The more intricate and menacing the external world appears, the more we feel compelled to guard the boundaries of our personal spheres. Whether you engage with social media or not, there’s a pervasive sense that you’re navigating contemporary existence incorrectly if you’re not streamlining your living space, downsizing your wardrobe to a minimalist beige collection, or incorporating moments of meditation into your hectic routine. The pressure to embrace a simplistic lifestyle can feel overwhelming.
A remedy to this overwhelming pressure can be found in Wim Wenders’ film, “Perfect Days,” a cinematic masterpiece akin to a gentle breeze. The remarkable Japanese actor, Koji Yakusho, portrays Hirayama, a man whose identity initially seems intertwined with his occupation: maintaining public restrooms in Tokyo. Each day, he dons a blue jumpsuit bearing the inscription “The Tokyo Toilet,” retrieves his keys and flip phone from a narrow shelf in his modest apartment, and embarks on his daily rounds across the city. Even to residents of bustling metropolises like New York, the facilities under Hirayama’s care likely appear pristine from the start. Nevertheless, he meticulously polishes mirrors to a brilliant shine, wipes down faucets and handles with precision, and scrutinizes every inch of a toilet’s underside using a small mirror to ensure thorough cleanliness.
Hirayama’s commitment to his job is not merely about fulfilling his duties; it holds a deeper significance to him. Moreover, his workday transcends mere labor. During his lunch break in a public park, he appreciates the intricate patterns of leaves dancing against the sky, perhaps capturing the moment with a small camera he carries. While driving to work and between restroom visits, his compact van resonates with music emanating from the cassette deck. Whether it’s the Animals’ “House of the Rising Sun” or the Velvet Underground’s “Pale Blue Eyes,” the songs never play to completion—there’s a time for music and a time for restroom maintenance. As Hirayama arrives at his next destination, the singers’ voices abruptly fade, leaving their narratives suspended midstream.
“Perfect Days,” nominated for an Academy Award in the Best category, may initially seem like a simple encouragement to savor the present moment and find joy in seemingly mundane tasks. While this summary is not inaccurate, reducing the film to this essence risks oversimplifying its delicate and profoundly moving essence. Wenders, who co-wrote the script with Takuma Takasaki, is a filmmaker whose work demands attention. His 1987 film, “Wings of Desire,” set against the backdrop of the impending fall of the Berlin Wall, follows an angel, portrayed by the soulfully expressive Bruno Ganz, who yearns to experience human life after observing it from a celestial vantage point above Berlin. This film resonated deeply with a generation, capturing the restlessness and longing believed to be unique to the youth of the Reagan era, though it was a universal sentiment. While not all of Wenders’ films have achieved the same impact, his documentaries like the 2011 “Pina” and the recent “Anselm,” both presented in 3D, showcase his daring spirit and keen eye for evocative storytelling.
Unlike his previous works, “Perfect Days” diverges from a strict narrative structure. However, it exudes a quintessentially Wenders-esque quality, as the filmmaker adeptly uncovers joy in the most unexpected places. Yakusho’s performance is a perfect complement to the film. Although immensely popular in Japan, international audiences may recognize him from the 1996 art house success, “Shall We Dance,” or Takashi Miike’s 2010 samurai epic, “13 Assassins.” In this film, Yakusho’s portrayal relies heavily on nonverbal communication, emphasizing his character’s capacity to listen and understand rather than merely react. As Hirayama steps out into the world each day, he greets it with a serene, inquisitive smile, attuned to the subtle cues from nature and fellow human beings that we too should heed. Amidst our personal distractions and commotion, “Perfect Days” suggests that we can rediscover this lost ability to connect with our surroundings.
The underlying truth of “Perfect Days” lies in its acknowledgment that perfection is an illusion; each day possesses its own unique essence. The interplay of leaves against the sky constantly shifts, influenced by the ever-changing hues of the atmosphere due to weather and seasonal variations. Frequently, Hirayama’s carefree colleague, Takashi, portrayed with chaotic charm by Tokio Emoto, arrives late or abruptly resigns without notice, eliciting visible frustration from Hirayama. He is neither a saint nor a pushover.
Despite Hirayama’s solitary pursuits of reading in the evenings and tending to his plants with tenderness in the mornings, he remains attuned to those who cross his path. Aya (Aoi Yamada), a barmaid with a striking Louise Brooks-inspired hairstyle, captures the attention of Takashi and discovers the enchanting allure of Patti Smith’s “Redondo Beach” on one of Hirayama’s tapes, instantly falling under its spell—a response that aligns her with Hirayama and, perhaps, with us. While Hirayama initially appears as a perennial loner, he does have familial connections. When his teenage niece, Niko (Arisa Nakano), unexpectedly arrives after running away from home, glimpses of Hirayama’s enigmatic past emerge, yet much about him remains shrouded in mystery beyond his present reality.
In “Perfect Days,” the essence lies in embracing the present moment. On Hirayama’s day off—the sole occasion he wears a watch, leaving it safely at home on workdays—he cycles to a quaint bookstore for fresh reading material. The proprietor recognizes him and shares insightful observations about authors like Patricia Highsmith or mid-century Japanese novelist Aya Kōda. As evening approaches, he pedals to a cozy restaurant where the hostess, familiar with him, offers complimentary drinks while other patrons grumble about the charges. Later, she serenades in Japanese, her rendition of “House of the Rising Sun” resonating with melancholic beauty, leaving us yearning for more, even as the melody fades away.
The film subtly suggests that our pursuit of closure—be it in a song, a movie, or an ordinary day—may lead us astray. “Perfect Days,” borrowing its title from one of Lou Reed’s most poignant songs, underscores the quest for meaning in the mundane facets of daily life, unveiling the profound truth that life’s true essence lies in the everyday moments we often overlook.