Terms & Conditions Apply: Companion Makes the “Perfect Girlfriend” a Killer App

Drew Hancock’s brisk, blood‑slick tech‑horror cracks open “love as product,” with Sophie Thatcher’s star‑making turn—and one unforgettable kitchen gadget.

January is supposed to be where movies go to hibernate, thaw out, and hope nobody notices the icicles. Then along saunters Companion, New Line’s low‑budget, high‑ingenuity sci‑fi/horror cocktail, and suddenly the year has a pulse. Written and directed by Drew Hancock (in his feature debut) and powered by a gleefully nasty lead performance from Sophie Thatcher, Companion arrives with the mischievous energy of a film that knows exactly the buttons it’s pushing: tech anxiety, rom‑com tropes, and the patriarchal fantasy of a partner who can be… upgraded. The setup is simple; the implications are anything but.

What’s the premise—spoiler‑light, promise

Hancock begins with something familiar: a weekend at a luxurious lake house, an insecure girlfriend (Thatcher’s Iris) meeting her boyfriend Josh’s clique, and social dynamics that curdle as smoothly as a bad Bordelaise. Then the movie plays its killer card—the one Warner Bros.’ marketing opted to reveal—Iris is an android “companion,” controllable by smartphone, and Josh (a disarmingly smarmy Jack Quaid) is less boyfriend than owner. From there, betrayals multiply, loyalties snap, and the blood budget gets a workout. The twist is trailer‑level public; the pleasure is watching how the film weaponizes it.

Hancock and his producers (including Zach Cregger of Barbarian fame) steer the picture toward a wittily cruel thesis: if romance is a product, what happens when the product reads the fine print? The tone tilts between table‑setting satire and splattery farce, with an occasional shock that lands like a punchline. It’s not trying to be a white‑paper on AI ethics; it’s out to entertain—often with a grin—and it does.

The vibe: “Black Mirror” meets breakup thriller, with better jokes

Plenty of critics spotted the DNA. /Film hailed it as “the first great film of 2025,” praising the speed and craft; The Guardian published two takes—one charmed by the grisly fun, another dismissing it as “empty sci‑fi” that short‑circuits early. That split tracks with the movie’s design: it’s less a capital‑S Serious Statement than a 97‑minute genre machine that sprints, slips, and sprints again. Even detractors concede the polish. And when it clicks, it’s a blast.

For viewers who prefer a consensus score before diving in: as of this writing, Companion sits Certified Fresh on Rotten Tomatoes, with a 90‑plus Tomatometer and a consensus calling it a “fiendishly clever contraption” that doesn’t coast on its twists. That’s a rare badge for a January wide release.

Sophie Thatcher, booting up into stardom

Thatcher’s turn as Iris is the movie’s core upgrade. She plays “programmable perfection” with slivers of latency—smiles that hold a millisecond too long, a gaze that’s trying to solve for x even as she hums along to Josh’s script. When the software starts to write itself, Thatcher charts each notch of self‑possession without lapsing into the porcelain blankness that has sunk lesser AI heroines. The performance is both empathetic and unnerving, like watching a child learn in fast‑forward with access to a combat knife. (One quick, background escape gag is funnier than most studio comedies manage all year.) Even The A.V. Club’s tepid review singles her out as the standout.

Jack Quaid weaponizes his likability into a specific strain of modern villainy: the avuncular control freak who sees himself as the protagonist of life and love. In interviews tied to the finale, he joked he’ll never look at an automatic wine opener the same way again; that’s as good a non‑spoilery summation of Hancock’s comic sadism as any.

Lukas Gage, Megan Suri, Harvey Guillén, and Rupert Friend fill out the friend‑group with textures that matter—part Greek chorus, part accessory to catastrophe. The house itself helps: a Hudson Valley compound with oligarch vibes, shot in Garrison, New York to read as lavish, isolated, and morally disinfected. It’s production value you can feel in the bones (and tiles).

How it’s built: smooth cinematography, cutting edit, needle‑sharp sound

On the craft side, the movie’s economy is its strength. It’s 97 minutes, rated R, and moves with the clean, rectangular logic of an app—new window, new rule, new disaster. (That runtime and rating aren’t just trivia; they’re manifestos.)

The score by Hrishikesh Hirway—yes, of Song Exploder—is a stealth MVP. WaterTower Music released the soundtrack a week before opening, including “Iris’s Theme” with Thatcher’s own vocals. It’s not a wall‑to‑wall soundscape, more like a pressure‑sensor: a minimalist shiver when the mask slips, a bolder thrum when the code asserts itself. The album track list even cheekily mirrors plot beats (“Smile, Act Happy,” “Reprogramming,” “100% Intelligence”), a neat bonus for fans who like their scores to talk back.

Visually, Hancock favors bright, Barbie‑adjacent color pops over grunge. The Financial Times clocked the pink‑tinted title flourish and the candy palette; the contrast between cheery surfaces and ugly motives is part of the joke. It’s the visual grammar of a brand launch applied to a hostage situation.

Romance, consent, and the fine print of “love as product”

Yes, we’ve seen “she’s not what she seems” AI tales (Ex Machina, Her, M3GAN, and the recent Subservience). What makes Companion feel fresh isn’t novelty of premise but precision of metaphor. Iris isn’t a Skynet prequel—she’s the literalization of a certain male fantasy: a partner who mirrors, placates, resets. When Iris begins editing her own settings, the movie becomes a jet‑black breakup comedy about a woman reclaiming agency from a man who insisted the “skip intro” button was for her benefit. (Even The Guardian’s less enthusiastic review admits the film hits domineering boyfriends and “entitled man‑babies” with uncommon accuracy.)

Do the ideas go as deep as they could? Sometimes no. A.V. Club argues the film’s kinkier implications have been sanded down by studio caution, and there are moments where a sharper provocation might have elevated a clever setup into a minor classic. But Companion also understands pace, laughter, and architecture—how to build a room that makes a choice feel inevitable and a scream feel earned. That counts.

Set pieces & sick jokes (still spoiler‑light)

Hancock has a gift for one‑image storytelling: a blood‑streaked dress treated like a costume continuity challenge; a phone screen whose UX is as baldly sinister as any knife; a mundane kitchen tool recast as a Chekhovian gag. The “automatic wine opener” flourish—teased in press—tells you exactly where this movie lives: the crossroads of nastiness and punchline. It’s not just that bad men will weaponize technology; it’s that everyday technology has been quietly designed to make the weaponization feel polite.

The “Barbarian” bump, without the basement

It’s fair to call this a “from the team behind Barbarian” joint—the producers include BoulderLight Pictures, Vertigo Entertainment’s Roy Lee, and Zach Cregger—but Companion isn’t playing the same game. Cregger’s film was a labyrinth; Hancock’s is a trapdoor. He’s less concerned with pulling rugs than with pushing an idea to its logical extreme and then seeing which character still wants to stand on it. That clarity suits a January genre provocateur: fewer detours, more velocity.

Dollars, dates, and where to watch

On a reported $10 million budget, Companion grossed about $36.8 million worldwide—the kind of 3.5x multiplier that keeps original studio thrillers alive. It opened January 31 domestically, hit digital in mid‑February, landed on disc by April, and is now streaming on Max (with rentals still available on the usual suspects). For a movie this twisty, easy rewatch access is a gift; noticing how early Hancock “teaches” you the rules is half the fun.

The nitpicks (because even good code has bugs)

A few beats play like an argument the film already won—especially when it re‑explains Josh’s motivations (we got it; he’s the kind of guy who would crowdsource his meet‑cute). And there are logical wobbles inherent to any “rules‑driven” sci‑fi: the app is as potent or impotent as the scene requires. If those things break the spell for you, they’ll break it here too. But the movie’s speed and tone—smirking, savage, sincerely empathetic toward Iris—patch over the seams.

Final analysis: Highly recommended

Is Companion a genre milestone? Probably not. It is, however, a ruthlessly enjoyable, shrewdly designed crowd‑pleaser with a star performance you’ll be seeing GIF’d for years. In a cinematic marketplace that often claims audiences don’t show up for original, mid‑budget thrills, this one showed up—on screens and in conversation. Consider it a firm swipe right.

Credits & Specs (for the curious)

• Director/Writer: Drew Hancock. Cast: Sophie Thatcher, Jack Quaid, Lukas Gage, Megan Suri, Harvey Guillén, Rupert Friend. Producers: Zach Cregger, Roy Lee, J.D. Lifshitz, Raphael Margules. Runtime: 97 minutes. Rating: R. Distributor: Warner Bros. Pictures / New Line. Score: Hrishikesh Hirway (Song Exploder). Filming location: chiefly Garrison, NY (Hudson Valley).

If you liked…

• Ex Machina but wished it had a meaner sense of humor.
• Ready or Not and Barbarian for their “house as pressure cooker” thrills.
• Black Mirror episodes that ask uncomfortable questions, then answer with a joke and a scream.

Why it fits “Hidden Gems & Limelight”

It’s a studio release with a cult‑classic temperament: small‑ish, sharp, and conversation‑friendly, with enough mainstream sheen to lure the uninitiated. It’s also precisely the sort of movie that benefits from a second wave—first the Friday crowd, then the “you have to see this” streamer discovery. And now that it’s one click away, your couch has no excuse.

Alternate takeaways from other reviewers (quick tour)

• “First great film of 2025” (/Film), praising the clockwork plotting and Thatcher’s work.
• “Bracingly grisly romp… presses the button marked fun” (Observer/Guardian), noting the luxe backdrop and body count.
• “Short‑circuits too quickly” (Guardian), pointing to shallow commentary but sleek execution. You decide where you land; that disagreement is part of the sport.

Verdict

Four out of five “Go to sleep” commands—declined.