The Friend

It's a major testament to Naomi Watts (and to writer/directors Scott McGehee and David Siegel for giving the wonderful Watts her first decent role in too many years) that I could enjoy a film with this one's premise. In The Friend, Watts stars as a single, middle-aged writer and creative writing teacher named Iris, who agrees to take in the beloved Great Dane of her mentor and closest friend, Walter (Bill Murray), after Walter commits suicide. The temporary situation quickly starts to look permanent as soon as the giant creature, Apollo, ensconces himself into Iris's life, destabilizing her work, rent-controlled living situation, and various other aspects of her lifestyle. On the plus side, having the dog around also brings a new order to her existence, enabling her to see her past, present, and future in positive, healing ways.

No matter how much I loved someone I'd lost, I could never take even a small dog into my life full-time, let alone bring a giant animal into a Manhattan apartment where pets are not allowed. The very idea of agreeing to such a pet rehousing arrangement, even on a temporary basis, is powerfully off-putting to me. Since I make it a point not to know anything about a film before seeing it, other than the poster art, I had no idea what I was in for other than a drama with these two lead actors. I watched much of The Friend the way an android might observe human behavior from a distance, slowly short-circuiting out of sheer inability to comprehend why humans do so many of the things they do. Still, seeing a feature-length drama about an ordinary, single, middle-aged woman is so refreshing that I became engaged despite the massive canine storyline. It helps that such an endearing animal actor was found to play the dog in question. Bing, as he's credited, has real chemistry with Watts, and her performance is so affecting that she seems to communicate authentically with her furry, sad-eyed scene partner. Watts does beautiful work here, playing many two-hander scenes in which she is the only actor to have dialogue.

There's also a solid supporting cast, including Sarah Pidgeon as Walter's adult daughter, Noma Dumezweni as his academic colleague, Ann Dowd as Iris's concerned neighbor, Felix Solis as the building manager whom she puts in a compromised position by keeping the dog, and Carla Gugino as one of Walter's ex-wives. I had mistakenly thought both Watts and Gugino were formerly married to Walter when we first see them together at the wake held by his literary friends. For a little of the film's first act, I kept trying to figure out which one was married to him first. However, an excellent later scene between these two characters explores their different relationships with this man who started as the writing professor to both of them.

Scenes like that one, deepening our understanding of Watts’ and Gugino's characters while exploring the inner lives of sophisticated urban women outside of a caricatured Sex in the City milieu, are precisely why I'll stick through a film in which a big, smelly dog is used as an oversized metaphor for the unexpected emotional baggage we're left holding when we unexpectedly lose someone we love. Contemporary American movies are starved for moments like that brief exchange between those two women, in which they assess their connection and the odd way the other makes them feel because of how their relationships with the deceased man turned out. It's a short, honest, powerful scene of simple connection and minor revelation that harkens back to earlier eras when most movies were about the lives of fairly regular adults. The Friend passes the Bechdel Test, but the fact that most of its best scenes involve two women talking about a man illustrates the shortsightedness of using Alison Bechdel's pointedly humorous observation as an actual litmus test for screenwriting.

Though second-billed, Murray is also more of a supporting player in this picture since his character's death inspires this story. We see him mostly in flashbacks and scenes that play out in Iris's imagination. One such scene near the end is written, shot, and performed flawlessly. Watts and Murray are ideal casting for every aspect of these roles, but this final scene between them makes this pleasant-enough movie into something special. Murray's embodiment of everything Walter is meant to be is assisted by the fact that the 74-year-old comic actor looks like a giant, jowly, sad-eyed Great Dane himself, and he has always had the reputation of the most charming guy you could ever meet unless you're one of the myriad folks who've had unpleasant experiences with him, in both professional and casual contexts.

The filmmakers and actors leaning into these extra-textural elements further set this movie apart from the simplified way most modern characters in drama and comedy are drawn. This story and Watts' exquisitely relatable performance remind us that human beings are complicated and multifaceted and that not everyone we love is necessarily a great person in all contexts, yet that is rarely a reason not to love them. The movie comes at its exploration of grief and loss, love and friendship, care and self-care, from a refreshingly mature perspective. The Friend is the eighth feature by the writing/producing/directing team of McGehee and Siegel. I've seen only one of their other films—What Maisie Knew (2012), which they didn't produce or write the screenplay for—but The Friend makes me want to check out more of their work.