Perfect Days: A Testament to Life’s Simple Pleasures

No Cannes ‘In-Competition’ premiere experience is complete without the obligatory 4-hour minimum wait in the last-minute line for those of us not lucky enough to seize a ticket; the only possibility of granting the hopes of being able to snag a seat as a seat-filler in the presence of the film’s esteemed creators and cast, and this film was no exception. The seemingly-endless wait comes with the great gamble of whether or not the wait was worth it, and while it may not always be, Wim Wenders’ Perfect Days certainly was for me. Instantly, it became my favorite of the festival and one that I’d willingly endure another four-hour wait for.

The film follows Hirayama (Koji Yakusho) as he lives his simple life- working as a custodian, taking pictures of trees, going to his favorite bar for a drink, and meticulously scrubbing himself at the communal baths, and then repeats this sequence throughout the majority of the movie. At a slow pace, the film allows for deep-characterization of Hirayama through his everyday behaviors alone. Using the first hour to set up Hirayama’s character as deliberate, careful, observational, and appreciative, we watch as he thoughtfully spends his time setting up and putting away his mattress each day and night, allocating the perfect amount of water to each of his plants, and intently cleaning the public restrooms around Tokyo, even using a small mirror to clean the surfaces impossible to see as another endeavor for perfection. Despite the repeated depiction of Hirayama’s seemingly-mundane life, one that he lives out in the claims of being a string of ‘perfect days’, this cycle never grows tiresome as Yakusho’s performance keeps the audience engaged in an exploration of his character and his infatuation with the world. He remarkably expresses emotions through a primarily dialogue-free performance, utilizing a sweet smile, and long, lingering looks of admiration towards nature, the city, and people around him to convey his sensitive, affectionate persona. 

In this way, the film invites the audience to share Hirayama’s appreciation of the beauty of daily life, using masterfully-crafted cinematography to capture his perspective. The film features several intricate and yet peaceful shots illustrating Tokyo’s beauty, ranging from the natural allure of the trees to the individual artistry of even the public restrooms. In this way, the film offers an appreciative nod to Japanese infrastructure and architecture, as detailed (and entirely handheld!) shots of the unique restrooms cleaned depict the city’s real-life initiative to promote hospitality. Tokyo Toilets, the company Hirayama works for in the film, has recently finalized a pursuit to hire local artists in redesigning 17 Tokyo public restrooms that more closely follow the country’s culture of appreciation for cleanliness and respect, and consequently support the film’s themes of making art of the banal things in life. These restrooms are works of art themselves, featuring state-of-the-art technology, as well as a variety of architectural styles and colors that make a film primarily centered around cleaning restrooms a more enjoyable watch.

Through Hirayama’s meticulously crafted daily routine, it is easy to partake in his appreciation of daily life, down to the smallest detail. One sequence that I particularly enjoyed was a moment shared by Hirayama and his niece Niko (Arisa Nakano) in their joint admiration of the specks of sunlight slipping between the crevices of leaves on the trees they sit under as they eat their lunch together. In this moment of appreciation, they both take out their cameras to capture the world’s natural beauty, and it is this act that displays generational differences rooted in an act of shared connection. Hirayama uses a film camera as Niko uses her phone’s camera, and although the characters don’t quite understand the workings of each others’ cameras, they share the action of memorializing a moment. This acts as a demonstration of the difference in how the youth vs. older generations embrace the world, but additionally represents the charm in congruent appreciation of the world’s allure. The film further extends the depth of this relationship through Niko’s use of an older camera gifted to her by Hirayama as he passes down his craft, possibly providing an analysis of the branching between generations as appreciation of the past through preservation in the present is exemplified through her use of both cameras. 

In a primarily quiet film, the brilliant soundtrack provides more characterization as well as an audible depiction of a ‘perfect’ world as the film utilizes a smooth, cheerful selection of songs from the 60’s and 70’s, featuring The Rolling Stones, The Kinks, and Patti Smith among several others. It was not surprising, and frankly slightly too on-the-nose to hear Lou Reed’s Perfect Day featured as well, but since the song exemplified the film’s beauty so well, I was able to ignore initial discontent towards the song choice. In conjunction with poetic imagery of the city, the song served as another source of validity that everyday can be viewed as a perfect day, a perspective that Yakusho’s performance urges the audience to share throughout the film. However, the film encroaches on a problematic use of western-focused music selection that may be uncharacteristic for the likes of middle-aged Japanese men through the use of these primarily British and American artists. The film is flecked with Japanese songs, but these too are limited to Sachiko Kanenobu’s Aoi Sakana, and a Japanese rendition of House of the Rising Sun that in conjunctive use with the rest of the soundtrack, don’t fully encapsulate the special qualities of life in Japan from an audible perspective. Although I do believe there should’ve been more Japanese representation in the music, the amiable soundtrack was illustrative of Hirayama’s pure joy as his appreciation of each song, through his careful cassette choice and rewinding routine, translated to his appreciation of the world. 

Although the film can be seen as long or repetitive, I believe it these are the elements that are so necessary to truly illustrate the film’s intentional representation of appreciation of every element of daily life, as normal routines of life too are long and repetitive. Through a brilliant performance that promotes engagement in finding beauty in the mundane alongside Hirayama, the film has little narrative or dialogue, and has no need of it as it beautifully embarks on a slice-of-life tale that makes even the most simplistic string of activities so enjoyable to engage in that they can be deemed the events of a ‘perfect day’.