by Charles Kirkland, Jr.
A struggling, down-on-his-luck American actor stranded in Japan becomes employed in one of the country’s more peculiar occupations in Rental Family.
Philip is an out-of-work American actor living in Japan, struggling to stay afloat. Years after a brush with fame from a single commercial, he drifts from one failed audition to the next. When his agent sends him on a last-minute job requiring him to wear a black suit and be the “sad American,” Philip eagerly accepts, only to discover that he has been hired to pose as a mourner at a funeral for a man who, unsettlingly, is still alive and lying in an open casket.
That bizarre assignment becomes Philip’s entry point into a surreal and deeply human world: the Japanese “rental family” industry, where actors are paid to play stand-in roles for clients’ emotional and social needs. As Philip takes on these performances, he begins to form genuine connections that blur the boundary between role-playing and reality, forcing him to question where his character ends and his true self begins.
Rental Family, a dramatic comedy written by Hikari and Stephen Blahut, stars Brendan Fraser, Mari Yamamoto, Takehiro Hira, Shannon Gorman, and Akira Emoto. Hikari also directs, bringing a blend of cultural insight and emotional nuance to this quietly profound story.
The film unfolds across two central narrative threads. In the first, Philip is hired to impersonate the long-missing father of a young girl, Mia, whose mother hopes that the presence of a “father figure” will help her daughter gain admission to an elite preparatory school. From the outset, Aiko (Mari Yamamoto), a perceptive employee at the agency, warns that Philip lacks the experience to handle such a delicate role. Her skepticism proves both right and wrong as Philip becomes deeply entangled in the family’s emotional world.
The second story finds Philip hired to pose as a journalist interviewing legendary filmmaker Kikuo Hasegawa (played with heartbreaking fragility by Akira Emoto), a revered director suffering from dementia. Here, Philip’s challenge shifts from pretending to connect to desperately trying to hold together the fragments of another man’s fading reality. Both stories reflect the same tension: the fragile dance between illusion and authenticity, empathy and exploitation.
Writer-director Hikari uses these intertwined tales to explore the human need for connection and the creative, sometimes desperate, ways people seek it in societies where vulnerability remains taboo. In one of the film’s most striking moments, a sex worker tells Philip that they are in the same line of work: “I help people physically; you help them emotionally.” She is right, but unlike her, Philip has not yet learned how to separate his professional roles from his personal longing for belonging.
At the film’s core is Brendan Fraser’s quietly devastating performance. Gone is the physical transformation of The Whale. Instead, Fraser delivers an internal one that is gentle, soulful, and unadorned. His large frame conveys awkward tenderness, while his expressive eyes communicate everything his character cannot say aloud. It is a portrayal of innocence, empathy, and quiet yearning that grounds the film’s surreal premise in aching humanity.
Hikari resists the temptation to condemn the “rental family” industry, which in reality includes more than 300 agencies across Japan and continues to grow globally. Instead, she offers a compassionate, open-eyed exploration of it. Her message is clear: even relationships born from artificial circumstances can reveal real human truths. Sometimes, family can be the people we find along the way.
Rental Family is a moving, tenderly observed film that is equal parts social commentary and emotional odyssey. It reminds us that the need for connection, no matter how it begins, is what ultimately makes us human.
Grade: B+
