather questioning how he ever got as far as he did in life. How could this man with no apparent grasp of human relationships ever have fallen in love, raised a child, had a successful career in a field that relies on an understanding of human behavior? 

(As far as any serious exploration of the film’s tag line, “Men shouldn’t have friends,” forget it.) 

Robinson got his start as a writer and performer on “Saturday Night Live”; his Netflix series is produced by the SNL offshoot The Lonely Island. Did none of those people warn him about all the failed movies based on SNL sketch characters—The Ladies Man, It’s Pat, Superstar, A Night at the Roxbury? Friendship demonstrates that those who do not remember film history are condemned to repeat it.