Imagine a world where you can rent a family to fill the void in your life. Sounds bizarre, right? But this is exactly the premise of Rental Family, a captivating comedy-drama starring Brendan Fraser that blurs the lines between reality and performance. Set in Tokyo, the film introduces us to Phillip (Fraser), an actor employed by a unique company that provides stand-ins for family members. What starts as a job soon evolves into something deeper as Phillip forms genuine connections with his clients.
At first glance, Rental Family feels like a mashup of Hirokazu Kore-eda’s poignant After Life and the surreal antics of Nathan Fielder’s The Rehearsal. But here’s where it gets controversial: while the film explores the emotional labor of its characters, it also raises questions about the ethics of selling emotions. The company Phillip works for offers services ranging from playing mourners at staged funerals to acting as a scapegoat for a scorned wife’s anger. Owner Shinji (Takehiro Hira) sums it up bluntly: “We sell emotion.”
Phillip, the lone white American on the team, takes on roles like an overseas journalist interviewing a retired actor (Akira Emoto) and a long-lost father to a young girl, Mia (Shannon Gorman), whose mother hopes to secure her spot in an elite school. And this is the part most people miss: Fraser’s performance is a masterclass in vulnerability. His gentle physicality and expressive eyes make Phillip both endearing and self-aware, a character you can’t help but root for—even though his job is built on deception.
Director Hikari doesn’t shy away from the moral complexities of the story. We see Phillip’s internal struggle, especially when he bonds with Mia, the girl he’s pretending to father. Yet, the film never fully dives into the darker implications of this industry. Instead, it leans into feel-good moments, showcasing Japan’s stunning landscapes and cultural richness as a backdrop for Phillip’s growing relationships.
As the film progresses, it becomes increasingly sentimental, bordering on overly sweet. Fraser’s grounded performance keeps it from veering into melodrama, and side stories—like that of Aiko (Mari Yamamoto), who plays a scorned woman for hire—offer glimpses into the nuanced realities of this industry. But here’s the bold question: Is Rental Family too afraid to confront the darker side of its premise? While Fraser effortlessly navigates the emotional highs and lows, the film’s reluctance to explore its more unsettling aspects feels like a missed opportunity.
Despite this, Fraser’s affable presence carries the film, making it a crowd-pleaser that explores the complexities of human connection. Rental Family may not always live up to its ambitious premise, but it’s a delightful reminder of Fraser’s range and charm.
What do you think? Is renting emotions a harmless service or a morally questionable practice? Share your thoughts in the comments—let’s spark a conversation!
