Phillip isn’t doing so well. Having moved to Tokyo seven years ago, he’s been trying to get acting work for a while. The demand for a token white guy isn’t very high though, and his agent puts him in touch with an agency for a non-traditional role: rental family. Instead of performing on the stage or the screen, Phillip is acting in real-life roles: a best friend, a lover and eventually, a father.
If you’re cynical, this sounds like Oscar bait from the jump. The actual movie is quite different though, and feels much more personal than a boilerplate melodrama. Writer and director Hikari created something primarily for Japanese audiences, though it’s something everyone can connect with.
Rental Family details the very real rental family industry in Japan, and it’s equal parts beautiful and sad. While there is beauty in the real human connection many in this industry create, there are drawbacks and the film doesn’t shy away from criticizing some of the more harmful practices. Though I still believe this movie wasn’t made primarily with an American audience in mind, Phillip is a stand-in for a Western audience member who is new to these ideas and this culture. The film is more interested in diving deep with its characters and simple premise than creating big shocking twists, and I think it’s better for it.
I saw some online criticism about the way this film’s use of color (or lack thereof) and I disagree wholeheartedly. This movie shows Tokyo how it is, not how it looks in movies or TV shows. It’s gray, noisy, and isolating, but also uniquely beautiful. The scenes in this movie mostly shy away from the big tourist meccas and opt for small, unidentified parks, shops and temples. As the credits rolled, I felt homesick for a place I’ve visited only once. Very few movies really nail the experience of being in that town or city, and Rental Family does so perfectly. I’d recommend it to those looking for a grittier, more realistic look at one of the largest cities in the world.
The film is also deeply steeped in Shinto philosophy, and the idea of God in everything including us. It plays well to the movie’s themes but the less spiritual viewers may be put off by the heavy-handedness of it. If I had any criticisms of this movie, it’s that the conflict is resolved much too fast. I believe it stems from the desire for a grounded, realistic story that doesn’t devolve into melodrama, but the off-screen resolutions feel a bit brief and could have benefited from some fleshing out. The movie is already almost two hours long though, so it makes sense that they would need to make cuts somewhere.
I would be remiss not to talk about Brendan Fraser’s performance, because he’s a joy to watch. He’s funny, charming, and perfectly flawed. We empathize with his search for human connection in a city where he stands out as a six-foot-three white guy, and our heart breaks for him when he ultimately has to say goodbye. I enjoyed both Takehiro Hira and Mari Yamamoto as Phillip’s coworkers, but the most memorable performance is Akira Emoto as a beloved aging actor with a lifetime of regrets. He’s funny and engaging without much monologuing, and it’s the quiet moments between him and Phillip where the movie really shines.
I say this film is primarily for a Japanese audience because there are no big revelations, life-changing encounters, or major upheavals to the status quo. Everything is kind of small potatoes, and no one really ends up that much better off than where they started. People are indirect, passive-aggressive and maintain a facade of normalcy, and they don’t learn to be different moving forward. However, just because the change is small doesn’t mean it’s not significant, and that is ultimately Rental Family’s message. It’s heartwarming, devastating at times and even a little inspiring. It might even make you cry. I know I did.
