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Brendan Fraser‘s comeback story may have reached its peak with his Oscar-winning role in “The Whale” (2022), but Hikari’s moving drama “Rental Family” proves he still has new depths to explore. The Japanese-set dramedy premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival on Saturday and could very well serve as Fraser’s next ticket into the best actor race.

In the film, Fraser plays Phillip Vandarploeug, a lonely American actor adrift in Tokyo who begins working for a “rental family” agency, stepping into surrogate roles in the lives of strangers. What could be a quirky premise blossoms into a deeply humane exploration of belonging, identity and emotional labor. The conceit is inherently crowdpleasing — a man stumbling into strangers’ lives and finding unexpected connection — but Hikari steers it with earnestness, elevating it beyond sentimental comedy.

The film’s exploration of commodified intimacy arrives at a particularly resonant moment. In our hyper-connected yet profoundly isolated digital age, “Rental Family” examines what happens when human connection becomes a service industry. The Japanese rental family phenomenon — where people pay strangers to fulfill familial roles — might seem foreign to Western audiences, but it speaks to a global crisis of loneliness that transcends cultural boundaries. Fraser’s American outsider navigating this world becomes a mirror for viewers, questioning the authenticity of their own relationships in an era of curated social media personas and transactional digital interactions.

The beauty of Fraser’s performance lies in pure, heartfelt execution. Unlike the overt physical transformation of “The Whale” or the rugged bravado of “The Mummy,” his Phillip is quiet, tentative and often awkward, revealing layers of alienation that are relatable. There’s a resonance in seeing Fraser — once the box office everyman, then Hollywood exile, then comeback king — now playing a man who feels invisible until he steps into someone else’s narrative.

This meta-textual dimension is used expertly by Fraser, and something the Actors Branch may be attracted towards. Oscar voters are often drawn to performances that blur the line between role and real-life persona. In Phillip, Fraser finds a character whose journey somewhat mirrors his own: a man searching for purpose, rediscovering his worth and ultimately touching the lives of others in profound ways.

“Rental Family” also has the makings of a strong Toronto People’s Choice Award contender. TIFF audiences historically embrace films that balance accessibility with emotional impact — “The King’s Speech,” “Green Book” and “The Fabelmans” are all past winners. Hikari’s film shares that DNA: it’s funny without being frivolous, emotional without being manipulative, and culturally specific while universally resonant.

The film’s cross-cultural appeal speaks to cinema’s power to bridge seemingly insurmountable differences. By placing an American protagonist within Japan’s unique social service economy, which is also devoid of a traditional “villain,” Hikari creates a lens through which Western audiences can examine their own assumptions about family. The movie asks uncomfortable questions: If genuine care can be purchased, what makes “real” relationships more valuable?

While Fraser is the obvious awards hook, the film’s strengths extend further. Hikari, who previously directed “37 Seconds” and episodes of “Beef,” crafts an understated but visually rich narrative, weaving Tokyo’s neon glow with the intimacy of makeshift homes. Searchlight Pictures’ involvement ensures a savvy campaign, with possible pushes in original screenplay (which also includes co-writer Stephen Blahut) and perhaps international-friendly categories like cinematography (Takurô Ishizaka) and original score (Jónsi and Alex Somers).

Hikari’s directorial choices prove particularly sophisticated in their cultural sensitivity. Rather than exoticizing Japanese customs for Western consumption, the film treats the rental family concept as a natural response to modern social isolation. The visual language seamlessly blends Tokyo’s urban sprawl with intimate domestic spaces.

Still, best actor would seem to be the core play here. Fraser’s heartfelt turn, coupled with TIFF buzz, could easily place him in the top tier of contenders alongside heavyweights like Dwayne Johnson (“The Smashing Machine”) and Jesse Plemons (“Bugonia”), along with others expected in this year’s crowded lineup. I would also point out the memorable and enriching works of Takehiro Hira and Mari Yamamoto in their supporting turns.

If TIFF’s Audience Award has historically pointed to Oscar glory, “Rental Family” could be Fraser’s bridge from comeback star to Academy mainstay. And with a November release from Searchlight — perfectly timed for awards season — it has all the ingredients to become one of the year’s defining crowdpleasers.

“The Eyes of Ghana” makes a rather literal start to its story. The first frame of the film is of its protagonist’s eyes. He’s Chris Hesse, a Ghanaian filmmaker in his 90s. He’s seen getting his eyes checked and receives the news that he will lose his eyesight. However, the film is concerned with his metaphorical eyes and not his real ones; with his work, not his health. Filmmaker , an Oscar winner for his short “The Last Repair Shop,” shows reverence to both Hesse and to the importance of cinema in a winsome tribute to a man on his last chapter of life who’s been ignored for decades.

In the 1950s and ’60s, Hesse served as the personal cameraman of Kwame Nkrumah, Ghana’s first leader and an inspiring figure in African nations’ quest for independence. Nkrumah led Ghana’s fight for independence and inspired many by calling for “a united states for Africa” that would make the continent a superpower. He also believed in the power of cinema and wanted to harness it the way the U.S. used Hollywood to influence world culture.

Hesse was always at his side, carrying a camera and photographing the prime minister. He escorted him on his travels around the world and on his rallies at home. When Nkrumah was deposed, all these films were destroyed by his successors, who wanted to erase all evidence of his rule. Fortunately, the negatives were stored far away in London. Hesse is on a quest to have them restored and shown in Ghana. A student of his who is also a filmmaker in her own right, Anita Afonu, becomes Hesse’s ally. Through their on-camera interviews, passion and reverence for cinema comes clearly through, making the film a touching paean to the power of the artform and the people behind it.

Also on camera is Edmond Addo, the proprietor of a run-down outdoor cinema in Accra. Afonu hopes to screen Hesse’s work there. Through his testimony and memories, the filmmakers add a poignant note about the grandeur and unique appeal that cinema held decades ago — a status that has since been diluted with the proliferation of other entertainment media. The film’s best passages occur when it calls back to the nostalgia of cinema as a revered art.

Additionally, the presentation of the relationship between Hesse and Nkrumah is intriguing. One had ultimate access and the other had ultimate power. They developed their own language: Nkrumah used a walking stick even though he didn’t need it, in order to signal Hesse what he wanted him to shoot. Hesse believed in Nkrumah and particularly in his dream of a united Africa, something he still carries with him today.

Afonu becomes the voice of a different generation, one that sees Nkrumah as the dictator he became. The film pointedly calls out Nkrumah as a dictator but never questions whether Hesse’s documentation of his rule was akin to propaganda, since it was all on his own terms. “The Eyes of Ghana” shows little of Hesse’s footage, which is understandable since most of it has not yet been restored. Documenting that time of a young independent Africa is certainly a worthy endeavor, even though the film never discusses the artistic and moral merits of these documentaries. 

Hesse remains a fascinating protagonist from beginning to end. His gentle way of speaking invites the audience to relax and listen, as if they are listening to a favorite older relative tell them of the good old times. His rapport with Afonu palpably carries through the film’s narrative. Their shared belief in the importance of cinema breaks through the screen, contagiously inflicting those watching, striking a hopeful tone to cherish and admire that also prevents the film from appearing earnest and naive.

In 2025, it’s inconcievable to hear Hesse talk of his hope of Nkrumah’s dream of a united Africa becoming a reality. With a genocide in Congo and war, famine and ethnic cleasing in Sudan, to cite just two of the conflicts currently happening in Africa, that dream seems impossible. Yet Hesse’s good-natured conviction and the appealing way Proudfoot frames him almost make it believable.