There’s a scene in The Friend where Iris (Naomi Watts)—a novelist and teacher—listens as one of her male students argues that ordinary women aren’t interesting enough to carry a story. Ironically, The Friend goes on to prove that this isn’t true… even if the film itself doesn’t fully believe it.
Iris’s mentor, Walter (Bill Murray), was a charismatic writer with admirers, lovers, and a lifetime of messes. After his suicide, Iris inherits his Great Dane, Apollo—the “friend” mentioned in the title. But Iris already has her own problems: she’s caught in a spiral of writer’s block, living in a New York apartment that doesn’t allow dogs, and grieving in quiet isolation. So the question becomes—can she care for the dog, or is it actually she who needs care?
If you’ve seen even one drama where a broken character finds healing through an animal, you probably know what to expect from The Friend. Thankfully, the relationship between Iris and Apollo is rendered with genuine tenderness and reaches an effective emotional climax, becoming the clear heart of the film. A lot of credit goes to Naomi Watts, who gives a deeply vulnerable and layered performance—in a better film, she’d deserve to be in the awards conversation. But the film’s most magnetic presence is, of course, the dog. Apollo—played by the impressively expressive Bing—commands every frame. His size and clumsy movements bring visual charm and a few laughs, but it’s his quiet sadness and unwavering loyalty that make him unforgettable. There’s real poignancy in the way he simply stares at Iris with calm defiance, refusing to budge, and in the more emotionally loaded moments at the vet or in her apartment. The bond between them feels earned and moving. And that, really, should have been enough.
Unfortunately, the movie doesn’t seem to think so.
It surrounds Iris with a wide cast of characters who range from inconsequential to actively grating. The actors—Bill Murray, Sarah Pidgeon, Carla Gugino, Constance Wu—are strong on paper, but they’re saddled with roles so unlikable and underwritten that every time they show up, the film loses momentum. Walter, in particular, reappears in a lengthy third-act flashback that drags down the pace and pulls focus from the far more compelling present. The film’s fixation on Walter’s inexplicable allure to various women is by far its least engaging thread—and it could have been trimmed significantly, if not cut altogether.
It’s a shame the film doesn’t trust that Iris—and her evolving connection with a very likable dog—could carry the weight of the story.
Sometimes, a film benefits from keeping it simple. The Friend shines in its quietest moments, when it stops trying to complicate what was already working.