Kore-eda Explores Grief Through Humanoid AI

Sheep in the Box, written and directed by Hirokazu Kore-eda, screened in Competition at the Cannes Film Festival, where it opened to a range of critical responses. The plot centers on Otone and Kensuke Komoto, portrayed by Haruka Ayase and Daigo, who receive an offer from a company called REBirth to take a rented humanoid modeled after their deceased seven-year-old son, Kakeru, played by Rimu Kuwaki (reporting in Deadline and The Hollywood Reporter). The film runs roughly 2 hours 6 minutes (The Hollywood Reporter) and mixes Kore-eda's family-focused naturalism with near-future sci-fi touches such as delivery drones and domestic humanoids (Deadline, Screen Rant).

Reporting describes the REBirth product as a rented, lifelike humanoid intended to help bereaved families reconnect with lost loved ones; Deadline quotes the company offer as a "complimentary rental of our latest edition humanoid." The movie frames the humanoid as physically and behaviorally evocative of the dead child but stops short of presenting technical implementation details, instead using the device to stage ethical and emotional questions around memory, replacement, and closure (Deadline, ScreenRant).

Industry reviewers diverged on whether Kore-eda's humanist style adapts well to speculative premises. The Hollywood Reporter called the film "drippy," finding its thematic threads "treacly and insubstantial," while Deadline praised it as a "strange but thoughtful" and "dreamlike" study of loss that resembles Kore-eda's earlier forays into the fantastic, such as After Life (The Hollywood Reporter, Deadline). Screen Daily described the movie as "scattershot" and "syrupy," and Screen Rant highlighted its prompt to consider whether humanoid companions can help grieving families, noting the film's cautious, low-tempo approach (Screen Daily, Screen Rant).

For practitioners tracking cultural representations of AI, the film is notable for treating a humanoid product as a consumer-facing, rented service rather than a lab-bound prototype. That framing mirrors current commercial narratives about AI-as-service and commodified companionship, even though the movie does not depict underlying model architectures, data practices, or safety constraints in technical terms. Industry observers will find the film useful as a case study in how mainstream cinema translates technical concepts into ethical metaphors.

Multiple outlets singled out the performances, especially the debut work of Rimu Kuwaki, which Deadline called one of three "extraordinary performances" anchoring the film. Critics agreed that Kore-eda's restraint and focus on domestic detail remain central, but they differed on whether the director achieves emotional payoff: some reviewers praised the film's quietness and dreamlike qualities, while others found its pacing and thematic diffusion undermining (Deadline, The Hollywood Reporter, Screen Rant).

Observers should follow festival awards and early festival-to-audience reactions to see whether critical ambivalence translates into broader acclaim or limited commercial traction. Also watch subsequent coverage for any quoted statements from Kore-eda or producers about the film's intent; at present, reportage focuses on critics' readings rather than production-side explanations (Deadline, The Hollywood Reporter). Finally, note whether filmmakers and studios continue to present humanoid companions in rental/service terms, as that language shapes public understanding of AI agency and commercialization.

The film reinforces a recurring pattern in cultural depictions of AI: stories emphasize human relationships and ethical dilemmas while abstracting or eliding technical specifics. That pattern matters because public discourse about AI governance, regulation, and product design is often shaped by narrative framings that prioritize emotion and ethics over operational detail.