Perfect Days Review: Embracing Ephemerality and the Art of Noticing

To celebrate the release of MUBI’s beautiful Collector’s Edition of Wim Wenders’ Perfect Days, I’d like to pose a few questions.

What would you consider to be a “perfect life”? Travelling all over the world? Having a beautiful house somewhere? Having a prestigious job?

Nowadays, we are bombarded with information all the time. Most people have heard of FOMO (or “fear of missing out”), which is augmented by the ever-present social media. Your best friend has been flying to all their favourite destinations, your old classmate is getting married, your former colleague has been promoted. Wars, earthquakes, elections.

Everything is happening all the time to everyone.

In a world that seems to be spinning a lot faster than it used to, in a world where we’re surrounded by all sorts of events, Perfect Days (2023, dir. Wim Wenders) reminds us that the real beauty of life is in the little details that we ignore.

Perfect Days is the proper definition of “slow cinema”: it’s composed of beautiful, contemplative long shots, it features very little dialogue, and most importantly, it pulls us into its universe and forces us to stop and observe.

This review/analysis is spoiler-free. Enjoy! And if you don’t have enough time to read it all now, pin our summary at the bottom!

What Are Hirayama’s Perfect Days?

Everybody has been talking about Perfect Days for a couple of very important reasons. First, Yakusho Koji won the Best Actor award at last year’s Cannes Festival for it. Second, it’s the first time that Japan has been nominated for an Oscar with a feature directed by a non-Japanese director. So I’m sure you’ve heard its plot somewhere: Perfect Days tells the story of Hirayama, a toilet cleaner in Tokyo. And… that’s pretty much it.

We witness Hirayama live day by day, creating a journey of routine, patterns, and repetition, but embracing the random encounters that punctuate his ordinary tale. Every little thing matters: the little shoots that sprout in the park, the old cassette tapes that so strikingly give the story rhythm and add to our protagonist’s personality, the trees that he so carefully and graciously photographs with his old-fashioned film camera.

Hirayama, unlike most of us, truly and purposefully sees the world around him. He sees the kid who is lost, the old homeless man, and the owner of the bar. He sees his niece, who earnestly comes to see him and clearly has a profound admiration for her uncle. He sees the girl at the park, who always has lunch at the same time he does. He sees the Tokyo Skytree in all its grandiosity. He sees the tic-tac-toe that someone’s left behind and responds to that child-like attempt at connection. He sees how the leaves in the trees create different shapes of light and shadows that are ephemeral.

Next Time is Next Time. Now is Now.

Ephemerality.

That’s the beating heart of Perfect Days: “今度は今度。今は今。” (“Next time is next time. Now is now.”). The past and the future aren’t important — today is. Because each and every moment is unique — and, even though our everyday lives seem to be mere routine, they are full of little sparks that only happen once.

Even though Hirayama lives amongst the analogue (his film camera, his cassette tapes, his old mobile, his second-hand books) and he cherishes the comfort and familiarity that it brings, Hirayama has decided, for one reason or another, to constantly and continuously let go of the past. We’re living in the now, and once it’s gone, it’s gone. No point hanging on to it. The now deserves our full attention — and Hirayama wholeheartedly gives it.

That’s why we don’t really get to know what events in life brought Hirayama to today. His sister gives us a glimpse of a life that used to be: a wealthy family, a broken relationship with a father, and the yearning to know why Hirayama is a toilet cleaner. Nothing is said, nothing is explained, nothing is explored. His past doesn’t matter. It’s the moment that he’s currently living that counts. And if that’s all Hirayama needs, that’s all we need, too.

Hirayama’s appreciation for details is also reflected in the script: if you pay attention, there’s so much happening between the lines. Hirayama’s pride as a toilet cleaner, but also the prejudice that he faces. His connection to the analogue and his ignorance towards the digital. How he seems to be the only one paying attention to nature, while our attention is consistently consumed by the urban. If you let it, Perfect Days can raise all sorts of questions. But, in the end, Wenders’ feature allows us to meditate and find peace in our own routines.

Wenders and Lustigs’s Perspective on Japan and Routine

There’s something very, very Japanese about Perfect Days — this definitely isn’t a German perspective on a Japanese man’s life. This is pure Japanese aesthetic and outlook. Takasaki Takuma, who co-wrote the script with Wenders, mentioned to The Guardian that “through his [Wenders’] eyes and mind, I rediscovered my country, culture and values”. Through Wenders and cinematographer Franz Lustig’s lenses, Tokyo becomes our #1 supporting role in this tale.

Could it be because Ozu Yasujiro is Wim Wenders’ greatest idol? Or maybe because Wenders has been to Japan several times and loves the country? Or even because Wenders is an accomplished documentarian as well? Regardless of the reason, Wenders captures Japan beautifully and candidly.

Wim Wenders creates this lovely bubble of Hirayama’s ordinary life: his morning routine, his dedication to his work, his appreciation of nature, his love for literature and film photography, and his interactions with people. That’s accomplished through its several close-ups and through a superb choice of 1.33:1 aspect ratio, which zooms in on our protagonist and also brings this old-fashioned quality to it. The colour is stunning, but also the use of light and shadow throughout — which leads to our post-credit definition of “komorebi”. Lustig’s cinematography is simple but precise, intimate but observational.

Perfect Days: The Yakusho + Wenders Combo

That’s also why Yakusho’s performance is so astounding. The entire film lives and dies on his facial expressions. There’s so incredibly much going on behind his eyes. Hirayama’s life is a compilation of small actions, gazes, meaningful smiles, and even more meaningful tears. But nothing is really said: it’s all shown. Yakusho brings life to everything he touches and brings melody to all his actions. “Brilliant” doesn’t even start to describe it.

In the same way that Yakusho’s performance reminds us of what real acting is all about, Wenders’ direction reminds us of what cinema is meant to be. In a world filled with multi-million dollar productions, franchises, and remakes, Wenders tells us that there’s a story in every corner, every breath. We don’t need loud explosions and CGI-filled shots all the time. Cinema is all around us.

Why Should You Watch Perfect Days?

Perfect Days perfectly accomplishes its goal: it’s an ode to the everyday and random encounters, to the beauty and magic of the known and common. This outstanding combination of Wim Wenders’ direction, Franz Lustig’s cinematography, and Yakusho Koji’s performance is hypnotising — you just can’t take your eyes away from the screen even though you can probably guess what’s coming next. In its two-hour run, it’s cathartic to observe Hirayama’s routine. It’s such a quiet and peaceful film that, for the first time in a long time, I felt that the cinema really was an oasis. An oasis of tranquillity amidst this world of chaos.

The contrast between Hirayama’s life and ours couldn’t be more drastic. But you leave the film wondering: couldn’t I be a little bit more like him?

You can watch Perfect Days on:

Here’s our spoiler-free summary! Click to pin it!

Perfect Days is now out on Blu-ray, DVD, and in a stunning Collector’s Edition in 4K — so what are you waiting for? Enjoy it and then, come back and share in the comments what you thought of it!