Hello,
dear readers! Today I’m going to talk to you about a film that
not only won the hearts of Americans and Japanese audiences but also charmed
the entire world. Here in Spain, it was warmly received by moviegoers. It even
premiered at the Valladolid Seminci Film Festival, where it had such an
enthusiastic welcome that every ticket sold out. I’m talking about Rental
Family, directed by Hikari, written by Hikari herself
together with Stephen Blahut, and starring Brendan Fraser, Shannon
Mahina Gorman, Mari Yamamoto, Takehiro Hira, and Akira Emoto.
The
film has been described by Spanish audiences as a balm for the heart—emotional
and deeply moving. It earned around €354,000 at the box office during its
opening weekend, and many people say they want to watch it again.
And
they’re absolutely right, because this feature film is a beautiful message of
love. It radiates kindness and brings a ray of light to a world that
desperately needs to sit down in front of a screen and see something like this.
Hikari manages to convey the idea that there will always be someone
kind-hearted willing to sit with us, listen, and help us—someone who will reach
out a hand. She does this through the character of Phillip, played wonderfully
once again by Brendan Fraser, who brings such authenticity to the role
that he feels completely real. It’s as if he pours all his own kindness,
generosity, and sweetness into the character, touching the hearts of the
audience. Everyone wants to “hug him.”
He
is joined by young Shannon Mahina Gorman, who plays Mia—a true
rising star. Her performance is so natural and genuine that you want to “hug
her” too. The same goes for the legendary Akira Emoto, who plays Kikuo
Hasegawa. And of course, the rest of the cast deserves recognition as well.
This film boasts an outstanding ensemble.
Beyond
that, Hikari plays beautifully with the imagery she presents. The
stunning landscapes of Tokyo and the dynamic scenes that capture the city’s
fast pace enrich the storytelling. The former evoke emotion, while the latter
ground us in the context and environment of the story. The music works the same
way, highlighting each emotional beat with melodies that linger in the heart.
The
film explores the world of rental agencies in Japan, where people hire actors
to play the role of someone they need in their lives or in a specific
situation. It approaches this concept with deep understanding and compassion.
It shows the human need to form bonds, to find genuine connection, to feel that
someone cares about us and takes the time to listen. In a world where life
moves at breakneck speed, where work consumes our hours, and where phones or AI
have become our constant companions, Rental Family invites us to
sit face-to-face with another person and truly listen. In the film, this idea
is defended even if the connection lasts only a few hours and exists under a
contract—even if the bond only survives for the duration of that agreement.
Loneliness
is a giant monster that devours us today, and the film subtly shows that in
Japan, seeking mental health support from psychologists is still stigmatized,
so many people turn to rental services instead. Thinking about the crushing
loneliness many people feel, or their need to be heard and understood by loved
ones—and how that often doesn’t happen—while a hired stranger can fill that
void, even if only artificially, is a heartbreaking reality. But Hikari
handles the topic with tenderness.
The
film tells the story of Phillip, an American actor living in Tokyo who
now only gets hired for commercials. One day, he receives a call from a rental
agency asking him to play a “sad American.” When he arrives and sees that a
funeral is “taking place,” he’s confused. The scene is shown with a touch of
humor, because neither he nor the audience understands why he’s at a funeral.
The situation becomes even more confusing—and even “hilarious”—when the “dead
man” lifts his head, moved, and watches the woman giving an emotional speech
through her tears. After the funeral, the “dead man” thanks them for making him
feel that life is worth living. Still confused, Phillip climbs into the
coffin as if doing so might help him understand what just happened and what it
feels like.
Later,
he visits the agency, where they explain the job to him. He doesn’t believe
acting can truly help people, but he eventually accepts.
This
is how Phillip begins his own journey, living through experiences in
which he simulates emotional connections with clients. He feels guilty for
pretending, because he doesn’t believe lies lead anywhere good. But over time,
he begins to understand the clients and why they seek these services. When he
meets Mia—a little girl who believes he is her father because she
doesn’t know her mother hired him to help her get into a prestigious school—Phillip
starts to realize that the bonds he forms during these contracted hours become
real and sincere. The same happens when he connects with a famous elderly
actor, Kikuo Hasegawa, who believes Phillip is a journalist and admirer.
Phillip
ends up forming genuine emotional bonds with both of
them, to the point of overstepping boundaries. His kindness and loyalty
surface, and he acts out of a true desire to help them. He starts taking Mia’s
calls to comfort or advise her, and he helps the elderly actor escape to his
hometown to recover cherished memories from his youth—actions that put the
agency at risk and lead to serious consequences. We also see him turn down a
role in a TV series (his lifelong dream) so he won’t disappoint Mia. That
gesture is so moving that it draws you to the character like a magnet, and from
that moment on, you follow his every step with full attention. You watch him
grow as a person and emotionally. You see him confront his past, his memories,
and rediscover himself, becoming a better version of who he was—with a new
mission: to help others. His transformation is so profound that it inspires his
coworkers and boss to change as well. They all needed real human connection,
and they find it—even among themselves. Phillip also helps his boss, Shinjin,
realize that some services are harmful because they sustain toxic lies. This
leads the business to transform too, abandoning those services and becoming a
genuine support network for people who feel alone.
The
final scene is beautiful. We see Phillip visit the
temple he once visited with Kikuo, and he’s surprised to find that instead of a
divine image on the altar, there is a mirror. He smiles (and we smile with him)
as he understands that everything he’s been searching for is within himself. In
the mirror, he sees his own reflection and recognizes the emotional journey
that brought him there and the change that has taken place inside him.
The
film leaves you with a sweet aftertaste, despite its sad and touching moments
that may bring a tear or two. It fills you with hope, making you believe in the
possibility of a more humane world—a better world, full of peace. A world
where genuine feelings, even if they begin with a lie, come to light and
endure; where “family” is a concept that doesn’t have to be tied only to blood.
I
wholeheartedly recommend this film. It won’t
disappoint you, and it will touch your heart. Brendan Fraser’s
magnificent performance will move you, warm you, and leave you with a
comforting feeling, as if Phillip himself had brought a ray of light into your
life. You’ll want to watch the movie more than once—I’m sure of it.
My
sincerest congratulations to Hikari for this beautiful film, to Brendan
Fraser for his outstanding performance (always moving us), to the rest of
the cast, and to the entire team for creating a movie that will ALWAYS
live in our hearts and continue to find success. Thank you for delighting us
with gems like this one.
For any questions or
inquiries:
contactonuriaelisabeth@gmail.com
