Companion

Reviewing Companion presents a minor dilemma. Do I write about the twisty experience beyond the first fifteen minutes and explore its themes, even if that means diving into spoiler territory? Or do I play the game, write around its ideas, and say nothing in this review? Since the most fascinating aspects of writer-director Drew Hancock’s darkly comic sci-fi thriller involve reveals later in the story, consider yourself warned that I plan to talk about some of them, albeit without giving away the whole story. Then again, perhaps I shouldn’t worry about revealing too much. Warner Bros.’s marketing hasn’t bothered trying to keep the movie’s secrets. And a few days before seeing Companion, I looked up the runtime and found that Google’s one-sentence logline gave away a major secret. Moreover, while most movies play better without knowing much about them in advance, this one might benefit from learning the setup beforehand. Either way, once it’s over, its unmistakable warning against misogyny hiding beneath the surface of nice guy behaviors will doubtless strike a chord with many viewers. 

Just last week, Steven Soderbergh’s superb ghost story, Presence, featured a one-of-the-good-ones teenage boy who turned out to have a penchant for date-rape drugs and murder. This week, Jack Quaid uses that irrepressibly charming smile he inherited from his father to play Josh, a nerdy guy who lucked out when he met the vaguely retro-styled Iris (Sophie Thatcher) in a grocery store meet-cute. While fruit shopping, he knocks over some oranges. In that instant, they looked into each other’s eyes and found love at first sight. Sometime later, they head to a lakeside “cabin” (a lavish estate surrounded by forest) for a weekend with Josh’s friends—among them Kat (Megan Suri) and her wealthy Russian lover Sergey (Rupert Friend), plus the couple Eli (Harvey Guillén) and Patrick (Lukas Gage). Iris feels like an outsider in such company, certain that Kat doesn’t like her. Maybe it’s because Iris is a robot. 

While some viewers might see this as a twist, it’s better processed as a development that gives way to a commentary on toxic male behavior. The warning signs appear early on: Josh tells Iris to “remember to smile and be happy” during their weekend getaway. His wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am performance in bed leads to an indelicate post-coital demeanor. And his nickname for her, Beep-Boop, sounds cute enough but has a disturbing undercurrent. Iris already feels like an interloper, and to make matters worse, everyone else seems to be in on a private joke. Then, on the morning after their first night, Iris fends off a sexual assault from Sergey on the beach, who claims, “This is what you are for.” After Iris defends herself, Josh explains to her that she’s not a real person—she’s a “fuckbot” or, if she would prefer, an “emotional support bot.” When Josh creepily smiles to himself while feigning sympathy, acknowledging that this must be a lot for Iris to “process,” it’s apparent that he’s callow scum.

Drawing from The Stepford Wives, Blade Runner (1982), A.I. Artificial Intelligence (2001), Ex Machina (2014), and maybe a hint of M3GAN (2023), Hancock uses Iris’ status as an artificial person to warn against men who prefer their women to be docile and compliant drones, subservient to their partner’s happiness and every sexual whim. Maybe too many video games with customizable characters have brought out a disturbing need in some men to personalize or “mod” their romantic partners—Josh can control Iris’ eye color, vocal pitch, or even her intelligence with an app on his smartphone. But if Pygmalion and Vertigo (1958) are any indication, this is nothing new. So maybe our patriarchal culture has taught men to see women as nonentities whose bodies can be controlled and whose personalities should conform to their needs. Call them incels, assholes, or a variety of other names, but they’re everywhere, and the current sociopolitical landscape enables their behavior. Josh is a particularly nasty example, and his plans for Iris prove ever more dehumanizing as the movie unfolds.

Companion entertainingly wraps its shrewd critique in a tense sci-fi suspenser with dark humor and lively performances. Since her breakout role in Prospect (2018) and subsequent performances in Showtime’s Yellowjackets and last year’s Heretic, Thatcher has become a welcome presence in genre fare. She doesn’t have an android look, but her sudden switches are convincing when Josh commands Iris to “go to sleep” or changes her language or behavioral settings. She’s terrific in the part. Quaid, best known for Prime Video’s The Boys, delivers one of the most insidious characters in recent memory; his line delivery is oddly congenial, while the context is often chilling. Guillén and Gage have a playful chemistry that begins to resemble the Josh-Iris dynamic, suggesting the film’s theme goes beyond gender dynamics and considers the role of power in all relationships. Regardless, Companion has the potential to tap into the AI-obsessed zeitgeist in a fun, accessible way, as only a socially conscious B-movie can. 

In technical terms, Hancock and his producers (who contributed to 2022’s Barbarian) deliver a serviceable production with few stylistic indulgences. Eli Born’s cinematography and the efficient editing ensure that every shot advances the story. Only the repeated bookend narration feels a little hammy, but perhaps it’s fitting in this material. In any event, whenever a movie has so many twists and turns, it’s worth asking what the filmmakers achieve beyond a flashy method of revealing secrets and delivering gotcha moments. For instance, last year’s Strange Darling—about a date that goes from bad to worse and then some—doesn’t have much to say beyond its otherwise excellent non-chronological plot structure, which delivers shocking information every fifteen minutes or so. Fortunately, Companion only gets better when you look at the whole picture, and it will likely continue to reward subsequent viewings.