There’s a million ways to start a story, but the common goal is to hook an audience on the premise. Companion, director Drew Hancock’s stylish thriller, is mostly successful in that department. The film opens on a meet-cute, exaggerated for effect as Jack Quaid and Sophie Thatcher channel performances that highlight the inoffensive silliness of some romantic comedies; if anything, I’ll never look at people “testing” fruit in the grocery store the same way again. Yet, the opening also aims for a last-second hook, even as we’ve already bought into this world, that seems to upend some of the film’s tension. Not because we instantly know where everything is headed after this line, but once Companion does start to reveal the true nature of its plot, we can piece together the film’s final destination.
This is the dilemma of a film that doesn’t want to reveal its cards early. Hint at nothing, and your eventual plot reveals just seem nonsensical and random to an audience. But foreshadow too much, and some viewers can start to see the game plan. Companion plays a risky gamble in this vein but still succeeds off the backs of a stellar cast, strong ideas, a brisk pace, and a litany of visceral imagery. Thatcher plays Iris, who’s head over heels for Josh, an ‘aw shucks’ happy-go-lucky fella who Iris believes is the person she’s been waiting for. But she doesn’t hit it off as well with his friends, most notably Kat (Megan Suri), who is somewhat hinted to have sort of a weird relationship with Josh. These underlying issues threaten to be brought to the surface when Josh takes Iris for a getaway with all of those friends at a remote manor.
The film takes a close look at a variety of relationships on the spectrum of friendship and romance. These dynamics devolve into mediations about power, control, disloyalty, and autonomy. I wouldn’t say the movie re-invents the wheel on these topics, especially within its genre. Companion exists not necessarily as a groundbreaking achievement but rather a complimentary piece to the many genre benders that tackle the complex dynamics within friend groups, as well as straight and queer coupling. Much of the analysis within the Iris-Josh pairing is duplicated and contrasted in the relationship between Patrick (Lukas Gage) and his boyfriend Eli (Harvey Guillén), featuring many similarities but also key differences.
Perhaps Hancock is making note of the different avenues romance can take, suggesting that one can look to both traditional and progressive dynamics alike for how and how not to behave. It also illustrates how these power imbalances can affect you regardless of gender, thus painting the protagonist’s dilemma as a universal warning to audiences, whether you are the perpetrator or the afflicted. If this all sounds vague, it’s because Companion’s plot progression depends on key reveals that would be spoilerific to talk about in detail. What can be described is the mood the film fosters for its characters, vacillating between obscene humor with a tongue-in-cheek affect combined with dark subject matter. The performances themselves don’t even seem to be aiming for a naturalistic approach, instead taking on a larger than life, exaggerated approach to fit the pulpy material.
Thatcher’s performance, for example, is very animated, including a seemingly over the top and theatrical vocal style, as if she’s starring in a Broadway play. At first glance, this seems like a risky choice that could potentially even be considered out of place for the film’s somewhat grounded world. However, as we learn more about this character, this vocal choice seems less like a quirk of the actor specifically and more like a deliberate choice that fits the direction and mystery of the screenplay. Whether that’s true is never confirmed, but it seems like such an obvious reality of the film’s creative direction that it might as well be considered canon.
It’s Thatcher’s performance, entrusted to carry much of the film, that will likely have the biggest post-release impact from a Hollywood perspective. Still growing as a performer, she made similar waves in last year’s Heretic, and here she adds more evidence to her portfolio of a screen presence that is vividly expressive, charming, and energetic. She can morph easily from helpless maiden to vindictively intense or uniquely resourceful – such as forcing herself to speak an entirely different language on the spot with convincing grace. It’s a performance that turns what could potentially be a familiar, formulaic yarn into a memorable thriller.
However, Companion remains imperfect even as it thrives for cinematic reinvention. The film’s plot devices are clever, yet its themes are well-worn, and thus, the movie sometimes struggles to arrive on new ground within the various topics the plot traverses. To make nothing of the several idiotic choices the antagonist makes, set up as inevitable decisions, otherwise we “wouldn’t have a movie.” To which I’d say – then write a better version of that movie.
Still, even if it’s a bit familiar, the story beats are well-told. Hancock makes a simple story about love, in direct contrast with an exaggerated but still pertinent example of control. The film argues that without freewill and autonomy, true love can not exist – whatever imitation of love to be found is simply coerced. It may not be revolutionary dialogue, but it’s a call to action in the face of a persistent reality. Which speaks to the film title’s dual meaning, as well as those polished physical traits of the protagonist, alluding to an idealistic vision of a significant other that’s often too good to be true, too close to artificial to come across as realistic or believable. But that unbelievability is the point, hinting at the selfish wickedness needed to influence such an oppressive vision of the one you “love.”
