‘Rental Family’ – Review
2025 has already proven itself to be a year rich with cinematic treasures, delivering film experiences that transcend genre, expectation, and emotional register. As the year begins to crest toward its final act, audiences are gifted something truly special with Rental Family, a heartfelt, deeply resonant comedy-drama from filmmaker Hikari, and one that arrives precisely when we need it most. Gentle, empathetic, and quietly transformative, Rental Family is the kind of film that feels less like something you watch and more like something you experience. It wraps around you like a warm embrace and lingers long after the credits roll.
Set against modern-day Tokyo, out-of-work American actor Phillip Vandarploeug (Brendan Fraser) who struggles to find purpose until he lands an unusual gig: working for a Japanese “rental family” agency, playing stand-in roles for strangers. As he immerses himself in his clients’ worlds, he begins to form genuine bonds that blur the lines between performance and reality. Confronting the moral complexities of his work, he rediscovers purpose, belonging, and the quiet beauty of human connection.
Pairing the singular sensitivity of Hikari with the soulful presence of Academy Award-winner Brendan Fraser, Rental Family is a work of remarkable emotional depth and tenderness. It follows Phillip Vandarploeug (Fraser), a struggling American actor living in Japan, whose career has stalled and whose life feels quietly unmoored. With opportunities dwindling, Phillip stumbles upon an unusual line of work: employment at a Japanese “rental family” agency; a real-world service that provides people with stand-in relatives, friends, or companions for moments both mundane and deeply personal.
Initially, Phillip views the job as little more than a paycheck. He’s bemused by the premise, hesitant about its emotional implications, and unsure how to reconcile performance with authenticity. But as Phillip begins inhabiting these roles: husband, father, friend, and confidant, something profound begins to take hold. What starts as an act of performance slowly evolves into an act of connection, and the results are quietly, beautifully transformative. The journey Phillip embarks upon becomes one of self-reckoning, empathy, and rediscovered purpose, culminating in one of the most rewarding cinematic experiences of the year.
Drawing inspiration from her own experiences with loneliness and emotional isolation, Hikari crafts Rental Family with extraordinary care and insight. This is a film built on feeling rather than spectacle, on nuance rather than narrative contrivance. Through a series of intimate client interactions, we witness Phillip confronting his own sense of displacement and yearning, gradually learning that connection, however unconventional, has the power to heal. Each vignette within the film feels deliberate and deeply considered, unfolding with a softness that invites the audience to lean in rather than be pushed along.
There’s a poetic quality to Rental Family; it unfolds like a visual haiku, gently washing over the viewer and allowing emotion to rise naturally. In less assured hands, this premise could easily have become a disposable comedy-drama, overly sentimental or mechanically “quirky.” But under Hikari’s thoughtful direction, the film finds surprising depth, humour, and emotional truth. There are moments of unexpected levity, sudden poignancy, and quiet revelation that keep the experience engaging from start to finish, never once feeling manipulative or false.
At the centre of it all is Brendan Fraser, whose recent career renaissance continues to yield performances of extraordinary humanity. As Phillip, Fraser delivers one of his most tender and restrained performances to date. This is a character defined by what he doesn’t say, by glances held a second too long, by hesitation, by the weight of unspoken longing. Fraser plays Phillip with a quiet reserve, allowing emotion to surface organically, often in the smallest of gestures.
His performance is built on subtlety and sincerity. You feel Phillip’s desire to do right by the people he encounters, his struggle to maintain professional distance, and his growing inability to ignore the emotional bonds he’s forming. Fraser’s natural warmth and vulnerability make Phillip instantly sympathetic, and his gradual transformation over the course of the film is deeply affecting. It’s a performance that tugs at the heartstrings without ever demanding tears, and that makes it all the more powerful.
Visually, Rental Family is a stunning achievement. Hikari and cinematographer Takurô Ishizaka paint an exquisite portrait of modern-day Tokyo, capturing both its vibrant energy and its underlying sense of isolation. The city becomes more than a backdrop; it’s a living, breathing character within the story. Through careful use of colour, light, and seasonal transitions, the film reflects Phillip’s internal journey, drawing us deeper into his emotional landscape. By the film’s end, you’ll find yourself aching to book a one-way ticket to Japan, if only to wander its streets through the same contemplative lens.
Yet beneath its beauty, Rental Family is fundamentally an exploration of empathy. It examines loneliness not as a failing, but as a shared human condition, and proposes connection, commitment, and presence as its quiet antidote. This is a story about the profound impact of showing up for one another, about the unexpected ways love can manifest, and about how healing often begins when we allow ourselves to truly see and be seen.
Rental Family stands as one of the most moving, heartfelt, and joyful films of the year. It is a work of deep compassion and emotional clarity, anchored by a magnificent performance from Brendan Fraser and guided by Hikari’s gentle, assured hand. You’ll leave the theatre lighter than when you entered, with a smile in your soul and a flutter in your heart. It’s a beautiful reminder of our shared humanity – and it’s simply brilliant.
Image: 20th Century Studios
