Perfect Days

shadows that is created by leaves swaying in the wind. It only exists once, at that moment. A meditative slow burn that celebrates the mundanity of life through the eyes of a toilet cleaner, Perfect Days encapsulates the sublime beauty of simple living. Delicately helmed by German filmmaker Wim Wenders, this film follows the monotonous, tranquil routine of Hirayama, played by Koji Yakusho. Set in Tokyo, Perfect Days is both a hymn and a love letter to the Japanese maestro of filmmaking, Yasujiro Ozu. Being a character-centred work, we are with Hirayama from dawn to dusk. A loner toilet cleaner wakes up early as the sun rays gleam tangerine light; he brushes his teeth, trims moustaches, shaves, sprays water on his beloved plants, grabs a can of coffee, and heads to work in his van. The premise of the film is clean and smooth. Hirayam, content with his job as a toilet cleaner, approaches his work with the utmost dedication and discipline. He greets his mornings with an eye-crinkling warm smile and listens to vintage cassette tapes by musicians such as The Animals, The Velvet Underground, Patti Smith, Lou Reed, and, The Rolling Stones. A sensitive man who tears up and smiles widely to music, he is himself in the presence of music. Hirayama carries the Olympus film camera with him and takes photographs of rustling tree branches while having sandwiches in the garden. He stares and smiles at trees as if he is having a silent conversation with them. There’s a childlike innocence to his face that melts your heart. He reads books by authors such as William Faulkner, Patricia Highsmith, and Aya Koda at night before dozing off. Hirayama, a gentleman who is kind and empathetic to kids, women, and elders. He is an observer and a bystander in the city of Tokyo. Weird, quirky, and goofy supporting characters such as Ayo and his colleague Takashi strike a balance and emphasise Hirayama’s gentler traits. The camera in the film is handheld throughout, using the documentary approach. Shot in 4:3, the extreme close-ups and compact framing allow viewers to feel connected to Hirayama on an intimate level. Franz Lustig’s cinematography is breathtaking. The choice of repetitive shots of the daily routine is again very similar to what Ozu did in his films. There is little sound used other than foley and occasional music played by Hirayama on his cassettes. Yashuko makes Hirayama more personal with his eyes and simple gestures, adding depth to the character. Perfect Days may seem like a romanticised depiction of the working class. It’s incredibly clean and aesthetic, to be true. Nonetheless, it’s a visually refreshing take on embracing the shadows and lights of life. Although Hirayama is rarely seen speaking, his face, body language, and personality are emotive enough to make the character interesting. Hirayama, as a character, is revered for relishing small moments of joy. The dream montages at night add another atmospheric layer to the film. Grainy black-and-white images merging the highlighting moments of Hirayama’s day pry opens the internal life of this middle-aged man. We don’t know much about his past until his niece, Niko, is introduced. At this point, we can draw parallels to Ozu. Themes of modernity and letting go of the past become even more apparent. Niko discovers cassettes and takes photographs from her iPhone, while Hirayama has no clue about Spotify and uses film cameras. The name Hirayama is itself a pean to Ozu’s Hirayama family from Tokyo Story. Niko makes the inner child of Hirayama more prominent in the film; this is the time when Hirayama actually speaks. Through Niko, we discover that Hirayama has a complex relationship with his sister and father, though Wenders doesn’t let us know the details of this familial dynamic. We do get a hint that Hirayama’s sister comes from a wealthier background and looks down upon his job, causing Hirayama to question his lifestyle. They live in a completely different world, estranged from each other. There are no major conflicts in the story, which can make it boring for some. The only time a conflict is introduced in the film is during the conversation with Tomoyama. Hirayama, while figuring out whether the overlapping shadows get darker or stay the same, says, “It has to get darker to make sense! Nothing is changing after all. That’s just nonsense.” This scene implies that even though Hirayama feels satisfied with his lifestyle, he sometimes questions his choices and feels stuck, but Wenders beautifully resolves this conflict at the end of the film. The lyrics of Feeling Good by Anthony Newley and Leslie Bricusse say it all. Wenders, now old and having experienced life, gives a note to young people on how to live it. Hirayama as a character feels special and personal; he is everything I want to be when I am old. Perfect Days is an ephemeral experience of banal existence. It cherishes fleeting moments such as sunlight glinting through rustling leaves, shadow patterns reflecting on a ceiling, noticing strangers under traffic lights, a child licking the melting ice cream, an old man cycling through the streets of his hometown, a reader flipping pages of books in a library, and so on. This film is comforting and rejuvenating.