Ever had one of those days where everything just... flows? You wake up, the sun hits your face just right, your coffee tastes like ambrosia, and even the most mundane tasks feel strangely satisfying? That, my friends, is a little glimpse of what Wim Wenders' new film, Perfect Days, is all about. But instead of focusing on some high-flying executive or daring artist, Wenders turns his lens on a Tokyo toilet cleaner. Yes, you read that right. And it's absolutely brilliant.
This isn't just a movie about a guy who cleans toilets. It's about finding the sacred in the ordinary, the divine in the dust. It's about the quiet dignity of a life lived simply, a life dedicated to service, even if that service is making sure public restrooms are sparkling clean. Our hero, Hirayama, he's like a modern-day monk, finding his enlightenment not in a mountaintop monastery, but in the bustling heart of Tokyo.
The Poetry of Repetition: Finding Joy in the Everyday
Hirayama's life is a study in repetition. He wakes up, waters his plants, puts on his uniform, and goes to work, cleaning toilets with a meticulousness that borders on ritualistic. He listens to cassettes on his drive (Lou Reed, Patti Smith, The Kinks – the man has taste!), eats his lunch in the same park every day, and reads a little Faulkner before bed. It sounds boring, right? But here's the thing: it's not. There's a beauty in this rhythm, a poetry in the mundane.
Think about it: how often do we rush through our days, chasing after the next big thing, the next promotion, the next dopamine hit from our phones? We're so busy striving that we forget to be. Hirayama, on the other hand, has mastered the art of being present. He finds joy in the small things: the sunlight filtering through the leaves, the sound of his favorite song, the feel of a well-worn book in his hands.
Are We Living in Different Worlds?
The film also touches on something profound about how we all live in our own little worlds, even when we're surrounded by others. Hirayama has these little moments of connection – a nod with a homeless man, a shared smile with a stranger – but mostly, he's an observer. He sees the city's dramas unfold around him, but he's not really a part of them.
It made me think about how easy it is to become disconnected, even from those closest to us. Hirayama has a sister, a successful, wealthy woman who clearly loves him but doesn't quite understand him. They exist in different spheres, separated by more than just money. Their worlds simply don't intersect. There is a scene with a hug that was hard to watch. They love each other but something was lost along the way.
Analog Soul in a Digital World: A Love Letter to Cassettes and Paperbacks
And can we talk about the analog love in this film? Hirayama's got his cassette tapes, his vintage camera, his well-loved paperbacks. It's not some preachy statement about how digital is bad, though. There's a beautiful scene where his niece, a digital native, takes a picture with her phone right alongside him as he snaps one with his old film camera. It's about finding beauty in both the old and the new, about recognizing that different tools can lead us to the same place: a deeper appreciation for the world around us. And she eventually ends up using his old camera, gifted to her by him. He has a quiet impact in ways he cannot imagine.
The Zen of Imperfection: Embracing Our Inner Toilet Cleaner
Now, don't get me wrong. Perfect Days isn't some saccharine ode to a perfect life. Hirayama's life is far from perfect. He carries a quiet sadness, a sense of missed opportunities and unspoken regrets. He's not some enlightened guru; he's just a guy, trying to find his way, just like the rest of us.
And that's what makes the film so powerful. It's a reminder that even in our messy, imperfect lives, there is beauty to be found. It's an invitation to slow down, to pay attention, to find our own little rituals, our own sources of "surplus enjoyment," as the psychoanalysts would say. It's about embracing our inner toilet cleaner, finding dignity in the everyday, and recognizing that even the most ordinary moments can be infused with a kind of grace.
Now is Now, Next Time is Next Time.
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| Perfect Days (2023) by Wim Wenders |
So, what's the takeaway? Maybe it's as simple as that little mantra Hirayama shares with his niece: "Now is now. Next time is next time." Be present. Appreciate the small things. Find joy in the journey, even if that journey involves cleaning a few toilets along the way. Because in the end, every day is a little life, a little death, and a chance to start anew. And maybe, just maybe, that's enough to make any day a little more perfect. Now, go out there and find your own perfect day. And don't forget to tip your hat to the sanitation workers – they're the unsung heroes of our everyday enlightenment.
