All My Friends Hate Me Review

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Charity worker Pete (Stourton) heads to a country house for birthday celebrations with old uni pals, but something feels off — he’s the butt of their jokes, and a stranger they bring along seems to have it in for him. Are they even his friends at all

Ever been at a party and got the feeling that nobody wants you there? Reflected on a past conversation and realised you came across as a bit of an arsehole? Looked at the people around you and wondered why you hang out with them? Then, boy, is All My Friends Hate Me the film for you.

This is the cinematic embodiment of social anxiety. After a hilariously placed, horror-film-style title card, a long drive and several strange run-ins with locals, self-identifying nice guy Pete (Tom Stourton, also on co-writing and producing duty) arrives at a big house in the country for birthday shenanigans with a group of uni pals he hasn’t seen in years. There’s George (Joshua McGuire), whose father owns the mansion they’re in; his wife Fig (Georgina Campbell); posh party boy Archie (Graham Dickson); old flame Claire (Antonia Clarke); and Harry (Dustin Demri-Burns), a complete stranger the gang brought back from the pub who instantly makes Pete feel uncomfortable.

All My Friends Hate Me

As the weekend ticks on, Pete has an increasingly terrible time. The gang poke fun at him, shoot down his stories, put him in awkward situations and blame him for not enjoying them, and tensions from political and class differences arise. The genius of Stourton and co-writer Tom Palmer’s script is that with each excruciating thing Pete experiences, you’re just as unsure as he is whether he or his friends are the bad guys. For every instance where they seem mean or standoffish, Pete drones on incessantly about his worthy work at a refugee camp, and you start to think that maybe they do hate him, actually, because so do you, just a little.

Stourton is the standout, perfectly blending the restlessness of anxiety with laddish showiness and a kind of enlightened elitism.

Predominantly a comedy, the humour comes thick and fast, but elements of horror, drama and suspense are expertly scattered throughout, delivered with maximum impact. The supporting ensemble is strong, each unbearable and sympathetic in their own way despite being rather thinly drawn — and Charly Clive really changes the game as Pete’s girlfriend Sonia when she makes it to the party late on, creating a sense of safety for Pete whilst remaining suitably unreadable. But Stourton is the standout, perfectly blending the restlessness of anxiety with laddish showiness and a kind of enlightened elitism, all whilst being completely compelling as the vessel for the audience’s unease.

As well as impeccably capturing how awful it would be to feel like an outcast at your own birthday party, All My Friends Hate Me taps into bigger themes about how tricky it is to maintain relationships as you get older: feeling you’ve outgrown your friendships, trying and failing to recapture the good old days, reconciling who you were in your youth with who you are now. Impressively lean in its storytelling, it manages to wrap thoroughly relatable millennial neuroticism, laugh-out-loud awkwardness and a unique character study into a slick, brilliantly British, genre-infused package.

Combining comedy, cringe and creepiness, All My Friends Hate Me is a short, snappy and seriously entertaining spiral into peer-related paranoia.

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