Rental Family (2025)

Rental Family is one of those films that sneaks up on you. The premise, an American actor adrift in Tokyo who takes work as a stand-in family member for strangers, could easily have been played for farce or condescension. Instead, the film treats these rented relationships with genuine empathy, finding real tenderness in the gaps between performance and connection. Brendan Fraser anchors the whole thing with a quiet, lived-in sincerity that seems to draw on his own experiences of isolation and reinvention.

Hikari’s patient, understated direction lets the emotion arrive through small gestures rather than big speeches, and the Tokyo cinematography is gorgeous, from aerial panoramas to neon-lit side streets. The strongest thread belongs to Mia, whose story uses a specific Japanese cultural practice to explore something universal about what family means and what we owe each other.

The plot can be predictable in places, and some of the subplots around Phillip’s career feel underdeveloped. But the film’s sweetness and sincerity outweigh its formula. Everyone plays roles for the people around them, and Rental Family argues convincingly that the connection can be real even when the arrangement is not.