‘The Friend’ Review – A Love Letter To Grief, Companionship, And One Very Good Dog

There is something truly special about the way a big, sad-eyed dog can just take over your life without you even realizing it’s happening. One minute, you’re setting rules—no dogs on the bed, no extra treats, no getting attached—and the next, you’re curled up on the floor because the dog took the entire mattress, and you’re reading him poetry like he’s your most devoted audience. That’s the kind of magic at the heart of The Friend, a film that sneaks up on you like an unexpected hug, warm and a little tight, but exactly what you needed.

Naomi Watts plays Iris, a writer whose life has just been upended by the sudden loss of her best friend, Walter (played by Bill Murray in flashbacks that are both achingly poignant and effortlessly charming). Walter, in his infinite wisdom—or maybe just mischief—leaves her with Apollo, his gigantic, droopy-faced Great Dane, as if to say, “Here, take care of him, and maybe he’ll take care of you, too.” At first, it’s an inconvenience. Who has time for a horse-sized dog in a too-small New York apartment? But grief doesn’t arrive in neat packages, and neither does love. It tumbles in unannounced, with oversized paws and an old soul, waiting patiently for you to stop fighting it.

Apollo isn’t just a pet; he’s a presence. Played by the canine actor named Bing, he’s got the kind of face that makes you want to tell him your secrets, the kind of eyes that seem to have read more novels than you have. Iris, wrapped up in her own sorrow, can’t quite figure out what to do with him. The building has a strict no-pets policy, her landlord is less than sympathetic, and she’s barely holding her life together as it is. But Apollo doesn’t care about any of that. He just knows she’s sad, and he’s going to stay beside her until she figures things out.

The film, directed by Scott McGehee and David Siegel, is both delicate and deeply felt, never overplaying its hand. It doesn’t yank at your heartstrings—it gently plucks them, like a lullaby you didn’t know you remembered. Watts, with her quiet brilliance, gives us an Iris who is brittle at first, all sharp edges and exhaustion, but softens as the story unfolds. It’s one of the best performances of her career, filled with raw vulnerability and an understated grace that makes every moment feel achingly real. Her transformation isn’t sudden or dramatic, but subtle, like the way grief shifts from unbearable to something you carry without thinking about it too much.

And then, of course, there’s Walter. Murray is the kind of actor who can make a single line feel like an entire novel, and even though he’s gone for most of the movie, his presence lingers like a familiar scent. He was the kind of man who could make you laugh even when you were furious with him, the kind of friend who was probably impossible to live with but even harder to live without. His relationship with Iris is complicated, layered with unspoken things and the kind of intimacy that doesn’t need labels. Through his letters, through the memories shared by those he left behind, we start to see him not just as a lost friend, but as a deeply imperfect, deeply human person who left ripples in the lives of everyone he touched.

And that brings us back to Apollo. Because at its heart, The Friend isn’t just about Iris or Walter. It’s about the spaces in between, the quiet companionship of something (or someone) who doesn’t ask for explanations, who doesn’t demand that you be okay. It’s about the way love, in all its forms, finds us—even when we think we don’t have room for it.

By the time we reach the film’s final moments, when Iris has to make an impossible decision, we realize something: this was never really a movie about a woman taking in a dog. It was about two lonely souls finding their way back to the world, together. And when Apollo curls up next to her one last time, it’s impossible not to feel the weight of it all—the heartbreak, the healing, the profound, ridiculous joy of loving something, even when you know it won’t last forever. Because love never really leaves. It just changes shape. And sometimes, if you’re lucky, it has four paws and the saddest, sweetest eyes you’ve ever seen.

The Friend is currently playing in select theaters courtesy of Bleecker Street. The film will expand nationwide on April 4, 2025.