Comedic Cinema of Paranoia in ‘All My Friends Hate Me’ — Review
‘All My Friends Hate Me’ is the questionable, though entertaining underdog plucked from 2022’s realm of indie film.
Writing & comedy duo Tom Palmer and Tom Stourton’s 2022 English arthouse comedy-drama All My Friends Hate Me was a theatrical endeavour that delivered subjective genres and was met with mixed responses. However, we can view cinema through an abstract lens to broaden our perspectives and celebrate filmmakers’ artistry. Telling the tale of a group of friends at a birthday bash in the English countryside, there is a strong and playful study of character conveyed amusingly. Interweaving horror and drama to showcase a variety of perspectives and convey themes is not only a clever take on storytelling but also communicates moral messages to its audience. As far as black British comedy goes, All My Friends Hate Me is the questionable, though entertaining underdog plucked from 2022’s realm of indie film.
Though you could stumble out from the cinema wondering what it was all about, you can conclusively decide upon AMFHM (All My Friends Hate Me) being a theatrical, understated character study. Focusing on Pete (Tom Stourton, who also co-wrote the screenplay), we are introduced to him as he drives to his long-lost university friends’ upper-class estate in the English countryside. A seemingly celebratory weekend has been organised by Pete’s friends in honour of his birthday, though the group spends more time encountering an array of uncomfortable moments, rather than any planned fun. The somewhat chauvinist-Brit gang begins to poke and prod at their mate with no explanation, gaslighting him (‘Cheer up mate, it’s not loaded!’ says Archie, ‘jokingly’ pointing a gun straight at Pete) attesting to the level of school bullies. Noting both the near-decade they have spent away from each other, as well as the separation in their class, Pete faces many external and internal conflicts, all eventuating in a self-reflective meltdown.
Referencing BFI’s Sight & Sound Magazine critic, Mark Kermode, he sums up its brand well, calling it a ‘homegrown oddity’. Though, however much it succeeds on the front of originality, the unorthodox blurring of genres and audience reaction had it at times trip and stumble upon its release. Though it rests as a comedy, the odd and irregular addition of thriller elements and cinematic dramatics confuse more than they strengthen the story. And whilst British black comedy is a notable style of film, we don’t always think of it as attempting to appeal to the masses like AMFHM can be said to attempt to. Rotten Tomatoes gave it a praiseworthy 89% on its ‘Tomato Metre’, though the audience reaction fell in at 62%. It can be said that within the stylistic choices and strange scriptwriting (and plot points (Pete’s mysterious university foe, Harry, enters the stage with an eerie soundtrack to accompany and he acts as an unexplained villain), it does stand by that 89% on a basis of originality.
The beauty of this film is that we are presented with clever contrasts between the quaint English countryside and the sterile, somewhat close-minded assumptions of the upper class. The Independent coins it as a ‘posh-boys satire’, and Pete can be said to serve as a reflection of the perspectives and swiping at class systems in the divisive UK. His paranoia and judgement towards his mates lead him to question and distaste whom he surrounds himself with, as decades on, he finds that he is different from them. These are feelings that we as an audience know of, as we may find ourselves an insecure outsider amongst friends, yet Pete’s problems lie in his sensitive perspectives.
He makes it all the more worse for himself by establishing himself as having a moral hierarchy, continuously mentioning his soul-bearing work at refugee camps, in comparison to his friends who have nonetheless grown. We are given very open options and suggestions to either relate to or detest Pete, as we begin to see that he is stranger than his counterparts.
This film is the cinema of paranoia, and analysing one man’s feelings in a setting of friends who surely have their differences. As Sartre put it — ‘L’enfer, c’est les autres’ (‘Hell is other people’). Though, this is more so Pete’s view. The fear we have amongst our differences shows Pete’s delusions and judgement of others that were once there for him reflecting upon how he sees himself through a moral hierarchy. The curtain close features Pete joined with his new girlfriend, Sonia, whom he’d reluctantly introduced to the gang, sitting in the manor’s darkened drawing room, adorned with whiskey and taxidermy deer heads. Any moral predicament previously had has led up to this, as Pete melts into a breakdown in response to the abuse hurled at him. Observing the aggressors has him acting as the aggressor, as the elicit delusions have him spiral into a meltdown.
Palmer and Stourton deliver what we can say is either a great character study or foolish comedy. We are all individuals, and whilst privileged conservatives aren’t great company, is that the extent of these characters? We are taken on a literal wild goose chase, and while all his friends may or may not hate him, we see how insecurity and indulgence corrupt. We really can be limited by our judgements, fears, or outlooks on life, as seen in All My Friends Hate Me.
