In Writer and Director Hikari’s Rental Family, Brendan Frazier plays Phillip Vanderploeg, the struggling American actor working in Tokyo. Japan has been his home for 7 years. He’s famous for the blue clad Superhero in a Japanese toothpaste commercial. Ever since then, he’s hitting the pavement for his next big gig.
Phil finds work at a Rental Family Company, owned by Shinji Tada, played by handsome charismatic Takehiro Hira. Phil is the “token white guy”. Clients hire Phil to play members of their family. Tada’s other employees are Aiko Nakajima, played by amazing and beautiful Mari Yamamoto, and Kota Nakano, played by funny Kimura Bun.
Addressing the need for rental family, Tada says, “Mental health is a stigma in Japan.” I’m 3rd generation Japanese American. So, I get it. For Japanese, shame, looking bad, for the family can be worse than death. Losing face is menstu wo ushinau. Tada convinces Phil, “We sell emotion.” Not lies. Director Hikari’s Rental Family is the poignant look at Japanese culture that’s even foreign for me at times.
Back in the 1980’s, Rental Family Agencies started as a way to help people, who felt isolated and alone. This might be more relevant now in the Age of Social Media that paradoxically connects people to others, yet isolates them. Sometimes devolving into voyeurism and the great comparison game.
In Phil’s first job, he’s a mourner at the funeral where the client comes to life from his casket in Phil’s utter bewilderment. That old dude wanted to hear what people said about him after he died. That’s either narcissistic, pathetic, or both. Still, it’s messed up.
Middle aged Phil is hired to marry young Yoshie, played by innocent Misato Morita, to appease her parents, so that she can be with her wife Jun, played by Nanami Kawakami. Yoshie knows that her parents would never approve her marrying a woman or their daughter being gay. Mentsu wo ushinau. This is Japan. This happens here, too.
Phil has a breakdown during the marriage ceremony, and hides out in the Men’s Restroom. Aiko is on his ass. Phil pleads, “This is a lie!” Aiko knows that. She vehemently reminds that Yoshie can’t have a life, unless she marries him in this fake marriage. Phil concedes.
Phil has an epiphany as he sees Yoshie with Jun. They bow and say, “Thank you.”
Still, Aiko is pissed with Phil for almost backing out of his job.
Phil asks, “Why do you do this? This job? You’re so passionate about it. Why?”
Aiko answers, “It’s the way these people look at you. Like they’ve been waiting for you their whole lives. Despite everything Tada says, these people stay with you. Sometimes, all we need is someone to look us in the eye and remind us that we exist.”
Sometimes, more than love, we all want to know that we matter, that we exist. That makes Rental Family so powerful, so relevant.
Hikari and Stephen Blahut’s hysterical and touching screen narrative primarily centers around Phil’s relationship with half Japanese, half Caucasian 11-year-old Mia Kawasaki, played by authentically amazing Shannon Mahina Gorman, who applies for a prestigious private school, and Alzheimer’s afflicted legendary movie star Kikuo Hasegawa, played by the great Akira Emoto, as he poses as a journalist writing Kikuo’s life story. Mia’s father left her and her Mom Hitomi, played by solid Shino Shinozaki. Hitomi needs Phil to play Mia’s estranged father to smooth out the private school entrance interviews. Kikuo’s daughter Masami, played by diligent Sei Matobu, hires Phil to look after her ailing father and be his friend. Kikuo wants to Phil to take him to his childhood home to make peace with the great love of his life.
In the poignant backstory, Phil is also alone in self-inflicted isolation. He watches his neighbors while he eats sushi for dinner in his tiny apartment. His Dad left him and his Mom in Minnesota when he was a little boy. He hated his father. His parents both since passed away. Phil tells Aiko how he ditched his father’s funeral. As much as Phil tries to heal Mia and Kikuo, they heal him, too. A testament to Director Hikari’s eloquence.
There’s the shocking narrative twist about imposed isolation about Tada, where Takehiro Hira is so strong. Still, the heart and soul of Rental Family is Phil becoming a father to Mia in a lie, even if it’s fake.
When Mia first meets Phil, she screams, “I hate you!” Like many kids, she believes her Dad left, because he didn’t love her, because she did something wrong. Mia’s eyes open when Phil generously agrees to be the father to her friend at school. Phil is a good man. Mia gives Phil her phone number on his mobile phone. She says, “Now you don’t have to be alone.” As Mia falls asleep on his shoulder on the subway, Phil gets it. Like eating kushiyaki with Kikuo or dressed up like cats with Mia, Phil wanted a father and wanted to be a father. He just didn’t know it. He had to let Mia and Kikuo know they exist, that they matter. That’s what we all want in life.
Brendan Fraser is quietly and sadly powerful in the profoundly best way. He may win another Oscar. Through his gentle kind blue eyes, he sees beauty in Mia and Kikuo. He also sees their suffering. In the First Noble Truth of Buddhism there will always be suffering in life. The Fourth Noble Truth of Buddhism is the path to end suffering. Mia, Kikuo, and Brendan Fraser’s Phil, find their path together.
Maybe, Hikari’s Rental Family gets predictable in the end, still it’s sublime. At the funeral, Phil touchingly says, “I’ll see you, again.” Mia asks, “Why do all adults lie?” Phil quietly answers, “Because we’re afraid of the truth.” As Mia walks holding Phil’s hand, I cried. I got it. Lies can do good. Truth is better. It sets you free. Rental Family is so very special. My favorite movie of 2025.
