I must admit, I'm fascinated by the cultural embrace of dishonesty and denial that several recent Asian films have showcased. I first became aware of this phenomenon in Lulu Wang's 2019 movie The Farewell—or rather, the far superior radio version of her autobiographical story about the lengths a Chinese family goes to keep their beloved Grandmother in the dark when they discover she has only a short time left to live. 2025 gave us the Chinese documentary Mistress Dispeller, about a professional manipulator who works with couples in adulterous marriages, urging both spouses to lie to each other to get them to confess some form of truth. Now comes this heartstring tugger by the Japanese filmmaker and former actress known as Hikari, about an American actor living in Japan who takes a job playing family members and other key figures in the lives of strangers.
Brendan Fraser stars as Phillip Vandarploeug, a tall, beefy Midwesterner who, shockingly, can only get acting work in Japan playing Superheroes in toothpaste commercials or American extras in background scenes. But one day, he gets a gig playing a "sad American" at a fake funeral, and learns about a company that rents out people to play missing figures in people's lives. It is explained to Philip by the company founder (Takehiro Hira) and its female employee (Mari Yamamoto) that, since mental illness is a taboo in Japan, people engage in these absurd pretenses and patently false relationships as an alternative to psychotherapy. But Phillip is a real "Brendan Fraser type," and he can't maintain the emotional distance required for the job, especially when he's hired to play the estranged American father to a young girl named Mia (Shannon Mahina Gorman). Mia's mother (Shino Shinozaki) wants her daughter to truly believe Phillip is her father, so that the school admissions board will have a better chance of buying it. Of course, Phillip and Mia form a real bond that isn't easy to sever once the interview is completed.
I really wanted to like this movie. First of all, if these cultural practices are as widespread as movies like this depict, they would be my idea of a living hell. As an honestly obsessive who wears all his feelings and opinions on his face and would much rather have someone tell me directly that they think I'm an asshole, rather than worriy that that's what they think that of me, my greatest fear in life would be that my loved ones and the people I respect and care about the most would lie to me, even if to protect my feelings. Secondly, this grounded premise seems like a plausible way to explore themes of dealing with love and loss by availing oneself of a credible, if ridiculous, commercial service—unlike, say, the one in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, a movie I loathe because of its absurd premise and deeply flawed internal logic.
Unfortunately, while Rental Family never strains credibility, it strains the viewer's patience on myriad levels. First of all, the oafishly attractive Fraser may be good physical casting, but he's just too soft to make us care about this character. In addition to Eternal Sunshine, another film that came to mind while I was trying hard to stay focused on this story was the same year's Materialists. That film felt hindered by casting Dakota Johnson, who lacked the internal warmth I felt the character needed. But she would have been perfect for this role in ways Fraser could never be. He's too warm and cuddly for his performance to overcome the screenplay's flaws. Both the story and the lead character lack a narrative arc, but a colder actor might have at least given us the impression of one.
Another problem with Rental Family is its condescending tone. Hikari has every right to critique the cultural trend her movie showcases, if she indeed feels it's wrong, but the film and its lead character have such a strong negative take on the moral implications of the job, it comes off like an ignorant American picture that doesn't understand the culture it's depicting and criticizing. The movie points a wagging finger at a problem, but by the end, very little has changed, yet somehow it's all OK now.
This saccharine and condescending picture is the latest movie to explore the way Asian cultures embrace dishonesty and denial, because therapy is taboo.

