REVIEW OF THE MOVIE "RENTAL FAMILY"

 

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.

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