The Perfect Film

Is Wim Wenders' Perfect Days 2023

Every scene of Wim Wenders Perfect Days (2023) is art. The framing, composition and light. The screen print interludes in black and white. And, of course, the stunning performance of the lead actor.

The film depicts two weeks in the life of Hirayama, a toilet cleaner in Tokyo, who indeed lives Perfect Days. Koji Yakusho’s near silent performance is deserving of all the accolades it has received and more. In the final, two minute close-up of his face, (Spoilers to follow) we witness all the emotions of life: joy, sadness, disappointment, regret, betrayal, pain— and the way life gives it to us, unpredictably— washing over his face. The scene itself a staggering aesthetic achievement.

How can you live perfect days when you scrub a toilet? Wenders spends two hours showing the audience. By appreciating everything. By noticing the sunlight filtering through the leaves, casting dancing shadows. By taking pleasure in your job, no matter what it is. And, by accepting what life gives you: one day, your colleague calls in sick and you work like a dog, the next, your niece visits you unexpectedly.

And all the details: the cassette tapes, the stereo, the simple desk lamp on the floor, the buckwheat pillow, his coins laid next to his watch and keys— Wenders shows how joys of simplicity and a world where everything was analog.

When I was a high school student, my summers were like Hiroyama. I worked in a grocery store, bagging and pushing carts. I must have read a 100 novels a summer, devouring the same writers Hiroyama reads. I listened to music on my car’s Sony CD player, which I personally crammed into the dashboard. Later, this would lead to an easy theft. After work, I would drive to my friend Colin’s house. I didn't have a cell phone. At the time, I felt poor, but what was that worth? More than all of Hiroyama’s cassettes.

I read that the initial title of the film was Komorebi, which is a Japanese word that means to appreciate the light filtering through the trees. In our modern world, this has been completely lost.

The only time Hiroyama drinks in the film is after he witnesses his favorite waitress in an embrace. But he misunderstood the situation. Her ex husband was dying of cancer. As the husband reflects on his mortality he asks a simple question: do shadows get darker when they overlap?

That's how life is: when we die, it feels like we barely scratched the surface. We don't even know the answers to the most simple questions. Yet Hiroyama shows us life isn't over yet for any of us. Hiroyama tries to answer the dying mans question, on the bank of the river, under the street lamps. Their game of shadow tag, takes them back to childhood, the moments of pure unadulterated joy.

All the best moments in life are simple. Sitting in the grass on a sunny day. A dinner with old friends. Listening to a cassette tape.

Recently, a friend I hadn't seen in many years stopped by for dinner. He lamented where we were as a country, and said he wasn't sure that he would bring kids into this modern world. I told him what I tell everyone: that those thoughts are a mental illness, and should be purged. He was brainwashed by the brainwashed people who write for the news. He cared too much about politics that was more ambiguous than he would like to admit.

I gave him some advice. I told him he already didn't use social media, all that was left was for him to stop reading the news. He was so close to having perfect days. He just couldn't see it. But neither can so many of us. It's right there.