Recommendation: 4/5 Stars, SHOWTIME  

Plot: “Hirayama cleans public toilets in Tokyo, lives his life in simplicity and daily tranquility. Some encounters also lead him to reflect on himself.” -IMDB

Review: My idea of perfection has evolved significantly over the last twenty years. Straight out of college, I assume happiness would be found in a big modern house, a new car every five years, a career defined by notoriety, a bank account bursting at the seams, a loving partner, and perhaps a few kids to call my own.  

As I kick and scream my way into the midway point of my years (I hope), perfection is now a roof overhead, things that give me joy, experiences that add value to my life, a career that gives me purpose and ample space to make a difference, enough money to feel comfortable, opportunities to travel, and a loving and supportive partner.  

My idea of perfection has morphed to meet the realities of my life. This sort of perfection now feels attainable. Knowing this, I am not sure I would have appreciated co-writer and director Wim Wenders’ “Perfect Days” as a younger man. But now, as a forty-year-old man searching for a new form of perfection, it makes perfect sense.  

This film centers itself on Hirayama (Kôji Yakusho). Every day, Hirayama rises with the sun and to the sound of a neighbor sweeping the street and sidewalk. He methodically folds his bed, waters his treasured plants, and brushes his teeth. Before leaving, he shoves a few personal items, including a camera, into his pockets. He greets each new day with a smile, grabs a coffee to go, and as the sun crests over Tokyo, he carefully selects a cassette tape, and then heads for work.  

Much of this film is about finding joy in modest and simple living. This is evident in the smile Hirayama greets each day before heading to work. This is also a film about finding pride in your job. Some might assume this is an impossible task when your work is cleaning public restrooms in busy Tokyo. In these moments, Hirayama defies our expectations. His work is a reflection of himself. It represents an amalgamation of all he is. I found a lot to appreciate in these moments, and much to think about when considering the more mundane aspects of my work.  

While watching the quiet beauty of this film unfold for the first 45 minutes, you might ask yourself the same question I did. “Where will the conflict in this story come from?” We’ve been conditioned to believe that all stories require some form of conflict. Our characters must rise to meet some moment, or this may be nothing more than a story about a solitary man who finds joy in a job done well.  

 When the conflict finally presents itself, it meets the emotional core of what we have experienced thus far. It first comes in the form of an employee who doesn’t show the same level of care for his work as Hirayama. Then conflict comes from an unexpected break in routine. Next, this is followed by an unexpected visitor, Niko (Arisa Nakano), Hirayama’s niece. When pulled together, we finally begin to question why Hirayama spends so much time alone. Up to this point, we have grown to respect and honor the meditative solitude of his life, but it is at these moments that we begin to wrestle with the trauma that may have forced this condition.  

This film could have made a tonal shift in these moments, but it stays true to itself and the path we have traveled. Things are left unsaid. Moments between Hirayama, Niko, and her mother are allowed to linger. We never get a clear picture (this includes the purpose of the photos Hirayama takes). To make this choice as a filmmaker is a hard one. Audiences so often demand closure. They like stories tied up in neat little packages. Wim Wender refuses that urge and pressure. Instead, he allows the camera to focus on the main character as tears stream down his face. Then he asks us to question perfection.

Be good to each other,  

Nathan