A short consideration of Companion (#1390)

Topics/tags: Reviews

The other day, some of my offspring and I watched Companion on HBO Max (or whatever it calls itself these days). Since I need practice writing about media, I’m going to try to write something about it. If all goes well, I’ll write these mini reviews of much of the media I consume. As I’ve noted previously, I don’t feel especially competent at writing about media. Perhaps not even thinking carefully about media. But the way to get better is to try, right?

Writing about movies seems complex. In part, that’s because part of my young adult life was overly consumed with movies and writing about them. I’ve lost count of how many Film Studies classes I took, all with Gerald Mast. And I projected and shipped way too many films when working for Doc films back in college [1,2]. I certainly wrote long, detailed, analytical papers about film. And poor Professor Mast had to deal with my mediocre writing. In any case, I don’t watch movies like I used to. I pay less careful attention to angles, cuts, composition, and more. When watching at home, I’m also more likely to be multitasking; I was musing while watching Companion.

Still, I can write something. Or I can try.

Companion is a difficult film to review. The first review I saw, which prompted me to watch it, revealed a major plot point. I didn’t give away that point when I suggested the film to my kids, so they experienced the first third of the movie quite differently than I did. Hence, I don’t want to reveal the point to my readers, either. And I caution you not to read too many reviews of the movie if you’re considering watching it.

I should also caution you that the movie has a lot of gore. Too much gore, from my perspective. Especially for a movie that bills itself as a dark comedy. Bloody dark seems like a better appellation. But explicit violence has become a major part of modern film; perhaps I’m just behind the times. In any case, I wanted to warn you.

As I noted, Companion is a dark comedy. At the core of the movie is a trip by three couples to a secluded lakeside house owned by one member of one of the couples. One couple consists of our leads, Iris and Josh. We don’t know much about what they do, just that they’re a couple. Sergey, a wealthy Russian, owns the house. His partner for the trip is his mistress, Kat, a close friend of Josh. Iris thinks Kat dislikes her. We know because she tells Josh. Eli and Patrick are the third couple. They’re friends with the others, though the movie gives us few details about that friendship.

I suppose the film is about relationships and autonomy. It’s also about technology; at least it has robots. Or maybe it’s just an excuse for blood, guts, and a few jokes. I’m not sure I’d bill it as a comedy; while some parts elicited great laughter, there weren’t many such parts. It’s also not a horror film, even though it’s a bloody film. Let’s leave it as a strange take on relationships and autonomy.

The opening does give us a bit of a heads-up. It’s the story of how Iris and Josh first met, more or less. Iris narrates.

Most of the time, it’s like … I don’t know. It’s like there’s this thick, black cloud covering everything. Like we see the world. But we don’t really see the world. You know? We’re all just stumbling around.

Directionless.

No sense of meaning.

No sense of purpose.

I know that might sound super depressing. But, honestly, I think it’s a good thing.

Because it makes us appreciate the other times. Those brief, transcendent moments when the lights flicker on, the black cloud parts, and you see the world for what it really is. And suddenly there’s meaning. Suddenly, there’s purpose.

If you’re lucky, you’ll experience this once in your lifetime.

For me, it happened twice.

The first was the day I met Josh.

And the second … the day I killed him.

That certainly suggests there will be violence, although not blood and gore. Perhaps it also tells us more about the movie’s subjects: It’s about how we understand meaning and purpose. Perhaps.

As I said, there are some very funny parts. I don’t want to write about them, particularly since discussing might reveal more about some important surprises. But there’s one part that I think I can share. You see, robots can’t lie. And, unfortunately, there comes a point when they need to talk to the police about what’s happened. They don’t want to incriminate themselves. They don’t want the robot to incriminate them. So they reset the robot to make German its default language. The robot reveals too many details. In German. We know that the robot has described the murder; we see subtitles [3]. The police have no idea what’s been said. Funny. Perhaps even a commentary on technology. Or how we understand meaning.

It’s all Greek German to me.

Did the film deeply inform my understanding of technology, meaning, appearances, relationships, autonomy? Not really.

Did I laugh? At times. Sometimes loudly.

Did some scenes disturb me? Definitely.

Did the gore move the plot forward? Not really. I didn’t find it necessary.

Am I glad I spent the time watching the film? Yes, I think so. As I said, there were some very funny parts. I also enjoyed some new approaches to some trite themes. And I think parts of it will come up in future conversations with the kids.

Would I watch it again? Perhaps. One son didn’t join us for the viewing; I’d certainly watch it with him if he wanted to. However, I’d watch casually, while doing something else on the computer. I don’t think it would be worth my while to pay close attention to the director’s choice of shots, transitions, framing, and more.

Should you watch it? Yes, I’d recommend it. However, that’s with the disclaimer that it’s mostly light entertainment. Light entertainment with blood and gore.

[1] The College. At least that’s what it called itself. Perhaps The College at The University of Chicago.

[2] This was in the days in Cobb Hall, if I recall correctly.

[3] I don’t know what support they provide for non-sighted viewers.

Version 1.0 of 2026-01-06.