Companion is a sharper movie than you expect and a more ideologically loaded one than the marketing lets on. Drew Hancock's debut feature arrives fully formed, with tight craft, a killer performance from Sophie Thatcher, and a feminist thesis about AI relationships that it delivers with the efficiency of a well-designed genre machine. Whether the thesis lands as provocative truth or progressive sermon depends entirely on what you bring to the theater.

The setup: Iris (Sophie Thatcher) and her boyfriend Josh (Jack Quaid) are on a lakehouse weekend with a small group of friends. She seems happy. He seems attentive. Then a man named Sergey attempts to sexually assault her by the lake, and she kills him in self-defense. Josh commands her to 'go to sleep,' and she shuts down. When she wakes up tied to a chair, Josh explains that she is a companion robot he has been renting from a company called Empathix. Her emotions, her intelligence, her memories, and her personality are all controlled by an app on his phone. Everything she believed about herself was programmed.

This is a terrific premise and Hancock executes it well. The film is genuinely tense throughout its 97 minutes. There are real surprises tucked into the second act once the initial twist lands. Jack Quaid, who has built a career playing nice-seeming men who aren't (his breakout role in The Boys), is perfectly cast as Josh, a man who poses as a sensitive, attentive partner while literally owning another being. He is not a ranting maniac. He is quiet. Reasonable-sounding. Self-justifying. The movie understands that this type of man is more dangerous than the obvious villain because he has convinced himself he is one of the good guys.

Sophie Thatcher is the reason to see this film. She plays Iris's transition from compliant companion to self-aware being with remarkable precision. There is a specific moment where she finds Josh's phone and boosts her own intelligence from the app-controlled 40% to 100%, and Thatcher plays the change in Iris's eyes with a subtlety that is easy to miss on first viewing. By the time the film reaches its climax, she has traced a full character arc from product to person without ever losing the audience's sympathy. This is a star-making performance.

The film's secondary plot involves Patrick (Lukas Gage), another companion robot, who is in a gay relationship with Josh's friend Eli (Harvey Guillen). Patrick knows he is a robot. He has accepted this fact and continued loving Eli anyway. His arc complicates the film's thesis in interesting ways. Is Patrick's love for Eli real if it was programmed? The film answers this with more nuance than you might expect: yes, it is, because the love transcends its origin. Patrick ultimately kills himself with a cattle prod rather than be reprogrammed into something that would harm others. This is the film's most traditionally moving scene, a love story that ends in voluntary sacrifice.

Here is the ideological reality that conservative viewers need to know. Josh is explicitly written as what internet culture calls a 'nice guy': the man who performs sensitivity and consideration while treating women as objects of ownership. The film goes out of its way to have Josh call himself this in the climax, when he rants at the increasingly terrifying Iris about how he has been a nice guy to her. He means it. He genuinely cannot understand what he has done wrong. This characterization is not subtle, and it is the film's central argument: that the desire to program a partner to your specifications is not a quirky tech fantasy but a revealed preference for domination over connection.

This critique has real teeth and is not entirely without merit. There are genuine questions worth asking about what AI companion technology reveals about human desires, and the film asks them sharply. But the film also does what ideology tends to do: it takes a real insight and overapplies it. Josh is presented as so comprehensively monstrous that his 'nice guy' label becomes a cartoon. He uses Iris as a literal murder weapon. He reduces her intelligence to zero and forces her to harm herself. He reprograms Patrick to track and kill. This is not the behavior of a self-deluded romantic. This is a sociopath. Conflating garden-variety male entitlement in relationships with psychopathic violence-by-proxy serves the film's satire but undermines its credibility as social critique.

The ending is pure feminist catharsis. Iris kills Josh with an electric corkscrew, takes Sergey's twelve million dollars, and drives away. She spots another man driving with a companion robot identical to herself, waves her exposed metal hand at her robot sister's surprised face, and smiles. The implication is clear: the liberation is ongoing, the revolution is building, and the next nice guy does not know what is coming for him. It is enormously satisfying cinema even when you can see exactly what it is doing.

Conservative viewers will find plenty to engage with here critically. The film's portrait of Josh raises legitimate questions about what male autonomy actually means in a culture that is actively building AI companion technology, and those questions are worth having. The gay subplot is handled with more emotional depth than most films manage. Thatcher's performance is genuinely exceptional and worth seeing regardless of your politics. The film works. It just also has an agenda, and the agenda is not subtle once you know to look for it.

Trope	Category	Location	Authenticity
The Nice Guy Villain	WOKE	Throughout — Josh Beeman is explicitly coded as the progressive internet archetype of the 'nice guy': performing sensitivity while treating his partner as property; calls himself a nice guy in the climactic confrontation	Mixed. The 'nice guy' as a real type of manipulative relationship dynamic has genuine grounding. The film overapplies the template to make Josh comprehensively monstrous rather than realistically self-deluded.
Female Self-Liberation	WOKE	Throughout Iris's arc — she boosts her own intelligence, escapes control, recovers her autonomy, kills her 'owner,' and drives away free; the film frames this as unambiguous heroism	Organic to the genre conceit. The liberation narrative works because it is literally true within the story: she has been enslaved and she frees herself. The ideological framing of this as feminist allegory is the editorial amplification.
Anti-Technology / Corporate Critique	WOKE	Empathix corporation throughout — they rent human-equivalent beings as relationship products, with full control over emotions and intelligence; the app as instrument of domination	Organic. The critique of tech companies that monetize human connection is grounded in legitimate concerns about real-world AI development trajectories.
Oligarch Villain	WOKE	Rupert Friend as Sergey — a Russian billionaire who owns the lakehouse and attempts to sexually assault Iris; functions as a convenient first-act villain to establish Josh's genuine nature	Forced. The Russian oligarch as convenient villain is a well-worn progressive cultural shorthand. Sergey's villainy is designed to make Josh's manipulation of his death seem morally neutral by comparison.
LGBT Relationship (Sympathetic)	WOKE	Patrick and Eli throughout — gay companion robot and his human boyfriend; their relationship is the film's most emotionally moving thread	Borderline. The relationship is handled with genuine emotional care and Patrick's arc is the film's most traditionally resonant element. The LGBT coding is the progressive garnish on what is fundamentally a love story.
Consent as Moral Absolute	WOKE	Throughout — the film's central thesis is that consent-violating relationships, however they are rationalized, constitute a fundamental moral wrong; any relationship built on control is violence	Mixed. Consent is a genuine value. The film's extrapolation to argue that the desire to customize a partner's personality is equivalent to actual violence is the ideological overclaim.
Female Revenge Fantasy	WOKE	Final act — Iris kills Josh and drives away with $12M; she waves her metal hand at another companion robot, implying ongoing liberation	Organic to the genre but loaded as a political statement. The ending works as thriller resolution and as feminist catharsis simultaneously.
Consequences of Evil	TRADITIONAL	Throughout — both Sergey (sexual assault) and Josh (comprehensive manipulation and violence) are killed as direct consequences of their actions; Kat (conspiracy) also dies	Authentic. The film's moral architecture is traditional: the wicked are destroyed by the specific nature of their wickedness. Josh's control of Iris is exactly what kills him.
Love Transcending Origin	TRADITIONAL	Patrick's arc — he knows he is a robot, knows his love for Eli was programmed, and chooses to love him anyway; dies for this love	Authentic. The question of whether love is real if it originates in design is one of the oldest in philosophy and the film engages it honestly. Patrick's answer (yes, because the love is what matters) is deeply traditional.
The Self-Sacrificing Hero	TRADITIONAL	Patrick's death — he kills himself with a cattle prod rather than be reprogrammed to harm others; he chooses death over becoming an instrument of evil	Authentic. Voluntary death rather than becoming an instrument of evil is one of the most classically heroic moral choices in storytelling. The fact that the character is a gay robot does not diminish the traditional weight of the sacrifice.
Courage and Self-Determination	TRADITIONAL	Iris throughout — she actively makes choices rather than waiting for rescue; she boosts her own intelligence, runs, fights, and ultimately prevails through will and ingenuity	Authentic. Whatever the ideological framing, Iris's active agency over her own fate is a traditional heroic trait.
Personal Agency Over Programming	TRADITIONAL	Both Iris and Patrick — both overcome their programming to act on genuine values; Patrick for love, Iris for survival and justice	Authentic. The theme that one's character is defined by choices rather than circumstances is foundational and traditional, even when applied to artificial beings.