Director: Wim Wenders
Writers: Takuma Takasaki and Wim Wenders
Stars: Koji Yakusho, Tokio Emoto, Arisa Nakano
Synopsis: A janitor in Japan drives between jobs listening to rock music.
Wim Wenders welcomed two films into his oeuvre in 2023. The first one is a documentary, Anselm, about the life and achievements of artist Anselm Kiefer. Ironically enough, he also jokingly referred to the second, a fictional film titled Perfect Days, as a documentary work. In many ways, it’s understandable to make the claim. The film follows the quiet Hirayama (Koji Yakusho), a man who cleans public toilets in Tokyo. Through a magnificently internal performance by Yakusho, it’s clear that Hirayama has held this position for quite some time. His morning ritual, however mundane, borders on ritualistic. Yet, every time he takes a step out of the door, he shines a smile to the sky above. With a proud attention to detail, he treats each cleaning job with the same level of rigor and care. His subordinate, a young adult more interested in his phone, makes it clear that he doesn’t have to take his job so seriously. Yet Hirayama has clearly been at this for quite some time, and seems to enjoy that routine day in and day out. And it’s in this routine that the beauty of Wenders’ film reveals itself.
The rut of the routine. It’s something that many people often feel trapped within. Sometimes it can be a dreadful commute, or the simple thought of not having enough time in one’s day after the responsibilities of life. Whatever the case may be, more often than not, it can be understandably draining. To yearn for something different, and hopefully better, is wholly understandable. But watching Perfect Days, it feels as if Wenders’ film insists that we look on the brighter side for even a moment. Personally, it’s the exact type of film that encourages us to try and be better. A large part of that relies on the confidently slow direction. But the entire crux of the film falls right on the shoulders of Yakusho’s performance, one which deservedly won Best Actor at Cannes this past year.
The first hour of the film essentially boils down to sequencing that’s clearly inspired by Chantal Akerman’s film, Jeanne Dielman, 23, quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles. While Hirayama has certainly held and excelled at this job for a while, he seems deeply content. And although it may beckon the viewer to wonder just how he ended up in the position he finds himself in, more likely than not, it doesn’t really matter. What does matter is that Hirayama serves as a vessel through which the audience can make better sense of the world around us. And it sure helps that Hirayama seems to be a beloved member of his community, even if we get the sense that most of the people he interacts with don’t know much about him. Some might begin to wonder if Hirayama is deeply lonely, but the performance on display does an astonishing job at hiding any such emotion. To internalize one’s loneliness can be a dangerous decision, but if it’s the product of doing something we love, Perfect Days questions whether or not such a decision is the correct one. And it’s here that Perfect Days fully transforms into a mirror for the audience to reflect rather than strictly cinematic storytelling.
Speaking from personal experience as a New Yorker who has commuted nearly his entire young adult and adult life, it can be deeply mundane. And that’s on the best of days. Mass transit in New York can often be an absolute nightmare, and what feels like facing an uphill battle every morning and late afternoon takes a toll both mentally and physically. Paired alongside hobbies and personal responsibilities, the idea that we spend more time working and sleeping than we do actually enjoying life begins to feel more and more like a startling reality; And it’s one that feels inescapable. So what do we do? Perfect Days asks us to look for the beauty that’s not even hidden. In fact, it’s right there in plain sight. Hirayama even goes so far as to abstractly capture it with a small camera. Boxes full of photos and stocked shelves in his small home are evidence of a life well-lived. Many of the photographs he’s taken, and not ripped up upon development, are stored in labeled boxes stacked high and deeply. His shelves are lined with rows upon rows of cheap, yet impactful, novels and unassuming, yet rare, cassette tapes. His home is indicative of a man who lives in the world of analog. By that, I mean to say he lives in a world where tangible items appear to make the most sense. To him, Spotify is a deeply foreign concept. So the fact that Hirayama is still able to find so much energy to push forward based purely off the intangibles of his life is inspiring.
In the moments we feel most lost, Perfect Days displays some simple, yet effective, exercises as a reminder to cherish the path we’re taking. Hirayama occasionally sees a familiar face, but he also encounters countless strangers for brief moments. And it’s impossible to deny his wondering of what the lives they lead must be like. One of the most delightful films of the year doesn’t ever shy away from the hidden stories within all of us. Wenders’ film captures the notion that whether or not others realize we impact each other in a myriad of ways, our impact is absorbed and accepted on a subconscious level. We’re all here, living our own stories and lives full of memories, emotions, and more. And should we happen to cross the path of another, even if for a moment, perhaps we should follow the path in front of us and see where it leads. That exciting mystery, the idea that anything could happen any day we wake up, is what Perfect Days so silently captures; and it’s pure bliss.
