It’s a shame that the first great gag of The Friend has already been spoiled by the trailer.
Iris (Naomi Watts), a novelist and creative writing teacher, has been asked to take in the dog owned by her best friend, Walter (Bill Murray), who died of suicide.
“This is what Walter wanted,” insists Barbara (Noma Dumezweni), Walter’s third (and last) wife.
There’s no proof of this and, to be honest, it’s slightly sus that Barbara doesn’t like dogs, but Iris reluctantly agrees.
She heads to the shelter to collect Apollo. We already know from Walter’s colorful description of stumbling across Apollo in the park after a run that the dog is “giant.” But we don’t realize just how giant. The camera pans briefly to a cute pittie curled in the back of a pen. Nope. Not Apollo. Then out he comes—a magnificent, massive Great Dane. And not just any Great Dane, an absolute unit, weighing more than 150 pounds.
Did I mention that Iris lives in a small, rent-controlled Greenwich Village apartment?
A story like this could’ve gone many ways, including broad comedy, but that’s not the kind of movie The Friend is.
You see, Apollo is grieving, much like Iris is. He stares at her—or more accurately, beyond her—with big, mournful eyes that, frankly, resemble Bill Murray’s. (Although in Apollo’s case, one eye is blue and one is brown—the David Bowie of dogs.)
Although Barbara assured Iris that Apollo was well-trained and knew to stay off the furniture, he makes a beeline for the bed, where he splays out dejectedly. He won’t eat. He won’t play. He won’t use the elevator (at least Iris is getting her cardio). And he won’t let Iris on her own bed.
The only things that seem to give him comfort are Walter’s old Columbia University sweatshirt and having someone read to him, which Walter apparently did a lot.
Watching The Friend I couldn’t help but to notice that, although it’s mostly populated with women, it doesn’t pass The Bechdel Test, as all these women are always discussing Walter.
The film is a bit retro in that regard—Walter was supposed to have been a literary giant, and he’s constantly quoted, celebrated, and forgiven for his many sins, which include affairs and a grown daughter, Val (Sarah Pidgeon), that he just recently introduced to the world.
And get this, Val and Iris are writing a book together called Letters which is, you guessed it, a collection of Walter’s letters. Although the film is based on Sigrid Nunez’s acclaimed novel of the same name, which came out in 2018, the whole feels very 20th century.
Hell, even Apollo is male. (I kid, I kid.)
Despite my concern with its Great Man Theory approach to storytelling, I did like The Friend quite a bit. It’s an example of my favorite genre—Manhattan intellectuals in life and love, dressed in lots of wool blends and tweed, as seen in the films of Woody Allen, Nicole Holofcener, and Noah Baumbach.
The film is very self-consciously literary—everyone’s working on a novel; they have a flashback to Walter giving a reading; and Samuel Beckett is quoted liberally.
Another tiny gripe: Walter is supposed to have been a genius, always dicey to pull off in a film, and we can mostly believe it. Murray, who is mostly seen in flashbacks as Walter, has that wise, rumpled, larger-than-life way about him that allows you to believe he was both a revered writer and notorious lady’s man. But some of the passages read from his books don’t pass the literary smell test. Would a literary giant truly say that someone was “sadly bereft”? (As an editor, I’d stet the word sadly and write REDUNDANT in red caps.)
But enough about Walter. This movie really is about Iris and Apollo, who slowly come to rely on each other. And kudos to Bing, who plays Apollo (and his trainers, I suppose—although clearly this dog is a natural). This is one of the best dog performances I’ve ever seen. The dog truly seems sad, then less so as he and Iris get closer, and then, in the final scenes, he limps! (Daniel Dog Lewis anyone?)
The central conflict of the film is that Iris isn’t allowed to have Apollo, or any dog, in her apartment. It’s hard enough to stow away a Chihuahua or a Yorkie. Try sneaking a Great Dane into your apartment. And since her apartment is rent controlled, her landlord is itching to get her out of there so he can jack up the rent.
There’s a cute subplot involving a kindly superintendent (Felix Solis) who keeps firmly telling Iris she needs to get rid of Apollo, even though he secretly loves dogs, too.
And that’s pretty much it. The film has pleasingly low stakes. Will Iris be able to reclaim her own bed? Will she start her novel again? Will she be forced out of her apartment? Will Walter’s second wife (Carla Gugino) come to accept Val, who was conceived very shortly after they split?
And since I’m whacking the film for its male-centric plot, let me give it credit for something borderline radical. Iris is in her late 40s, or so. Lives alone. Has no husband. And the film is okay with that. I’m loath to admit that, at one point, when she visits the office of a therapist (Tom McCarthy), I thought, “Could he be a love interest?”
Shame on me. This is not that kind of film. Iris has one love interest in The Friend: a big, beautiful, sad-eyed dog.