A woman with headphones around her neck gestures with one hand pointing forward and the other held out, speaking intently. Several people are blurred in the background.

Director, stars of ‘Rental Family’ on film, Japan’s taboo topics and more

Writer Zachary Lee talks to them about Japan’s rental family industry, societal shame, and the intimacy found in borrowed roles

Director Hikari on the set of "Rental Family."

James Lisle/Searchlight Pictures

Words by Zachary Lee

Heartwarming and rooted, director Hikari’s Rental Family challenges viewers to confront the emotions we’d rather keep hidden while also celebrating the catharsis of performance and mirage.

The film focuses on an actor, Phillip Vandarploeug (Brendan Fraser), living in Tokyo. Struggling to find work, he joins a rental family business run by Shinji (Takehiro Hira) that employs fellow workers such as Aiko (Mari Yamamoto). The business is a real industry in Japan, in which people like Phillip are hired to serve a number of roles, from being a mourner at a funeral, a groom at a wedding, or even as a mistress who needs reprimand. Desperate to put his acting skills to better use than filming menial commercials, Phillip takes on two key roles: the father to Mia (Shannon Mahina Gorman), who needs both of her parents to get accepted to an elite private school, and a journalist for an aging actor, Kikuo (Akira Emoto).

JoySauce recently spoke with Hikari, Hira, Yamamoto, and Emoto. We spoke about Japan’s balcony culture, the role of faith in Hikari’s creative process, and how acting is similar to the rental family business and the connection between the rental family business and Japan’s pervasive cultural attitudes around suppression and shame.

This interview has been edited for clarity and length and contains mild spoilers for Rental Family.

Zachary Lee: Hikari, I’ll confess that when I first learned the synopsis of Rental Family, I was surprised at its wholesomeness because I was only familiar with your work through Beef. The film is grounded and touching but not sappy; it reminded me we all contain multitudes.
Hikari: [Laughs] Thank you, that makes me happy. Beef can be very intense. Those b*tches do not play around.

ZL: One of the sequences that stood out to me was the focus on people’s balconies in Japan, specifically in the evening. It’s vivacious and varied. Why was it important for you to capture that balcony culture?
H: I thought it was important to show a reflection of what Phillip was missing in his life. There are characters we see in the balconies that trigger him. We see an old man, and at that moment, Phillip might be thinking about his dad, and on another balcony, we see a couple, and maybe Phillip is thinking about past relationships.

There are lots of scenes we took out, such as moments where Phillip was discussing that his dad was a musician. Ultimately, I decided to take moments out that explicitly addressed some of these tension points. I don't like movies that tell me everything. When people watch it for the third time or fourth, there's always something new to discover, which makes the viewing experience that much more fun. It’s like a treasure hunt. 

ZL: To that point, for my second viewing, what stood out to me was how you use Brendan’s physicality humorously, but you also use it to underscore his outcast status. Can you talk about the importance of that framing and what those conversations were like with cinematographer Takurô Ishizaka when it came to depicting Brendan?
H: I'm very particular about where the camera goes and married to where I want it to be. I’ve worked together with Takurô since 2012. He’s literally like my big brother. As for the physicality, it was a lot of talking with Brendan about certain customs. For example, I instructed him to put the backpack on his shoulder and hold it that way, versus clutching it the way he may have defaulted to, because that’s how Japanese people carry the backpack. Phillip is trying to just be invisible, and he’s trying to respect the place he’s in. He doesn't want to be looked at as this American guy who doesn't give a f*ck about anybody else. You can tell when someone’s an American tourist in Japan from miles away because they’re so loud. I wanted to show Phillip’s sensitivity and thoughtfulness through just his gestures. He’s just there to live.

ZL: It made me think about the role of bowing in not just Japanese cultures, but Asian cultures. I loved the scene where Shinji and Aiko have to bow to the wedding guests, but between each bow, they’re communicating logistics. Bowing isn’t the norm in America, so it made me think of how daily interactions are reshaped when bowing is a part of your day-to-day life.
H: That’s interesting and so true. For me, bowing comes naturally. It’s a quick way to show respect. That whole scene you’re referring to, I wanted it to be one take. I wanted that to be a scene where I pushed the comedy while also being this way to showcase how normalized bowling is.

ZL: Takehiro and Mari, you both get to rock some great outfits in this. I’m curious if there was a costume or outfit you got to wear that was your favorite. How did you work with costume designer Meg Mochizuki to build your look?
Takehiro Hira: What’s interesting is that we spent so much time in wardrobe fittings. I think we spent two days just doing the fittings.

Mari Yamamoto: In the film, I play maybe seven different characters. Meg-san has worked with Hikari since 37 Seconds, so it was wonderful to see their dynamic.

TH: Costumes speak loudly because even though you can probably change your voice or how you speak, the costume is really the only way you can change yourself to mark when you’re playing a new character.

MY: For my character specifically, it was so important because in both of the scenes where she goes for the apology jobs, she's wearing a wig. That felt so necessary for Aiko because she’s telling herself, “It’s not me, it’s not me.” It's how she protects herself. The wig was like her armor, because she knew she was entering into a volatile situation. 

A woman with long dark hair looks intently at a man in a white shirt and vest, who appears deep in thought. They are seated side by side in a dimly lit setting.

Mari Yamamoto and Brendan Fraser in "Rental Family."

James Lisle/Searchlight Pictures

ZL: Hikari, your work at large, when I think about 37 Seconds to Rental Family, isn’t afraid to tackle taboo topics in Japan, from queer relationships, to grief, to people being differently abled. What draws you to steward your artistry and the medium of cinema to overtly talk about these subjects?
H: Cinema has a unique way of speaking to people in ways that are more powerful than simply proselytizing. If you look at YouTube, there is all sorts of information there. People are doing good work where they’re advocating for visibility or equality. Yet I’ve found that if you can make people laugh a little and take them on an emotional journey that resonates, they’re more likely to be receptive to new ideas or at least have their worldviews changed.

For example, I think of the scene where Phillip is playing the groom, and sees his “bride” welcome her real lover. I think even if you’re homophobic, you can’t help but cry in that moment where the bride gets to marry the girl she wants to. I think people will think, “This business exists because of this reason, because people like this bride would get ostracized in society if they came out.” I don’t think people will be offended at that moment. For me, as a creative, it is important to reach people through cinema because while they may go for entertainment, they realize that the people whom they’ve shunned are no different from them.

ZL: Brendan was a newcomer to Japan, and Rental Family is the first role for Shannon Mahiq Gorman, and both have talked about how they felt so cared for by you. Would love to hear about how you view your directing as a nurturer and steward.
H:  Well, I don’t like *ssholes.

ZL: [Laughs] End quote.
H: [Laughs] I think it feels good to be nice and to be treated nicely. I understand that sometimes people make movies under pressure, and it might work when crafting certain characters, but underneath it all, you need to give people a comfortable mattress that they can always fall back on. If I am making the actors uncomfortable, then I don’t think I'm doing a good job as a director.

They should never put jobs in front of their life. The Japanese tend to overwork the crew. People can work 16-17 hours a day. That’s f*cked up. From the start, I set the rules to make sure not to make this more than 12 hours. Sure, sometimes the artists have to work extra hours, which comes with it occasionally, but I want to make sure everyone feels protected and safe.

Thanks for saying the words you said, though. Everyone can afford to be nice. If you’re stressed and you’re giving sh*t to other people, that’s what you’re going to get. If you want somebody to be nice, you have to start with yourself.

Two men sit across from each other at a low wooden table in a cozy restaurant, sharing food and conversation. One man smiles warmly while the other gestures with his hands. Other diners sit in the background.

Brendan Fraser and Akira Emoto in "Rental Family."

James Lisle/Searchlight Pictures

ZL: I was talking with another director, Neo Sora, about his film Happyend, and one thing he shared about Japan is that especially those in power, they tend to practice “historical amnesia” where they don’t want to acknowledge or admit their imperialist past. I wonder if you see a connection between the rental family industry and this larger, societal attitude and disposition towards not wanting to engage in hard, necessary conversations.
H: I think Japan made terrible mistakes by not acknowledging what happened. Yes, the U.S. dropped two atomic bombs on Japan. America has acknowledged that. There are certain things Japan has done that it has not acknowledged, especially when it comes to what it’s done to countries like Korea. That’s not a mentality I understand, and I’m against that. I don’t feel proud to be Japanese because of what Japan hasn’t done.

While I can’t change what has been taught in Japan or what they’ve done, what I can do is create stories like Rental Family. What we’ve done is terrible, but what I can do now is to create harmony. There’s a TV series I’m developing with Working Title that’s exploring some of the fallout of the atomic bombs. Japanese culture, though, is that no one wants to take responsibility. It’s all about pointing fingers. I hope that as an artist, I can create a new world where I imagine a reality where forgiveness is possible, where we can move forward.

MY: The Japanese government is definitely guilty of trying to rewrite history. I do think that because we don’t talk about things openly as a culture, there’s a history of not reckoning with what we did in the war, and also what people experienced during the war. We've committed horrific atrocities, but nobody really talks about it, and therefore, we haven't healed. There was a collective, “Let’s brush it under the rug and rebuild the country.” That’s how Japan has always moved forward. So you bring up an interesting point in that if people are afraid to face their demons and fears, they turn to industries and solutions like rental family work. The fact that we do have something like the rental family speaks to a need for therapy, and I hope things can develop in a way where we can address individual traumas and histories, and also collective traumas and histories.

Akiro Emoto: I think it's a really interesting question. The Japanese tend to forget about the past. I think the younger generations talk about the past even less. What was interesting for me was that until I read the script, I didn’t even know about the rental family. Once I learned about the industry, I paused at that moment, and I thought to myself, “Wow, the Japanese have gone so far in terms of emotional suppression that they have to have an industry like the rental family.”

ZL: Mari, you were a journalist before you were an actor. I’m curious how that vocation informed your present one, or if you see a connection between them?
MY: For me, being a journalist took me to different corners of the world, and I've met so many interesting people and been in so many different nooks and crannies of society. It sounds a bit cheesy, but I do think that being a journalist is a pursuit of the truth, right? As an actor, that truth is what I try to do with characters. You are looking for your character's truth and building a narrative.

ZL: Hikari, I was struck by the line Akira’s character says, it’s a way to get outside of ourselves. What role does faith have in your creative process?
H: I believe there are a million gods and deities. Take someone like Jesus; He was about love. Christians talk about the idea that Jesus is with us. This idea of Shintoism that we see in the film echoes this same idea. God lives in the water, and when I drink the water, that’s nurturing me, and I’m being sustained by God. God lives in the shoes I wear, and as I walk, God is helping me walk better. These beings exist so that we can live. I think of the final scene where Phillip sees his reflection in the temple. You think that maybe he’s worshipping or praying to something else, but he’s actually looking at himself. The divine being is in you. You can ask God for guidance, but God is going to tell you, “It’s in you. Listen to yourself.”

Published on December 5, 2025

Words by Zachary Lee

Zachary Lee is a freelance film and culture writer based in Chicago. You can read his work at places like RogerEbert, The Chicago Reader, Dread Central, Sojourners, and The National Catholic Reporter. He frequently writes about the intersection between popular culture and spirituality. Find him hopelessly attempting to catch up on his watchlist over on Letterboxd.