'Rental Family' Review: A Charming and Moving Dramedy With Brendan Fraser in Likeable Form
- Dan Bremner
- 7 hours ago
- 4 min read
By Dan Bremner - January 21, 2025
The Brendan Fraser comeback tour continues, and honestly, long may it reign. Following his Oscar win for The Whale which stole the hearts (and meals) of audiences, Rental Family marks his first proper theatrical starring role since that win, and it is a welcome return. On paper, this sounded like something I’d bounce off hard: a dramedy built around loneliness, artificial relationships, and emotional labour, wrapped in a “quirky but heartfelt” foreign setting. The trailers didn’t help, selling it as something dangerously close to mawkish, manipulative, and designed to squeeze tears out of audiences on command. To my genuine surprise, Rental Family ended up being a complete delight, not flawless, not immune to sentimentality, but far more thoughtful, grounded, and emotionally sincere than I was expecting.
The premise itself is fascinating, and crucially, the film treats it with respect rather than novelty. The idea of Japanese rental family services (agencies where people can hire stand-ins for relatives, friends, or even entire families) could easily have been framed as either something deeply creepy or as a quirky punchline. Instead, the film approaches it with curiosity and empathy, presenting it as a symptom of modern isolation rather than a moral failing. People aren’t using these services because they’re broken or strange, they’re doing it because they’re lonely, grieving, overwhelmed, or simply lacking connection in a society that often discourages emotional openness. That non-judgmental lens does a lot of the heavy lifting and allows the film to explore its themes without mockery or condescension.
At the centre of it all is Brendan Fraser, who is just effortlessly likeable here. He plays the role with warmth, gentleness, and a slightly rumpled sadness that feels lived-in rather than performative. There’s something incredibly comforting about watching Fraser in this phase of his career, not chasing youth, not overplaying the vulnerability, just existing as a decent, slightly lost man trying to figure out where he fits. He’s funny without forcing it, tender without tipping into self-pity, and deeply human in a way that makes even the film’s more manipulative beats easier to swallow. It’s not a flashy performance, but it’s exactly the kind of role that suits him now, and it’s easy to see why audiences have responded so strongly to it. And as someone who's never had parents, I would absolutely love to hire Mr. Fraser as my rental dad.
What really helps Rental Family work is its episodic structure, where Hikari allows the film to explore different clients and situations without overstaying its welcome, allowing a careful balance of comedy, drama and sincerity. Each rental scenario, whether it’s playing an absent father, a stand-in husband, or an emotional support presence, functions like a small character study, offering glimpses into different forms of loneliness and need. Some of these vignettes are genuinely funny, others quietly devastating, and most land somewhere in between. The film wisely avoids turning these clients into punchlines, and instead lets their stories breathe just enough to feel real without becoming emotionally exhausting.
The supporting cast is another major strength, particularly the Japanese actors who give the film cultural and emotional weight. Takehiro Hira, Mari Yamamoto, and Akira Emoto all deliver nuanced, restrained performances that add texture and authenticity to the world Fraser’s character is stepping into. There’s a quiet confidence to the ensemble work here, no one is overplaying the emotion, no one is trying to steal scenes, and that restraint keeps the film from tipping fully into saccharine territory. The relationships feel observed rather than manufactured, which goes a long way in a film that could so easily have become unbearably twee.
Rather than leaning into the usual neon-soaked, hyper-stylised depiction of Tokyo that Western films often default to, Rental Family opts for brighter, more everyday settings. Offices, homes, parks, streets, places that feel genuine and ordinary on top of stunning scenery from the wilderness later on. That visual approach mirrors the film’s thematic focus on the mundane nature of loneliness and connection. This isn’t about exoticising Japan or turning it into a backdrop for Western self-discovery, it’s about finding meaning in quiet routines, connection and small acts of kindness.
It does absolutely lean into sentimentality at times, and there are moments where you can feel the emotional gears turning a little too obviously. Certain beats are clearly designed to hit specific emotional notes, and the score from Jónsi and Alex Somers occasionally swells in ways that feel a bit pushy. If you’re particularly sensitive to films that wear their hearts on their sleeves, there will be moments here that feel manipulative or overly sweet. I didn’t fully escape that feeling, even if I was mostly willing to go along with it.
What separates Rental Family from lesser feel-good dramedies is its awareness of those manipulative instincts. The film seems to know when it’s pushing, and often pulls back just in time. It allows space for discomfort, for ethical ambiguity, and for the idea that paid emotional labour doesn’t magically transform into authentic connection without complications. The blurred line between performance and reality is treated as something both beautiful and troubling, and the film never fully resolves that tension, which feels honest.
Thus succeeds because it’s content to be small, gentle, and humane. It’s not trying to reinvent the genre or deliver a devastating emotional gut-punch, it’s interested in kindness, empathy, and the strange ways people find connection in an increasingly isolated world. Brendan Fraser remains incredibly easy to root for, the supporting cast adds real depth, and the premise is explored with far more thoughtfulness than the trailers suggested. Yes, it’s a bit gloppy at times, and yes, it occasionally presses its emotional buttons a little too hard, but it’s also charming, funny, sincere, and surprisingly moving in several moments.
Rental Family isn't immune to manipulative mawkishness, but it wears its heart on its sleeve to deliver a tender, thoughtful and funny exploration of loneliness in a fascinating sub-culture of Japan. A warm, easy watch that features another effortlessly likeable performance from Brendan Fraser that keeps things watchable, tender and genuinely moving in key moments. A very pleasant surprise.
'Rental Family' is out now in UK cinemas.
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