FRIENDSHIP (2024) - 5/29/2025
Why are we so addicted to cringe?
In late May, comedian, actor, and as we now know pilot, Nathan Fielder went on CNN to not only talk about his show, but to condemn the FAA further. If you are unaware, Nathan Fielder’s third American show, The Rehearsal, blew up for its insane second season plot. Fielder - a cult favorite amongst people like myself - blew up with his Comedy Central show Nathan for You which in it’s own dry way, skewered fix-em-up consulting television shows (i.e. Bar Rescue) with local establishments, but was truly about a lonely man trying to make connections in an isolated world. While it went on to have several viral moments, no capstone of the show may be as important as Errol Morris’ series finale review for The New Yorker.
Fielder parlayed that into another television show for HBO called The Rehearsal, where he would find people and rehearse situations with them to prepare them for the best and for the worst. The first season then spiraled out of control and was one of the most amazing pieces of television ever recorded. To top that, he came in blazing on the second season, claiming he could fix what he believes to be the source of the main issue of major airline crashes.
To recap what Fielder does here in one episode - let a lone an entire season - would be absurd and you would think I am crazy for even trying to explain it, but as my friend said it best earlier this past season, “He is such a little freak.”
One of the most referred to series of television, even twelve years after its series finale, is The Office. Maybe it’s because I am of a generation that grew up with it, but its hold on popular culture rang so true for the longest time. You can point to most episodes, really most anything Michael Scott says, as being the quirkiest (negative) things to be uttered. But if you were to ask any person which episodes stand out, you are likely going to hear one of, if not both, of the following episodes: “Dinner Party” or “Scott’s Tots”.
If you read those words, and your skin crawled a little, that makes sense. The most endearing part of the show was the awkward, questionable behavior of Steve Carrell’s main character. To watch a relationship unfold amidst a hosted party is painful. To watch a man navigate his way through a decade-old promise to pay college tuition for an entire class of graduating seniors (that he forgot he made) is excruciating. Yet, people recall these not for the pain, but for the humor and anxiety we’ve attached to them.
Tim Robinson has a special place in my heart. My first job in narrative television was on The Characters, a one season Netlflix show that let a comedian have an episode to do whatever variety performance they wanted to. And while the show may have been ill-begotten, the cast it had (the comedians that helmed each episode) were proven to be a harbinger of the comedy future. This is where I was first really introduced to Tim.
Over the years, I fell for his over-the-top, explosive, dumb, and loving style of comedy. Detroiters was a show I never expected to like, but fell in love with one night when a couple of my roommates decided to stay in on a Friday in 2017 and watch the entire first season. When my friend introduced me to I Think You Should Leave, I was uncertain, but the quick 15 minute, six episode season won my heart in more ways than one. I quickly became an acolyte of the absurd and furthered the agenda by showing it to everyone and anyone, throwing it on as background fodder at parties, and spreading the word anyway I could. But it is not an easy watch by a means - it is brutal and tough and painfully, horrifically awkward. Yet we still persist.
When Tim Robinson’ Friendship hit theaters, I was determined to see it, semi-cognizant, but mostly unaware of what I was getting into. And as most people have correctly said, it’s a prolonged version of ITYSL, but with an A24 wrapper.
It is an odd choice to say the least, but you can tell he wanted to lean into what is generally viewed as the A24 sensibilities: dryness; hints of creepy, pervasive, thematic tones; driving, underlying score that creates unease. It makes sense for a man who clearly wanted to evolve his humor and take it to the next step of making your skin absolutely fucking crawl, as you force yourself to sit there through it all. But why do we do this to ourselves?
I bring up the previous examples as well because they are all in conversation with each other across the past twenty years. Comedy is an ever evolving engine, yet for two decades, a very pervasive form has been the type of thing that makes us squeam when we view it, yet we go back for more. Maybe this is akin to the horror effect: we want to test our limits without actually experiencing the thing. Simulated awkwardness is a version of playing into our fears without actually enduring the atrocities of making small talk, or trying to be romantic, or doing that thing we probably shouldn’t do but do it anyways because we never listen to the correct voice in our heads.
Maybe it’s the state of the world for twenty five years. How we’ve been constantly uncertain what is and is not okay in an American landscape that is both trying to reckon with its identity and guard it at the same time. How we have crawled into ourselves further and further, avoiding actual human contact, so when the time comes we don’t know what to do. Or maybe it’s because we have so much more access to people’s lives more than ever before, which makes us believe that everything and everyone is always good, therefore we should also always try to be good and cool and funny, but that’s not how life works.
We like to watch dangerous things that trigger our amygdala and gives that sense of adrenaline and the pleasure that unfolds from it, but only behind a glass. I’m sure you’d love to see a tiger, but I doubt you’d really want to risk going up and actually pet it? I obviously have no doctorates or medical degrees in the field, but for some reason we just seem to love to force ourselves in front of a screen to make our selves squirm and potentially cover our eyes all in the name of humor, time and time again. And I’m sure each time I’ll be right there with a blanket covering half of my face for protection.