Rent-a-Cat (2012) Review – Small Warmth That Visits Lonely Days

 

Header illustration for the film review essay of Rent-a-Cat (2012).

Illustration created for editorial movie review purposes.

🎥 Film Overview

Title: Rent-a-Cat (レンタネコ / Rentaneko / 고양이를 빌려드립니다)

Director: Naoko Ogigami

Release: May 12, 2012 (Japan), December 13, 2012 (South Korea)

Runtime: 110 minutes (1 hour 50 minutes)

Genre: Comedy-Drama

Screenplay: Naoko Ogigami

Country: Japan

Language: Japanese

Cinematography: Kazutaka Abe

Music: Kosuke Ito

Production Company: Eisei Gekijo

Rating: 12+ (South Korea), Not Rated (Japan)

Cast: Mikako Ichikawa (Sayoko), Reiko Kusamura, Ken Mitsuishi, Katsuya Kobayashi, Hidekazu Mashima, Maho Yamada, Kei Tanaka

Box Office: 14,983 admissions (South Korea)

Awards: Premiered at 2012 Stockholm International Film Festival, featured in 17th Busan International Film Festival

Critical Reception: 6.9/10 IMDb, 65% Rotten Tomatoes (2 reviews), 6.5/10 audience score

Note: Director Naoko Ogigami is known for her "healing cinema" style, having previously directed Kamome Diner (2006), Megane (2007), and Toilet (2010). The film explores loneliness through the unique premise of renting cats to lonely people. Sayoko walks along riverbanks pulling her cats in a handcart, calling through a megaphone: "Cats for rent! Are you lonely? Why not rent a cat?" The film's gentle pacing and quirky humor are characteristic of Ogigami's iyashi-kei (healing) filmmaking approach.

📖 Plot Summary

Sayoko is a single woman living in a quietly overgrown corner of the city with numerous cats as her only companions. Since childhood, she has always been followed by cats rather than people. She runs an unconventional service: renting out her cats to lonely individuals.

Each day, she pulls a small handcart filled with cats along the riverbank, announcing through a megaphone. An elderly woman worries a cat will outlive her. A father isolated by age. An employee who admits complete loneliness. These are Sayoko's customers—ordinary people carrying quiet solitude.

The cats provide temporary companionship, filling holes in hearts for measured intervals. Sayoko visits customers' homes, charging modest fees with simple contracts.

Since her grandmother's death, Sayoko herself lives surrounded by cats and occasional insults from an eccentric neighbor. The film follows episodic encounters, each revealing different shapes of solitude and the small warmth that temporarily eases it.

The film does not build toward dramatic resolution. Instead, it observes how brief moments of companionship make isolation slightly more bearable.

🌸 Key Themes

Companionship Without Ownership

The film's premise challenges conventional pet ownership. Sayoko rents cats, not sells them. This temporary arrangement reflects understanding that not everyone can commit to permanent care, yet everyone deserves moments of connection. Companionship does not require possession—sometimes brief encounters carry their own value.

Different Forms of Loneliness

Each customer represents distinct isolation. The elderly woman facing mortality alone. The middle-aged man made invisible by age. The young worker whose life consists only of routine. The film observes these various loneliness without hierarchy—no one's solitude is more or less valid than another's.

Small Warmth in Daily Life

Not all comfort comes dramatically. A cat sleeping on a lap, gentle purring, soft fur under stroking hands—these small sensations create warmth that helps people endure difficult days. The film does not pretend this solves fundamental problems. It simply acknowledges that temporary comfort still matters.

🎬 What Makes This Film Special

Naoko Ogigami's Healing Cinema and Mikako Ichikawa's Performance

Director Ogigami brings her characteristic iyashi-kei (healing) approach—deliberate pacing, gentle humor, patient observation. She resists narrative urgency, allowing scenes to unfold with daily life's rhythm. This may feel slow, but it serves the film's purpose—healing does not rush. Her previous films (Kamome Diner, Megane) established this distinctive style: quiet observation of ordinary people finding small comforts unexpectedly.

Mikako Ichikawa plays Sayoko with remarkable restraint, not signaling loneliness through obvious sadness. Instead, she shows someone who has adapted to solitude, who functions within it while quietly seeking small connections. Some critics felt her straight-faced approach missed comic opportunities; others appreciated the authenticity—Sayoko feels like an actual person, not a quirky character performing eccentricity.

The Cats Themselves

The film features numerous cats with distinct personalities. They are not trained performers but filmed as they are—sleeping, grooming, occasionally responding, mostly existing independently. This honesty makes their presence genuine rather than manipulative. The cats provide comfort not through dramatic loyalty but through simple, breathing presence.

🌍 Where to Watch

Streaming: Plex (free with ads), availability in Japan on Hulu and other select Asian streaming services

Rent/Buy: Limited availability on digital platforms; check regional services

Physical Media: Available on DVD (Region 2/Japan, Region 3/Korea)

Note: Availability varies by region and may change over time. The film has limited distribution outside Japan and South Korea. Please check current listings in your area.

📝 Final Thoughts

Rent-a-Cat will not appeal to everyone. Its episodic structure, gentle pacing, and resistance to conventional resolution may frustrate viewers seeking clear arcs. Yet for those open to Ogigami's observational style, the film offers something quietly valuable: recognition that loneliness takes many forms, and temporary warmth still matters.

The film does not pretend renting a cat solves fundamental isolation. It observes that when loneliness becomes heavy, having something warm and alive nearby—even temporarily—can make continuing slightly easier. This modest claim feels more honest than grand transformation promises.

What makes Rent-a-Cat healing cinema is its fundamental gentleness. It does not judge people for loneliness or mock their need for companionship. Instead, it acknowledges that many move through life carrying quiet solitude, and sometimes small gestures—a cat's presence, brief connection—help them keep going.

💭 Personal Film Reflection

Rent-a-Cat explores loneliness through its unique premise of renting cats to solitary people. Through this setting, the film quietly discusses the small warmth that briefly enters the days of those living alone. It observes companionship not as ownership, but as a way of coexisting with loneliness.

Many who have lived with cats remember familiar scenes. Coming home to a cat rubbing against their legs in greeting. Following from kitchen to kitchen, from room to room, up stairs and down. Sometimes getting scolded for stealing fish left on the table, yet even those mischievous moments become warm memories over time.

After losing a companion animal, the sense of loss does not settle easily. Later, different questions arise. During all those hours away from home, how much time did that small creature spend alone? Though time together was brief, perhaps loneliness accumulated during all those empty hours. This thought arrives belatedly, touching the heart with unexpected weight.

All living beings—humans included—may simply be creatures who feel less lonely when accompanied by someone. This film does not exaggerate or explain such feelings. It simply observes, with quiet attention, relationships that enter someone's day and then return to their own time.

The cats in this film are not merely "pets." They appear more like small warmth that briefly stays during a lonely day before moving on.

Living with a cat meant experiencing certain rhythms. The way they waited by the door. The way they followed from room to room. The way they slept nearby, breathing softly. These moments did not solve loneliness, but they created presence—the feeling of not being entirely alone.

After they are gone, what remains is not just grief but recognition: those small moments of companionship mattered more than one realized while living them. The film captures this truth without sentimentality—that temporary warmth, even when it cannot stay, still carries value.

외로운 하루에 잠시 머물다 가는 작은 온기는, 그 자체로 의미가 있다.

(A reflection in my native Korean—because some truths about companionship and loneliness feel truer in the language of your heart.)

Rent-a-Cat gently reminds us that warmth does not need to be permanent to matter—sometimes brief presence is enough to help us continue through difficult days.

💬 Join the Conversation

Have you experienced the comfort of a companion animal during lonely times? Do you carry memories of small, daily moments that became more precious after they passed? How do you find warmth when loneliness feels heavy? Share your thoughts below.

🎬 More from Cinematic Sanctuaries

If Rent-a-Cat's exploration of quiet companionship and gentle comfort resonated with you, explore more films about small warmth in daily life:

• Kamome Diner (2006) – Simple food and patient listening
• Megane (2007) – The art of doing nothing on a quiet island
• The Way Home (2002) – Understanding across generations
• Still Walking (2008) – Family presence and unspoken care
• Our Little Sister (2015) – Chosen family and gentle support
• Midnight Diner (2014) – Warm food and attentive presence

Each film offers its own reminder that small moments of connection—brief, imperfect, temporary—still carry healing power.

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👤 About the Author

Young Lee curates Cinematic Sanctuaries—a space for films that offer rest rather than answers. Through reflective writing on healing cinema from Japanese, Korean, and Western traditions, they explore how stories can become quiet places to recognize that small moments of warmth—even temporary, even brief—carry their own gentle power to help us continue through difficult days.

Read more articles from this author on Cinematic Sanctuaries.