Neil LaBute has a way of making you feel like you need a shower after watching his work. Honestly, if you’ve ever sat through Friends and Neighbors, you know exactly what I’m talking about. It’s not "Friends." It’s definitely not "Neighbors" (the Seth Rogen one or the Aussie soap). Released in 1998, this movie is a brutal, claustrophobic, and deeply cynical autopsy of human relationships that makes most modern "edgy" dramas look like Saturday morning cartoons.
People still talk about it because it hits a raw nerve.
It’s about six people. Three men, three women. They’re all interconnected, mostly through infidelity, deep-seated insecurity, or just a general inability to be decent human beings. When we look back at the landscape of 90s indie cinema, this film stands out because it didn't care about being liked. It cared about being true to the worst parts of us.
What Friends and Neighbors Was Actually Trying to Say
The 1990s were weirdly obsessed with the "suburban malaise" trope. You had American Beauty, Happiness, and The Ice Storm. But Friends and Neighbors felt different. It was theatrical. It felt like a play because, well, LaBute is a playwright at heart. The dialogue is snappy but cruel.
Most people think the movie is just about sex. It’s not.
Sex is just the weapon these characters use to hurt each other or to feel something other than total boredom. You have Ben Stiller, who most people knew as the funny guy from There's Something About Mary, playing Jerry. Jerry is a theater instructor who cannot stop talking. He talks his way into affairs and talks his way out of guilt. It’s a performance that proves Stiller has a much darker range than he usually gets credit for.
Then there's Jason Patric’s character, Cary. If you want to see a masterclass in playing a sociopath who doesn't realize he's a sociopath, that's it. His monologue about a specific encounter in a steam room is legendary in film school circles for being both technically brilliant and utterly repulsive. It’s a moment where the audience realizes that these aren't just "flawed" people. They are, in many ways, broken.
The Power Dynamics of "Nice" People
We like to think we're the heroes of our own stories. Jerry thinks he’s a good guy. Terri (played by Catherine Keener) thinks she’s the victim. But in the world of Friends and Neighbors, everyone is a perpetrator.
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The movie thrives on the discomfort of silence and the over-explanation of feelings. You’ve probably been in a relationship where someone used "honestly" as a prefix for something devastating. That’s this entire movie. It’s a 100-minute exercise in how language is used to manipulate rather than connect.
- Jerry (Ben Stiller): The intellectual who uses words as a shield.
- Cary (Jason Patric): The predator who doesn't even bother with the shield.
- Mary (Amy Brenneman): The woman caught in the middle of a collapsing marriage.
- Barry (Aaron Eckhart): The man struggling with his own physical and emotional inadequacies.
- Terri (Catherine Keener): The cynical observer who eventually gets dragged into the mud.
- Cheri (Nastassja Kinski): The outsider who realizes far too late how toxic this group is.
The Controversy and the Critical Reception
When it hit theaters, critics didn't really know what to do with it. Roger Ebert gave it three stars, noting that it was "an anatomy of the kind of people who give 'relationships' a bad name." He was right. It’s a movie that demands you look at the screen while everyone on it is doing something shameful.
Some people hated it. They called it misogynistic. They called it misanthropic. But if you look closer, the men are treated just as harshly, if not more so, than the women. LaBute isn't picking sides; he’s just pointing out that when we lose our moral compass, we all end up in the same ditch.
The film's structure is almost mathematical. It’s symmetrical in a way that feels intentional and cold. Scene A leads to Scene B, showing how a lie told in one bedroom ripples out to destroy a life in another apartment across town. It’s tight. It’s efficient. It’s mean.
Why It Still Ranks in the "Feel Bad" Canon
There’s a reason Friends and Neighbors is often compared to Todd Solondz’s Happiness. Both films came out in 1998. Both films dared to look at the dark underbelly of the middle class. But where Solondz uses a sort of surrealist cringe, LaBute uses stark realism.
There is no music in the film. None.
Think about that for a second. Most movies use a score to tell you how to feel. A swelling violin tells you to be sad; a fast beat tells you to be excited. By stripping away the music, LaBute forces you to sit with the dialogue. You hear every breath, every awkward pause, and every cruel laugh. It makes the experience incredibly intimate and deeply uncomfortable. It’s like eavesdropping on a conversation you know you shouldn't be hearing.
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Breaking Down the Performances
Aaron Eckhart is unrecognizable here if you only know him as Harvey Dent. He gained weight for the role of Barry, and he plays the character with a pathetic, whimpering sort of energy that is genuinely hard to watch. His "big scene" regarding his sexual frustrations is one of the most awkward moments in 90s cinema.
Catherine Keener, as usual, is the anchor. She has this way of looking at other characters with a mix of pity and disgust that makes her the audience surrogate. When she’s on screen, you feel like someone finally sees these people for who they really are.
What Modern Viewers Get Wrong
In the era of social media, we’re used to "performative" goodness. We see people's best lives on Instagram. Friends and Neighbors is the antithesis of that. It’s the "Finsta" of movies.
A common misconception is that the film is a comedy. It’s marketed as a "black comedy," but the laughs are few and far between. When you do laugh, it’s usually out of shock or a "did he really just say that?" kind of disbelief. It’s a comedy in the way a car crash in slow motion might be considered "interesting."
If you’re going into this expecting a lighthearted romp about buddies in the city, you’re going to have a bad time. But if you want a film that explores the limits of honesty and the depths of human selfishness, it’s a masterpiece.
The Legacy of Neil LaBute
This film cemented LaBute as a provocateur. He followed it up with films like The Shape of Things, which continued his exploration of how people manipulate one another. While his later work (like the Wicker Man remake) went off the rails a bit, his early trilogy of "cruelty"—In the Company of Men, Friends and Neighbors, and The Shape of Things—remains a vital part of American independent film history.
They don't really make movies like this anymore. Everything now has to have a "message" or a "redemption arc." Friends and Neighbors offers neither. It just offers a mirror. And for many people, what they see in that mirror is a little too close for comfort.
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How to Approach the Film Today
If you’re planning on watching it for the first time, or maybe revisiting it after two decades, keep a few things in mind.
First, look at the blocking. Notice how often characters are physically separated by walls, doors, or furniture even when they’re in the same room. It’s visual storytelling at its most basic and effective.
Second, pay attention to the repetition. Characters often repeat the same phrases or stories to different people. It shows how they’ve refined their "act." They aren't talking to people; they’re performing for them.
Finally, consider the ending. It’s not a spoiler to say that things don't wrap up with a neat little bow. There’s no big lesson learned. The characters just... continue. They move on to the next lie, the next affair, the next betrayal. That’s the real horror of the film.
Practical Steps for Diving Deeper into 90s Nihilism:
- Watch the "Trilogy of Cruelty": Start with In the Company of Men, move to Friends and Neighbors, and finish with The Shape of Things. It’s a grueling marathon but provides a complete picture of LaBute’s thematic concerns.
- Compare with Mike Nichols: Watch Closer (2004) immediately after. It’s interesting to see how a more "polished" Hollywood version handles similar themes of infidelity and verbal warfare.
- Read the Screenplay: Because the film relies so heavily on dialogue, reading the script is like reading a play. You can see the rhythm of the speech patterns—the "ums," "ahs," and interruptions—that make the characters feel so frustratingly human.
- Check the Commentary: If you can find the DVD version, the commentary tracks are actually quite insightful regarding how they filmed such intense scenes on a shoestring budget in a limited number of locations.
The film is a tough watch, no doubt. But in a world of filtered realities and scripted positivity, there’s something refreshing about a movie that is willing to be this ugly. It reminds us that being a "friend" or a "neighbor" requires more than just proximity; it requires a level of integrity that many people simply aren't willing to maintain when things get difficult.