Wenders is playing a long game. He wants you to notice the texture of concrete, the way steam rises from a noodle bowl, the sound of a cassette tape clicking into place. He wants you to realize that Hirayama isn't trapped in his routine—he is liberated by it.
And yet, Perfect Days is the rare film that forces you to change the volume of your own life. We meet Hirayama, played with heartbreaking subtlety by Kōji Yakusho (who won the Best Actor prize at Cannes for this role). Hirayama wakes up before dawn to the sound of a woman sweeping the street outside his modest apartment. He brushes his teeth, trims his mustache, waters his tiny ferns, and climbs into his van.
Wenders doesn't just play these songs; he lets them wash over Hirayama’s face. Yakusho’s performance happens almost entirely in micro-expressions—the slight upturn of a lip when “Pale Blue Eyes” comes on, the distant stare during “House of the Rising Sun.” I watched Perfect Days on a Tuesday night after a terrible day at work. My brain was a browser with 47 tabs open. For the first twenty minutes, I was restless. Nothing is happening. Perfect Days -2023-2023
★★★★★ (5/5) Best paired with: A cassette tape, a cold can of coffee from a vending machine, and a window seat. Have you seen Perfect Days? Did it make you want to buy a film camera and a set of feather dusters? Let me know in the comments below.
That is the magic of Wim Wenders’ Perfect Days . It doesn’t just tell you to stop and smell the roses. It hands you a mop, points to a dirty floor, and whispers: Here is your cathedral. Now get to work. Wenders is playing a long game
Then, slowly, I stopped waiting for the plot.
The film doesn't romanticize poverty or labor. Hirayama has a choice. He could be a corporate drone. He chooses instead to be a custodian of small spaces, finding dignity in doing one thing perfectly. Be warned: There is a moment near the end of this film—involving a shadow, a hug, and a sunrise—that will break you open. I won’t spoil it. But I will say that Kōji Yakusho’s face, caught between a smile and a sob as Lou Reed sings “I’m gonna be your perfect day,” is one of the greatest acting moments of the decade. And yet, Perfect Days is the rare film
His job: scrubbing toilets in the Shibuya ward. He takes it seriously. He carries a kit of specialized tools. He uses a mirror on a stick to check under the rim. He smiles at the cherry blossoms reflected in a chrome urinal.
