DanTheMan2150AD

I don't think a film has ever left me smiling and laughing, then shifting to uncontrollable sobbing, so many times before. There was a particular point in Rental Family wherein Brendan Fraser's character is asked if he'd ever consider using the same service he's providing to so many other people; it really got me thinking about how much I miss members of my own family and what I wouldn't give to see them again, however brief, for one more time. It understands loneliness better than most films bother to try. There's a beautiful sense of heart and deep emotional love at its core, daring to ask what it really means to interact with fellow humans and how the roles we play in life shape our reality and our perception of it. It all bathes in a subdued light: low lamps, quiet kitchens, rainy streets that blur into bokeh, Tokyo is a presence, not oppressive, just honest, a city of people close yet worlds apart. Hikari directs the film with a wonderful amount of softness, offering the comfort of a warm hug within, never becoming overly melodramatic or heavy-handed as it's all handled with tenderness and careful thought. It doesn't try to be revolutionary in its storytelling, yet for this reason, the depth of human connection we witness is tremendous. Brendan Fraser is simply phenomenal, chewing through scenes with masterful restraint. He doesn't demand the spotlight or steal scenes from equally exceptional co-stars; he elevates those around him with emotional quietness. An endearing tour of empathy, compassion and a glimpse of humanity at its best, yet equally so quietly devastating, Rental Family serves as a small yet meaningful reminder of the importance of kindness and human connection in a world that seems to be losing both.