What makes Wim Wenders’ Perfect Days such an uplifting experience? Audiences worldwide were touched by what would seem a most unlikely subject for a feature film — we simply share time with Hirayama, a fellow who services a group of public toilets in a prefecture of central Tokyo. Given no verbal explanations, we observe Hirayama’s daily routine, but also see how he manages a fulfilling life while doing what many would call a demeaning job. He performs his duties as if lives were depending on him. It’s more than just ‘a job done well’ — Hirayama’s lifestyle of service has a positive effect on his outlook.
The movie is something of a wonderment … half an hour in, after no melodramatic events or dramatic crises, we feel as if just a couple of minutes have elapsed. Hirayama has helped a little kid find his mother, observed a dignified homeless man and made contact with the few people he sees on a daily basis. He listens to his collection of 1980s cassette tapes and buys books from the dollar bin.
Observing Hirayama at work is not like the purposely monotonous ‘real time’ head-scratcher Jeanne Dielmann. Our cleaner is very much alive and alert. He steps out of his rooms with a little smile in the morning, buys his ‘Boss’ coffee drink from a vending machine and sets off in his little blue van. His clean ‘Tokyo Toilet’ boiler suit has a utility belt laden with extra tools he has chosen to improve his work. He’s fastidious in his movements as he makes the lavatories spotless. These modern facilities are nothing like what we have in the States. In my experience in California, most public rest stops are unmaintained and in horrendous condition.
Criterion’s extras explain that a grant for the 2020 Olympics commissioned 17 showcase public toilets for Shibuya prefecture, each designed by a different name architect. The COVID epidemic delayed the games by a year, and even then it was without the spectators meant to discover the futuristic public facilities. Instead, Wim Wenders says that the locals adopted the rest stops. The neighborhood homeless appreciated and took care of them. Many communal efforts are successful in Japan, and these ‘civil artworks’ didn’t fall prey to abuse or vandalism.
Wenders explains that his movie was inspired by the pandemic experience: we hoped that the crisis would bring communities together and make citizens feel more interdependent. Instead, the opposite happened — many places went into self-directed survival mode, becoming more selfish and less open to helping one another. Wenders was invited to tour the Tokyo Toilet project for a possible documentary, as was the international press. Remember the TV news features about public bathrooms made of transparent glass, that turned opaque-private at the flip of a switch? What Wenders noted in Tokyo was a feeling of communal cooperation, something he says was lacking back home in Germany.
Wenders turned down the documentary idea and instead made this feature film, that would show the toilets in passing but attempt a different kind of fiction documentary, with a character written by himself and Takuma Takasaki. Stepping up to play Hirayama was Kôji Yakusho, one of Japan’s most respected actors. Western audiences remember him 30 years ago in Masayuki Suo’s romantic drama Shall We Dance. Wenders’ cast employs some fresh faces (Aoi Yamada) and actors with years of experience (Tokio Emoto). A homeless man seen mostly in long shot, is played by a famous Japanese dancer, Min Tanaka.
Hirayama’s ‘observed days’ see him greeting each morning and paying full attention to everything he experiences. The direction stresses his simple wonderment at things like sunlight, trees, and anything natural. He cultivates little plants in his spare time. He’s thoughtful of others, just for the sake of being thoughful.
‘Busy’ seems to be Hirayama’s secret. He’s organized but not obsessed. He is a loner, and speaks very little, yet doesn’t avoid personal interaction. He communicates a lot with his smiling eyes. He is patient and tolerant of others. His flaky co-cleaner Takashi (Tokio Emoto) does the bare minimum of work, complains, and hits up Hirayama for loans. They meet Aya (Aoi Yamada), a young club girl. She takes petty advantage of the girl-struck Takashi but shows a bit of affection for the much older Hirayama.
Our hero also has a tiny bit of interaction with a girl he sees eating lunch in the park, and he likes to talk with a pleaant, chatty bar owner. She shepherds her regulars, the same way Hirayama’s favorite fast food cook makes sure that a (mentally challenged?) customer doesn’t cause trouble. How lonely is Hirayama? Apparently not so much that he can’t cope.
Hirayama takes everyone at face value. Street people and the disabled use the fancy facilities — people that might have no place they can call their own. When he takes a small boy’s hand to lead him back to his mother, nobody’s worried that he will be confused with a predator.
A few complications set in when Hirayama takes in his niece for a few days, Niko (Arisa Nakano). → The particulars of this family business would be a spoiler, and the disturbance to Hirayama’s attitude-equilibrium is enough to bring him to tears. Yet his internal compass re-rights itself, leading to an ending we call the ‘Cabiria Effect.’ Explaining that is a bit of a spoiler so be wary. *
The movie presents a glowing image of this part of Tokyo, a sparkling-clean prefecture threaded by intimidating multilevel freeways, yet where Hirayama can seemingly travel anywhere he wants in safe bike lanes. Nobody steals his bicycle when it is parked unlocked. The old Tokyo Tower (the one preferred by our favorite chrysalides) is now hemmed in by skyscrapers, and a huge thing called the Tokyo Sky Tree is the new central landmark. Perfect Days is not a ‘ City Symphony‘ movie, but it has some of the same qualities. It ends up being more of a lifestyle meditation; we can tell that Hirayama has chosen his job on purpose, as a dropout from some other kind of work. He thrives on the freedom it gives him. He has his 40 year-old cassette tapes, his books, his trees and the sky, and his peace of mind.
Next time is next time, Now is now.
Hirayama and Niko exchange a few thoughts on what’s important and what’s not, but no titles pop up telling us to ‘Stop and Smell the Roses.’ Wenders’ film is an inspirational item about an individual in a certain situation in a particular city; it doesn’t suggest we change our lifestyle, abandon our relatives or seek Nirvana through menial labor. Its only political message is that a city can be a non-hostile, cooperative place. If Perfect Days moves some audiences to tears, it’s likely because we live in upscale chaos, with social support infrastructures that don’t function as well as they should. In real terms, there must be a billion human beings deprived of even the chance of earning a living wage, of claiming a minimum of dignified control over their lives. That doesn’t diminish the film’s impact and worth. One guy in Tokyo seems to be getting along okay.
Certain aspects of the show come straight from Wim Wenders’ auteur preferences. Among the songs by The Animals, Nina Simone and Otis Redding, is Lou Reed with a title tune. When Hirayama interacts with strangers, he talks little but has all of his senses on Alert. His calm, soothing, and non-judgmental stance occasionally makes him resemble one of Wenders’ ‘Angels over Berlin’ from Wings of Desire.
Then there are Hirayama’s expressive dreams, visions in a charcoal-y B&W that remind us of a Weimar-era expressionist film. Hirayama dreams of faces and textures and especially sunlight reflected from water or filtered through a canopy of tree leaves. The brief, silent dream visions remind us very much of the ‘memory visions’ from Wenders’ Until the End of the World.
I should think Perfect Days could shown in a prison auditorium, and the convicts would welcome its appeal to our better natures, to the notion of sanity and proportion returning to the chaos we know as daily reality. Wim Wenders said that the restrictions of the COVID year made him think of living more simply. His movie isn’t some Hallmark Card ditty with a bite-sized message; it simply encourages us to feel good about people.
