by Stela Malega
‘Perfect Days’ extends an invitation to the viewer to ponder how life might look if one surrenders to slowing down and, as cheesy as it sounds, being present. It’s one of those films that lingers in your mind after watching it, offering a slight nudge to reconsider and contemplate the images one has just seen before their eyes. Come closer, dear reader, and allow me to describe what sets this film apart.
What was initially supposed to become a documentary about Tokyo’s newly built public restrooms, designed by 16 architects, has instead blossomed into Wim Wenders’ ‘Perfect Days’ (Shibuya City, n.d.; MUBI Podcast, 2024). The film introduces the protagonist, Hirayama, a middle aged man who works as a toilet cleaner. This character was brought to life by Kōji Yakusho, whose striking performance alone draws the viewer in. ‘Perfect Days’ is unsubstantial in terms of the plot, although we are following Hirayama’s daily working routine; from the moment he wakes up to when he goes to sleep at night while reading a book under the light of his floor lamp. At dawn Hirayama wakes from the sound of the streetsweeper brushing the leaves on the ground – this sound substitutes the mechanical clock, instead he relies on this natural rhythm. As he gets ready for work, he shaves, trims his mustache and waters the plants he keeps on his veranda. When he gets out of the door, Hirayama welcomes the day with an exhale and directs a hopeful look at the sky. He then buys a coffee tin from the vending machine outside the house and gets inside his minivan. Before departing, Hirayama carefully chooses a cassette and plays it on his drive to work. Once at work, Hirayama dedicates his entire attention to cleaning the public restrooms. Calm, with a subtle smile under his freshly trimmed mustache, he is unresponsive to people’s rude actions. For example, when a drunk man stumbles and hits the sign that indicates ‘Cleaning in progress’, Hirayama stays quiet. In another instance Hirayama helps a crying child he found hiding in the toilet, find his mother. Agitated, the woman does not extend a “thank you” to Hirayama, instead hurriedly walks away with her child, who turns and waves in gratitude to him. When his colleague is late for the shift, Hirayama does not display overt annoyance or disapproval, instead shows him to his duties.
Early on, we catch on to the fact that Hirayama does not own a smartphone nor does he speak much or verbally interact with others. He prefers to stay quiet. While doing so, Hirayama looks at the world around him with intention, particularly observing trees and their shadows. In Japanese this phenomenon is known as “komorebi” – “the shimmering of light and shadows that is created by leaves swaying in the wind; it only exists once, in that moment” (Wenders, 2023). It’s worth noting that a character development arc is absent in this film, the protagonist is not trying to ‘become someone’ or ‘save’ anyone, as often portrayed by character arcs. Rather, as viewers we are invited to glimpse into his life and his way of looking at the world; gradually finding ourselves immersed in his perspective.
At this stage, you might be thinking to yourself, dear reader, “This film sounds rather boring.” And while you’re not entirely wrong, I would like to argue that it is probably one of the intentions Wim Wenders camouflaged in this film. It is an ‘unappealing’ routine yet it is rooted in the understanding of what it means to live perceptively, surrendering to the ‘now’ and living purposefully – something many of us forget to practice. Hirayama clearly opposes and even resists against modern seductions: he listens to cassettes (is innocently clueless as to what Spotify is), uses an analogue camera to capture that which he finds beauty in, purchases 1 dollar second-hand books; he does not show any interest in common luxuries or self-indulgent possessions. The director of this film, motivates his reasoning behind crafting a character like Hirayama stating
“During the pandemic I had constantly thought [about] how we all live afterwards. All of us thought life afterwards will be different, we will have learned, as societies somehow miraculously we’ll learn – we decide to live differently. And also with abundance, we’re able to handle abundance differently. Little did I know it was more reckless afterwards than before.” (AFI, 2024). This observation prompted Wenders to “say something about that and to make a movie about somebody who didn’t want to own more. And who didn’t believe in growth. He would buy one book in order to read that book and finish that book before he bought another book. And he’s not going and buying five.” (AFI, 2024).
And yet, despite the years that have gone since Covid-19, I can’t help but notice people falling prey to overconsumption, orchestrated largely on social media platforms, where hooking a user into watching short-form videos trying to persuade them into buying anything from books and the newest trendy clothes to the ultimate solution to anti-aging, shows to be the ultimate deception. 50 minutes later and a couple hundred reels aestheticising the life of a stranger on the internet, the user might start to notice feeling a sort of fatigue or what’s commonly known as “brain rot”.
In the book “All About Love”, bell hooks argues that people fill in their void of love with material desires. The author explains that with the new Protestant work ethic, people have decentered the value of love: “The good life was no longer to be found in community and connection, it was to be found in accumulation and the fulfillment of hedonistic, materialistic desire.” (bell hooks, 2018). Do you find this plausible, dear reader? Have we as humans strayed away from values such as love and connection that create the foundation of an enjoyable life?
While Hirayama seems to be directing love at those he interacts with (particularly trees, the sky and shimmering light), some might think that our protagonist is distant from his community, which I somewhat disagree with. Certainly, Hirayama is not an active member in the community because he keeps to himself and prefers to spend time alone. At the same time, Hirayama’s work is intrinsically tied to the larger community – contributing to the cleanliness of public toilets is in itself an act that benefits others. Apart from this, after his working hours end, he heads to a public bath house where he showers, then visits a diner where we quickly learn he’s one of the regular customers. Again, Hirayama interacts with other people at the diner not through his voice but through his facial expressions and nodding, all the while showing interest in them. Perhaps the role one plays in community can be extended to their own needs; perhaps it is possible to be someone who cares for their community while also caring for the individual of the self.
Dear reader, are you still with me? As you read these lines, I wonder what goes on inside of you, on your end of this text. Are you sitting down, crouching over your electronic device, feeling a hint of tension creeping inside your shoulders? What are you surrounded by? Human chatter? Quiet? Chances are, you might be squirming at this banal, overdone call to ‘mindfulness’. And yet, how does it feel to notice that which encompasses you throughout?
This is what ‘Perfect Days’ strives to instill in the audience. It seemingly raises the question “Am I truly conscious of living in this particular moment?” The film acts as a mirror to one’s own tendencies of distraction. More than that, it leaves one wondering how much of our lives are lived within reasonable boundaries, as Wim Wenders hoped we would after the pandemic. We need to learn how to deal with the abundance of our world. How much value do we attribute to our possessions? Are we forever destined to perpetuate the vicious and destructive cycle of a consumerist driven capitalist system? While these questions must be posed for each of us individually, this film about a quiet janitor loudly proclaims an answer: the cycle can be broken, and we would all be better off for it.
Even though Hirayama’s routine hardly ever changes, seeing this character’s way of living is a meditative experience. On one occasion, Hirayama finds a note tucked away in one of the toilets, depicting the game Tic-Tac-Toe. At first, he disposes of it in the rubbish bag, but at the end of his shift Hirayama is suddenly reminded of this piece of paper. He takes it out of the plastic bag, and marks his move on the cross table with an ‘O’, then places the piece of paper back where he found it. The following day, the owner of the note replies back with ‘X’ marking their action; and although strangers, they end up playing Tic-Tac-Toe by exchanging this note. In an interview, actor Kōji Yakusho reflects on Hirayama’s actions by saying “Hirayama really acts in a way that is so devoid of greed that it’s almost embarrassing to see him because we tend to compare ourselves, and we live with much more, you know material possessions than him. And have this sort of need for material things, but not him.” (Q With Tom Power, 2024).
Similarly to Wim Wenders, I still wonder: when will it have been enough? When will we reclaim the way we interact with the world around us in both virtual and physical realms? Dear reader, as it is almost May when I finished writing this essay, I am hoping this text inspires you to take a walk in search of komorebi.
References
AFI. (2024). PERFECT DAYS Writer/Director/Producer Wim Wenders in Conversation. YouTube; American Film Institute. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=loTbStInMaY
hooks, bell. (2018). All about love: New Visions. William Morrow Paperbacks. (Original work published 2000)
MUBI Podcast. (2024). PERFECT DAYS – Wim Wenders cures his post-pandemic blues | MUBI Podcast. YouTube; MUBI. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GsY0h0pBzD0
Perfect Days. (2023). [FILMGRAB]. https://film-grab.com/2024/04/12/perfect-days/#
Q With Tom Power. (2024). Kōji Yakusho on finding happiness in simplicity, Perfect Days, and working with Wim Wenders. YouTube; Q With Tom Power. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5GliCcgSbA8&t=28s
Shibuya City. (n.d.). The Tokyo Toilet: Public toilets in Shibuya like you’ve never seen. The Tokyo Toilet. https://tokyotoilet.jp/en/
Wenders, W. (Director). (2023). Perfect Days [Video recording]. Camera Film, Bitters End, Inc.
Stela Malega is a graduate of International Social Work with a specialisation in community development. Her subjects of interest include feminism, social justice and media culture. She is also enthusiastic about film, photography and interacting critically with these forms of expression.
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