By Johnny Hill
Perhaps there was no better place to see German auteur Wim Wenders’ meditative new film Perfect Days than the comforting warmth of the anachronistic Astor theatre in St Kilda.
Just like the familiar and aged theatre, Perfect Days presents the lifestyle of someone truly settled into their everyday routine. In the introspective two-hour film, we follow the life of Hirayama, a toilet cleaner in the high-tech city of Tokyo who lives a simple and routine life, seemingly unaffected by the big city around him but also influenced by every small facet of life in it at the same time.
For about the first hour of the film, Wenders shows what it truly means when a filmmaker trusts their audience. To settle into the same routine as Hirayama, Wenders and cinematographer Franz Lustig’s camera shots linger on the mundane details of everyday life. We watch Hirayama get out of bed, shave, get dressed, drive to work, and clean toilets. Whilst interspersed with some diegetic classic rock music to show the audience that Hirayama is still a complex human, as we all are, this first hour of the film features barely any dialogue and no fast-paced action. Instead, it is carried by a masterful performance from veteran actor Kōji Yakusho (Cure, Tampopo), who acts with graceful subtlety, depicting what it is like to be a simple person on the surface, but also brimming with nuance and feeling.
This is where Perfect Days succeeds superbly: by depicting a seemingly content character whilst still hinting at a hidden melancholy under the surface. Little by little the audience is drip fed entryways into Hirayama’s psyche, whether it be through his love of music and literature, his interactions with boisterous younger co-worker Takashi, his going out of the way to assist people, or his simple joy in continuing a noughts and crosses game he finds in one of the bathrooms. In such ways, we learn about Hirayama through the environment around him, and potential messages of the film are gradually revealed. In one pleasing scene, we see Hirayama help a young child find their mother. Although the mother ignores Hirayama’s assistance – perhaps commenting on the overlooked nature of those who work underrecognized jobs such as cleaning toilets – we see the young child wave and acknowledge Hirayama, who seems glad to have helped – perhaps contrastingly showing the innocence and joy of children, who acknowledge anyone no matter who they are. We also often see Hirayama head to the same break spot for lunch each day and take a photo of a towering tree, one described as his ‘friend’ in a later scene.
After a while of this repetition, Wenders introduces some turbulence into Hirayama’s peaceful life. Niko, his niece to an estranged sister, runs away from home and joins Hirayama, who seems pleased to house her. Between the youthful Niko and the aged Hirayama, Wenders portrays an innocent clash of young and old. On the young side, a humorous scene between the pair depicts the knowledge of the youth over the old in regard to new technologies, with Niko asking Hirayama if a song he likes is on Spotify, to which he responds by asking if Spotify is a town he can visit. On the reverse, Wenders also portrays the wisdom of older generations, such as in a moving scene where Hirayama tells Niko that, “Now is now. Next time is next time,” which Niko seems to take to heart.
Note: plot details from Perfect Days final third beyond this point
After a joyful few days with Niko, who tags along with Hirayama to his toilet-cleaning, Hirayama’s sister arrives to pick Niko up. This is first where we see an obvious sign of melancholy in Hirayama’s life, as he is reminded of his fathers’ Alzheimer’s disease and his estrangement from his sister, who expresses disbelief at his job. After Niko goes home with her mother, we see Hirayama crying and troubled – Hirayama’s life is no longer, and perhaps never was, as peaceful and calm as it seemed.
This trouble furthers for Hirayama. Takashi quits, forcing Hirayama to work overtime and be without his light-hearted companionship. Hirayama also sees his usual hangout spots change – his regular bar turns from quiet and warm to packed and cold, his showering place shuts down, his dinner place closes, and the owner turns from a friend to distant. Increasingly distressed, the audience sees the reality of Hirayama’s life, and the impact of time on it. Wenders’ shows us that not everything can stay the same forever, unlike a tree immortalised in a picture, and that even for the seemingly most joyful people, time has a large impact. After a poignant conversation with a cancer patient that weaves from nihilistic despair to childish joy, we see the full extent of the strain of time on Hirayama. In an extraordinarily-well acted final scene, Hirayama drives across the streets of Tokyo and listens to his favourite music in his van, running through the full spectrum of human emotions on his face as it morphs from laughter to joy to sadness.
Wenders has excelled in Perfect Days. Rather than creating a wholesome crowd pleaser, he shows the full extent of human life. How even the most content people suffer from periods of deep darkness. How time moves us all in its unending flow. In every peaceful existence comes sadness, and instead of brooding on it, Wenders celebrates every emotion and force in the world that makes us human, positive or not, for young and for old.
Perfect Days recently screened at the Melbourne International Film Festival and will receive a theatrical release in Australia in 2024. Interested in writing a review of anything in exchange for a free ticket? Just fill out this form or send us an email at unimelbfilmsoc@gmail.com.
MELBOURNE UNIVERSITY FILM INQUIRER 