A lot of people think sex work is bad. Rightly so, for how on earth can you put a price tag on your own body? The thought is utterly preposterous. Besides, sex is supposed to be something intimate, something that involves a deep emotional connection. Surely you cannot expect to find an emotional connection with a prostitute? Well, what if there were “prostitutes” who specialized in simulating a deep emotional connection with you? “Prostitutes” in suits and silk ties who sell not their bodies, but their emotional services?
I apologize for the crude opening. The opinions expressed above do not belong to yours truly. But providing “emotional services” is exactly what Family Romance, a Japanese firm, does for business. “Emotional services” sounds a bit vague, right? Let’s put it this way: Family Romance allows you to “rent” agents who act as friends or family for a specified period of time, for a fee. Feeling lonely? Rent a friend to go for a stroll in the park. Want to spend time with your estranged father? Dial Family Romance to get someone fill in the role. The idea is mind-blowing, but “family rental services” have been around for quite some time in Japan.
Werner Herzog’s latest feature—Family Romance, LLC—is a study on the emotional transactions that occur between such rental services and their clients. The film is shot almost entirely on a handheld camera with Herzog himself as the cinematographer. It doesn’t employ professional actors, and a lot of the dialogue is spontaneous. One might easily mistake it for a documentary. Yet, the scenes are carefully scripted and explore a very definite question—where do you draw the line between fiction and reality?
Mahiro, a 12-year old girl, lives with her mother. She was estranged from her father at a very early age and has not known what it is like to have a father. Her concerned mother decides to rent a father for Mahiro. Enter Yuichi Ishii, the brain behind Family Romance (both Yuichi and Mahiro are real persons). The film opens on a busy square in Tokyo, with an inconspicuous, well-dressed Yuichi-san standing in the distance. He is waiting for someone. One might easily mistake him for a regular executive loitering on a lazy afternoon. He approaches Mahiro, who walks past him three times, and introduces himself as her father. Mahiro is not surprised; she was told that her father would be meeting her, and she is prepared for it. The two have a cordial, though awkward, interaction, and take a short walk in a park. They spend some time around cherry trees, taking pictures, and watch a swordfight demonstration nearby.
This scene is followed by an interaction between Mahiro’s mother and Yuichi-san (let’s call the mother Ms Ishii; after all, Mahiro’s mother is supposed to be her father’s wife, right? Okay, never mind—we’ll call her Mahiro Sr.). Mahiro Sr. discusses the first interaction between her daughter and Yuichi-san. Yuichi describes the meeting in detail—though friendly, it happened to be a rather formal one. He also shares his observations about the girl, and receives a paycheck from Mahiro Sr. The catch is this—Mahiro has no idea that her ‘father’ is actually an impostor whom her mother has hired. The unassuming girl grows closer to Yuichi, and as the film progresses, starts opening up to him. For his part, Yuichi plays a very convincing father, taking Mahiro to the park, spending time with a younger friend of hers, and clicking funny pics at a booth. He also reports to Mahiro Sr. from time to time, outlining the progress of the father-daughter relationship.
While the father-daughter bond between Yuichi-san and Mahiro is the focus of the story, we also see glimpses of Family Romance’s other engagements. A young bride is hesitant to bring her alcoholic father to her wedding ceremony and hires one of Yuichi-san’s crew to fill in. A woman who won the lottery wishes to experience the euphoria once again and turns to Yuichi-san, who arranges a surprise for her. An operator at the metro hires Yuichi-san to take the blame for a cock-up; Yuichi-san kneels before an angered superior officer, thereby saving the operator’s job. Another woman wants to know what it is like to be a famous movie star. Too easy for Yuichi-san; he arranges a crew of paparazzi who crowd the woman on a busy street, taking pictures in exactly the angles she wants.
These performances might seem empty—they are, after all, not the real deal. But then, does it matter whether they’re real or not? Yuichi’s clients certainly don’t think it does. They’re happy to experience these fictions. And this is not just in the movie—clients report high levels of satisfaction with the services provided by Family Romance and similar agencies. However, the requirements of a long-term engagement with a specific client, as in the case of Mahiro, tests the limits of the contractual arrangement. While the examples mentioned above are usually one-off engagements that are more a matter of convenience, Mahiro’s requirements put forth a very challenging task for Yuichi-san; he has to pretend to be a real father forever. While the young bride and the lottery winner know what they’re signing up for, Mahiro is not. In the end, fearing that Mahiro’s affection for him would exceed “contractually permissible limits”, Yuichi Ishii tells Mahiro Sr. that he will have to terminate the arrangement. Mahiro Sr. hints at the possibility of Yuichi-san coming and staying with them (I think we may start calling her Ms Ishii now), but he laughs it off saying that he will arrange a funeral for himself, thus killing off the persona of Mahiro’s father (in an earlier scene, he actually enquires about the possibility of displaying himself in a coffin). Perhaps stories only go so far.
Family Romance LLC provides insightful commentary on the lack of intimacy in wealthy countries today. Ironically, it is Yuichi Ishii himself who represents the lonely individual who cannot find meaningful connections with people. Though he is all too happy to provide his services for other people, he cannot escape the emptiness within himself. The closing scene shows a forlorn Yuichi walking back home. He hesitates to ring the doorbell, and sits outside, lost as to what he ought to do. In the background sits an artificial dog (probably plastic). Lifeless, it smiles brightly, tongue lolling. A toddler walks up to the tinted glass door and peeps outside, as the scene slowly fades away.
This echoes an earlier scene where Yuichi-san pays a visit to the Henn-Na Hotel, an establishment entirely “manned” by robots; he wishes to learn how robots can be employed by his agency. He is greeted by the receptionist, a lady robot, who wishes him in Japanese. In the fish tank swims a piece of metal that looks like a fish with three different parts hinged together. The manager of the establishment (not a robot), speaking to Yuichi, tells him that the purpose of employing robots is to provide entertainment for his guests. The interaction is followed by Yuichi staring into the fish-tank, looking at the three-piece fish as it folds over and over, swimming aimlessly. In the background, the receptionist keeps repeating, “Welcome to the Henn-Na Hotel!” Entertaining, but eerily dystopian.
Perhaps that’s what all our lives are going to be like. Loneliness may well be inevitable in the future. We might end up renting friends on a frequent basis. But well, it could be vaguely comforting. For, in the end, aren’t we all performers?
Edited by Swathi C S
Article 19 