Companion (2025) Review

Cinema can be used to reflect our collective anxieties, and in Companion, writer-director Drew Hancock zeroes in on one of our most persistent modern fears: the encroachment of artificial intelligence into the deeply human realm of intimacy.

At once a darkly comic sci-fi thriller and a razor-sharp satire on misogyny in the digital age, Companion takes well-worn genre tropes and injects them with a pulpy, anarchic energy. But while it boasts a game cast, a thrillingly unhinged lead performance from Sophie Thatcher, and some wickedly effective tonal shifts, the film ultimately struggles to distinguish itself from the weighty lineage of AI-fixated thrillers that precede it.

Thatcher plays Iris, a seemingly ideal girlfriend, meticulously dressed in 1950s technicolor housewife garb as she wanders through an eerily vacant supermarket in the film’s opening moments. This Stepford Wives-esque introduction sets the stage for the film’s biting critique of patriarchal fantasy—because, as it turns out, Iris isn’t just playing the part. She is, quite literally, programmed for it. She is the robotic “companion” of Josh (Jack Quaid), a simpering tech bro whose ability to shape and update her personality via an app gives him full control over her existence. In a particularly insidious touch, even her eye color is subject to his whims.

Josh, eager to show off his picture-perfect partner, takes Iris on a weekend getaway to a lavish lakeside retreat owned by his wealthy, enigmatic friend Sergey (Rupert Friend). They are joined by an eclectic mix of characters: Josh’s acerbic best friend Kat (Megan Suri), affable chef Patrick (Lukas Gage), and his partner Eli (Harvey Guillén). But the leisurely escape quickly spirals into something more sinister when Sergey winds up dead, Iris starts to question her own existence, and the group dynamic turns from awkward to outright menacing.

As the narrative takes a series of frenetic twists, Companion transforms into an exhilarating game of cat and mouse, with Iris discovering that she is both more and less than what she was designed to be. This is where the film finds its greatest strengths—when Hancock leans into the jet-black humor of Iris’s existential awakening. Thatcher is superb, embodying the contradictions of a character who exists in a liminal space between human and machine. At times, her movements are slightly off-kilter, almost marionette-like, as though she’s still learning how to control her own body. Yet, there are also moments of uncanny grace—her physicality shifting fluidly between awkward innocence and razor-sharp precision. It’s a performance that is both eerily detached and profoundly affecting.

Hancock’s script is peppered with biting humor, taking jabs at everything from fragile male egos to the insidious commodification of women through technology. The film lands some brilliantly pointed critiques at the kind of men who see AI companions as a solution to the “problems” of real women, stripping away autonomy in favor of an illusion of control. It also engages in a playful tug-of-war with genre expectations—what starts as a tech thriller morphs into something closer to Ex Machina meets The Evil Dead, complete with bursts of over-the-top gore that feel more Sam Raimi than Alex Garland.

However, while the film is consistently engaging, it doesn’t entirely escape the weight of its influences. The AI-turned-rebel narrative is hardly novel, and Companion wears its inspirations a little too openly at times. It owes clear debts to Blade Runner, The Stepford Wives, Her, and Ex Machina, and while it has fun remixing these ideas, it never quite transcends them. There’s also an underlying tension in its messaging—on the one hand, it wants to be a searing indictment of how technology is used to oppress women, but on the other, it flirts uncomfortably with the idea that AI might be a genuine victim worthy of human empathy.

That said, Hancock directs with confidence, and he knows how to keep an audience on edge. The pacing is brisk, the tonal shifts—while at times jarring—are generally effective, and the bursts of ultraviolence are gleefully over-the-top. There is an especially wince-inducing sequence involving an open hand and a candle that lingers just a little too long, and a sudden roadside obliteration that feels almost cartoonishly excessive. These moments add to the film’s darkly comedic flavor, ensuring that Companion never takes itself too seriously.

The cast all deliver strong performances, with Quaid particularly impressive as the insufferably entitled Josh. Guillén and Gage share one of the film’s most unexpectedly tender moments, injecting a brief but poignant note of genuine human connection into the chaos. Friend is delightfully smarmy as Sergey, and Suri is wonderfully sharp as the only person in the group who immediately distrusts Iris.

Companion is, in many ways, a film about ownership—who gets to define identity, who controls the narrative, and what happens when autonomy is wrested back from those who seek to dominate. It’s a film that revels in its genre trappings, fully aware of its place in the lineage of sci-fi thrillers that have explored these ideas before. And while it doesn’t necessarily reinvent the wheel, it does spin it fast enough to keep the audience entertained.

It’s a fun, clever, and occasionally brilliant genre piece, bolstered by a powerhouse performance from Sophie Thatcher and a script that delights in poking holes in tech bro fantasies. It may not be the most original take on the AI panic, but it’s certainly one of the most darkly enjoyable. Whether or not it makes you fear our impending robotic overlords, Companion is worth the ride.

Movie Rating:

Companion trailer