[Film] Wim Wenders' "PERFECT DAYS" — The Freedom and Loneliness Residing in Routine
Introduction — The Questions Posed by a Quiet Daily Life
Director Wim Wenders' latest film, "PERFECT DAYS," is a work that quietly depicts the daily life of Hirayama, a man who works as a public toilet cleaner in Shibuya, Tokyo. Koji Yakusho, who plays the lead role, won the Best Actor award at the Cannes Film Festival for this performance, earning international acclaim.
However, what this film confronts the audience with is neither flashy developments nor dramatic conclusions. Waking up early, commuting along a set path, cleaning toilets, stopping by a public bath, reading books, listening to music, and falling asleep—the sequence of these repetitions is projected onto the screen with detachment.
At first glance, these activities might seem monotonous or even boring. Yet, they are etched with the richness and shadows of a person living in the city. Wenders does not judge this life as either an "ideal" or a "misfortune." He presents it strictly as one form of life in the midst of the city of Tokyo. The audience can project themselves onto this figure or view him from a distance. "PERFECT DAYS" offers up the fundamental question of how we face our daily lives with a quiet gaze.
Synopsis — Days Repeated Under the Sunlight Filtering Through Trees
Hirayama wakes up at the same time every morning. His room is neatly organized, with nothing unnecessary left out. He waters his plants, gets dressed, eats a light meal, and heads out into the city in his light truck. His job is cleaning public toilets. He polishes the design-rich toilets scattered throughout Shibuya one by one, paying attention to every corner, and continues to work silently.
During his lunch break, he sits down in a park and looks up at the trees while munching on a sandwich he bought. It is his daily routine to suddenly take out his camera and capture the shadows cast by the sunlight filtering through the trees. His gaze reveals an attitude of cherishing the breath of nature hidden within the hustle and bustle of the city.
In the evening, after finishing work, he stops by a public bath to soak and relax his body. After returning home, he listens to rock and soul music on old cassette tapes, picks up a book, and falls asleep. When the next morning comes, the same day begins again.
Amidst such days, his estrangement from his family and past events surface in fragments. His niece suddenly visits him, and his conflict with his sister is hinted at. Hirayama's life, which he has lived in solitude while keeping his distance from society, begins to show slight tremors through his contact with others.
Even so, the story does not shift dramatically. What the audience sees are days that repeat in the same way. Yet, within that repetition, richness and loneliness, light and shadow overlap, and the life of one human being is quietly shaped.
Freedom Residing in Routine — A Natural Distance from Capitalism
What characterizes "PERFECT DAYS" is the point that Hirayama's life is significantly distanced from neoliberal values such as "efficiency" and "results." For many urban dwellers, daily activities are incorporated into the logic of capitalism. How efficiently one works, produces results, and gains evaluation. Time is chopped into small pieces, and schedules are filled without gaps.
However, Hirayama is different. While his days are regular, they are not bound by numbers or efficiency. The job of cleaning toilets is often looked down upon in society and is sometimes the target of discriminatory gazes. Even so, he handles each task with care. He polishes mirrors, wipes away water droplets, and scrubs floors. Even if no one is watching, he entrusts his pride to his work.
There is a freedom residing there that is on a different dimension from "results-oriented" thinking. His time is not marked to be evaluated by others, but follows his own rhythm.
Furthermore, Hirayama is not simply living a "frugal life." He is also a culturally rich person. The sensibility to capture the sunlight filtering through the trees that he looks up at during his lunch break with his camera. The music he listens to on cassette tapes after returning home and his habit of picking up books. These are incorporated into his routine, adding color to days that might appear monotonous.
Wenders depicts these activities of Hirayama not by over-idealizing them, but with a certain radiance. The moment he holds his camera under the sunlight filtering through the trees is time itself, disconnected from capital and the market. There is not even the question of "what for" there. He just takes the picture because he feels it is beautiful. The freedom of that act is what shapes his life.
"PERFECT DAYS" shows another possibility in the modern city. Finding freedom within routine, beyond efficiency and results. Cultivating a small but certain richness outside of capitalist values. Hirayama's days teach us that this is by no means a fantasy, but something that can actually be lived.
The Shadow of Loneliness — Discriminatory Gazes and Urban Estrangement
When watching "PERFECT DAYS," there are moments when Hirayama's life feels like a beautiful melody. The days that are neatly repeated are supported by the sunlight filtering through the trees, music, and the world of books, and are filled with a certain kind of richness. However, Wenders does not unilaterally idealize that life. On the screen, the shadow of an indelible loneliness is etched alongside the richness.
One of those shadows is the discriminatory gaze directed at his work. The job of a public toilet cleaner is not necessarily a highly regarded profession in society. Rather, it is easily a target of contempt and is exposed to the prejudices that people hold unconsciously. In the film, scenes are shown where young people cast looks of disdain or take an attitude that takes his work for granted. Hirayama continues his work silently without changing his expression in response to those gazes. However, behind that silence, the loneliness of someone working while carrying the distance from society is quietly accumulating.
Furthermore, his estrangement from his family also highlights his loneliness. Through his interaction with his niece, who suddenly visits, his past and his conflict with his sister are hinted at. While his presence serves as a warm, temporary refuge for his niece, it simultaneously casts a shadow of him as a "man cut off from his family." Hirayama does not exclude domestic warmth or intimate relationships from his life. In reality, however, his life is predicated on loneliness. His figure seems to symbolize the "thinness of human connection" that many people living in the city carry.
Wenders does not depict this loneliness as an object of pity. Rather, he portrays it matter-of-factly, as if it were "just another part of life." The entire screen is permeated with the perspective that living alone in a city is not a defect to be discarded, but a reality to be accepted.
Conversations that Layer Shadows — The Necessity of Interaction with Others
In the latter half of the film, there is a scene where the bar owner, played by Sayuri Ishikawa, and her ex-husband appear. Here, Hirayama engages in a brief but significant conversation with the ex-husband. The two talk about "shadows."
"A shadow when you are alone" and "a shadow when you are with someone else." Which shadow is darker, or which one should be darker? Their words seem to speak for the depths of Hirayama's heart. Living in loneliness is inevitable, and everyone carries a fate they cannot avoid. However, when one interacts with others, that loneliness becomes deeper. Yet, isn't it precisely because of that that the shadow of life deepens and existence gains depth?
The taciturn Hirayama speaks only in that moment. From that, it is conveyed that he himself is also "seeking connection with others." Although he does not break his calm expression in his daily life, deep down, he may have an intuition that "shutting oneself away in loneliness is not enough."
This conversation shows another aspect lurking in his life. In other words, loneliness is not something completely closed off; it becomes deeper and heavier through interaction with others. However, this does not distort life, but rather gives it the depth of truth. Through this exchange, Wenders quietly depicts the paradox that human loneliness is "deepened by interaction."
Omen to the Last Scene — The Simultaneity of Laughter and Tears
This "shadow conversation" also serves as foreshadowing for the film's climax, the final scene. The laughter and tears that appear on Hirayama's face as he drives. That expression, where the joy of freedom and the pain of loneliness surge simultaneously, truly symbolizes the entirety of his life.
While he is lonely, he does not deny that loneliness. While he desires interaction with others, he simultaneously cherishes the freedom that dwells in his routine. The coexistence of laughter and tears is an inscription of that ambiguity itself. Faced with that expression, the audience is not given an "answer," but rather handed a "question." What does it mean to live in a city, and how should one embrace loneliness and freedom? That question continues to resonate in the hearts of the audience themselves.
Cultural Texts Appearing in the Film — "The Tree" and "The Wild Palms"
Literary works and essays cited in films are often deeply related to their themes. Aya Koda's "The Tree" and Faulkner's "The Wild Palms," which appear in this work, also play a symbolic role in understanding Hirayama's life.
Aya Koda's "The Tree" is an essay that depicts the depth of life and time dwelling in nature, especially in "trees." The way Hirayama looks up at the sunlight filtering through the trees and continues to capture it in photographs overlaps with this text. It reflects a gaze that turns its heart toward the subtle expressions of nature amidst the hustle and bustle of the city.
On the other hand, Faulkner's "The Wild Palms" is a novel that depicts love and ruin through a dual narrative structure. The theme that choosing love is simultaneously accepting loneliness, and that loss and shadows are unavoidable, runs through it. Hirayama's life is also supported by loneliness while being free. By casting Faulkner's shadow behind it, the "untouchable pain" behind his silence and smiles is implied.
If "The Tree" illuminates Hirayama's positive gaze, "The Wild Palms" reinforces the shadow of his loneliness. By having these two texts intersect within the film, the two wheels of "the beauty dwelling in routine" and "the shadows of loneliness" emerge more vividly.
Encounter with the Homeless Man — Another Shadow
The homeless man played by Min Tanaka appears multiple times in the work. While he places himself on the periphery of the city, he does not say much, simply showing a presence of just being there. His existence, while blending into the city, is somehow alien and is almost never noticed by the people around him.
However, strangely, his figure is portrayed as if it were visible only to Hirayama. Even in a crowd or standing on a street corner, his gaze and presence feel as if they are resonating with Hirayama's sensibilities.
Not a single conversation is exchanged. Even so, his existence reflects Hirayama's loneliness from a different angle. His figure, like a shadow drifting quietly without being buried in the hustle and bustle of the city, seems to symbolize the possibilities of Hirayama's future or the form of loneliness he himself carries.
Wenders does not simply depict this person as an existence outside of society, but presents him as another shadow lurking in the city. That shadow has strong meaning precisely because it is visible only to Hirayama. Loneliness is not something confined within an individual, but a shadow that casts itself countless times into the city, visible to some and invisible to others.
Connection to "Paris, Texas"—The Lineage of the Silent Man
In discussing "PERFECT DAYS," one must not forget its connection to Wenders' own past works. The resonance with "Paris, Texas" is particularly striking. Travis, the protagonist of that film, also appeared as if wandering out of a desert, carrying his past within a long silence. His loneliness, set against the backdrop of estrangement from his family, left a poignant impression on the audience.
In "Paris, Texas," the vast American wilderness served as a screen reflecting the emptiness of the human heart. In "PERFECT DAYS," however, the setting is shifted to highly limited spaces such as public toilets, alleys, parks, and public baths in Tokyo. Against the infinity of the wilderness, we have the closed, micro-daily life of the city. Yet, in both, Wenders has depicted the depths of human existence through a "silent man."
Just as Travis regained faint words after his silence, Hirayama also speaks only the bare minimum. Yet, his gaze and gestures are eloquent. The way he handles his cleaning tools, the look in his eyes as he gazes up at the sunlight filtering through the trees, the tips of his fingers as he takes photographs—all of these tell the story of his life. Audiences who saw the cracks in the heart of Travis as he walked the desert in "Paris, Texas" will read a different aspect of urban loneliness in the presence of Hirayama in "PERFECT DAYS."
In other words, whether in a vast landscape or a corner of the city, Wenders consistently depicts a "silent man carrying loneliness," and their existence appeals to the audience beyond words.
Conclusion—The Last Scene of Laughter and Tears
The climax of "PERFECT DAYS" is truly concentrated in the final scene. The laughter and tears that appear on Hirayama's face as he drives his car. That expression likely captures the core of the entire film in an instant.
He is laughing because he savors the small freedom that dwells in his routine and feels the richness that truly breathes within the repetition of his days. The realization that he is connected to the world, just as when he looks up at the sunlight through the trees or takes photographs, leads him to smile.
Yet at the same time, he is crying. The shadows of loneliness and estrangement have not vanished; the pain of societal prejudice, the distance from his family, and the difficulties in his interactions with others lie deep within his heart. On that face where laughter and tears coexist, the joy of freedom and the pain of loneliness melt together, carving out the complexity of human existence where opposites hold true simultaneously.
Faced with this expression, the audience is not given a clear answer. Rather, they are confronted with a "question." How do we, living in the city, carry our loneliness, and what kind of freedom can we find in our daily lives? In a modern society exposed to the logic of capitalist efficiency and achievement, how can we protect and nurture the richness that dwells in routine?
Through Hirayama's life, Wenders does not provide the answer, but offers it in the form of a question. Having received that question, the audience is forced to look back at their own lives and consider what they hold dear while living in the hustle and bustle of the city.
Instead of having dramatic narrative ups and downs, "PERFECT DAYS" quietly settles into the deep places of each viewer's heart. Hirayama's face, marked by both laughter and tears, speaks simultaneously of the difficulty and the preciousness of accepting loneliness and freedom within the city.
The themes that run through Wenders' films—silence, loneliness, landscape, and connection with others—are all condensed into the figure of one man living in a corner of Tokyo. Just like the wind blowing across the wilderness in "Paris, Texas," the sunlight filtering through the trees in "PERFECT DAYS" touches our hearts and leaves behind questions that transcend words.
Hirayama's laughter and tears are also the image of our own lives. Carrying the shadows that lurk in the city while simultaneously gazing at the light. Accepting that duality might just be what "perfect days" means for us living in the modern age.