Rental Family

In an increasingly loud and hectic world, it is liberating and comforting to encounter stories that actually dare to take things a little slower. Being low-key and human, skipping the loud and bombastic and instead focusing on the small details of everyday life. Which is exactly what Rental Family does. It is a quiet, warm and unexpectedly accurate little story about loneliness and that eternal longing for belonging, even if it is only pretend.

At the centre of it all is Philip (played by Brendan Fraser), an American actor who has ended up in Tokyo after his career slowly but surely petered out. He is not bitter, but rather resigned, and has come to accept the situation for what it is. After all, life rarely turns out exactly as you imagined it would. But when he stumbles upon a job that is unusual to say the least - working for a company that rents out people as family members and friends - the door opens to a world that is as absurd as it is emotionally charged. Philip suddenly becomes a father, son or close friend - but on demand.

From a Western perspective, the concept may seem strange, and it would undoubtedly have been easy to dismiss the whole thing as a twisted comedy or cynical satire. But Rental Family and its director Hikari have chosen a completely different path. Here, the subject is treated with respect and reverence, allowing the scenes to play out and take their time. Each encounter between Philip and his clients becomes a little story in itself, often constructed from seemingly mundane situations. A walk in the park, a school meeting, a conversation in a restaurant - this is where the film really finds its heart.

Brendan Fraser is, without exaggeration, absolutely outstanding in the role and, after his more than well-deserved comeback in recent years, he continues to prove to the world what a masterful actor he is and why he is so incredibly easy to like. His interpretation of Philip is perfectly balanced - equal parts awkward and cautious, almost invisible to the world - but also genuinely empathetic. It is controlled and modest, free from grand gestures, and you really feel how he slowly and gradually realises his importance, and that even if the relationships are pretend, the emotional bonds are not.

One of the film's most touching relationships is that between Philip and the young girl Mia, whom he is hired to play father to. Their interaction is low-key but incredibly effective. It is not overly sentimental or tear-jerking, but instead focuses on the quiet sadness that hangs over her and the whole situation. The longing and the cautious joy that Philip manages to bring. Because even though Rental Family may be fairly simple at its core, the questions it raises are anything but.

Unlike many other films where Tokyo and Japan might have been used as a flashy backdrop, here the city functions more as a place full of contrasts - loneliness in a huge crowd, silence despite all the noise. The film never preaches or points fingers, but allows the inevitable culture clashes to happen naturally. The film helps us understand more about how social norms, a sense of duty and the need for harmony are often hidden behind a wall of politeness, and how closeness has become a product that can be sold. The Rental Family company therefore does not appear grotesque, but almost as a logical consequence of how society has developed.

Rental Family does not provide any simple answers, and its ethical and existential undertones are intriguing. Are these fabricated relationships actually helpful or harmful? The film does not pass judgement; instead, it allows us, the viewers, to simply observe and absorb the unique blend of discomfort and warmth. Because even if a relationship is fake, the impression it leaves is genuine and authentic, and the film reminds us that human contact, however it arises, always has value. It is a warm, thoughtful and sometimes painfully accurate story that deserves your time and should be watched in peace, preferably with an open mind.