A candid look at friendship, identity and nepo baby scrutiny in a Netflix dorm comedy led by Sadie Sandler and Chloe East
The new Netflix film Roommates opens by dropping the viewer into a small-scale catastrophe: a public spat on campus that quickly signals the film’s preoccupation with domestic boundaries. From the first chaotic exchange the movie makes it clear that it is less interested in dramatic stakes than in the way ordinary living arrangements amplify petty grievances. Director Chandler Levack frames the action so that the daily irritations of college life read as a pressure cooker for personality clashes, and the film immediately stakes its claim as a comedy about how close quarters uncover unexpected behaviors.
At the center of the story is Devon, played by Sadie Sandler, a tentative incoming student who hopes college will finally yield a best friend. She pairs up with the magnetic, party-forward Celeste, portrayed by Chloe East, and what begins as a promising yin-and-yang friendship slips into a war of small humiliations. The screenplay leans into familiar coming-of-age beats—orientation rituals, dorm rituals and messy romantic detours—while also asking whether two very different people can realistically share a room without surrendering something of themselves.
Structurally, Roommates behaves like a set of nested vignettes. A campus counselor interrupts the main dispute to relate a cautionary tale about another freshmen pair, creating an embedded story that both mirrors and contrasts the central pairing. That framing device works to keep the film nimble, and occasional cutaways inject a sitcom sensibility into the flow. Writers Ceara O’Sullivan and Jimmie Fowlie generally follow a conventional trajectory—friendship, escalation, fallout—but the third act surprises by veering into deliberately heightened, almost absurd territory. That tonal swerve can feel disorienting, but it also highlights the film’s willingness to play with expectations instead of settling for a strictly realistic arc.
Chandler Levack shepherds the material with a light, observational touch that privileges performance over stampeding stylistic flourishes. The film works best when it narrows to the chemistry between Sandler and East: their exchanges oscillate between genuine warmth and cutting irritation, and neither performance collapses into a broad stereotype. Supporting players, including Natasha Lyonne and Nick Kroll, populate the campus with recognizable archetypes—helpful parent, well-meaning professor—though some talents feel underused within the constraints of a streaming comedy template. The movie’s visual language adheres to a familiar Netflix palette, but Levack’s timing keeps scenes from feeling purely generic.
Where Roommates stumbles is in its tonal commitment. The screenplay often relies on comfortable rom-com and sitcom rhythms before suddenly leaning into broad, surreal beats that clash with earlier scenes. Had the film embraced that stranger energy earlier, it might have achieved a more coherent identity; instead, the shift reads like a late decision to subvert expectations. Still, the movie earns empathy by treating the anxieties of friendship with care. Moments of sincere vulnerability interrupt the comic chaos, reminding viewers that the jokes are anchored in real insecurity and the search for belonging.
The film is conscious of its position as a platform: produced under Adam Sandler’s Happy Madison banner and featuring Sadie Sandler in a central role, it touches on the idea that industry connections complicate public perception. The script gestures toward the nepo baby conversation without making it the film’s only point, allowing the lead performer to demonstrate a credible range of comedic and small-dramatic instincts. Ultimately, Roommates never quite becomes a definitive campus classic, but it does offer relatable snapshots of freshman life and the slow burn of roommate resentment.
Verdict: the movie lands unevenly—some laughs hit, others land flat—but its honest depiction of awkward friendships gives it moments of genuine resonance. For viewers freshly navigating college dynamics, the film may strike a chord and feel formative. For those already past that stage, it’s an amiable enough watch with a few missed chances. Grade: C+. Roommates is currently streaming on Netflix for audiences looking for a modest, occasionally surprising take on dorm-room chaos.