• Perfect Days

1/28/24 (Sun)

Shibuya Ward (which encompasses Shibuya, Harajuku, Aoyama and other Tokyo hot spots) had apparently approached Japanophile Wim Wenders to make a documentary on its clean public toilet project, the Tokyo Toilet, which has installed some innovative and attractive facilities throughout the district (many of which I’ve used). Wenders decided to turn this into a piece about a devoted public worker, allowing him to show the facilities as background for something more profound.

The toilet cleaner Hirayama, who almost never speaks, is shown in his unvarying daily practice: waking up to the sound of a women sweeping the streets, folding his futon, clipping his moustache, brushing his teeth, watering his plants, glancing up at the sky as he leaves the house. He listens to Western pops from the 1960s and 1970s on cassette tapes as he drives to the day’s commodes. He takes pride in his work, carefully polishing the fixtures and holding a mirror to make sure the underside is thoroughly wiped, and politely steps out and waits when someone needs to use the room. For lunch, he sits in the same spot every day, snaps a picture of the sunlight filtering through the trees above, and acknowledges an odd man dancing in the park. He then goes to his usual restaurant, bathes at the public bath, and gets a drink at his favorite bar. Then he reads briefly and sleeps, and the cycle begins again. His days differ only in the details: he returns a crying child to her mother, is introduced to his colleague’s girlfriend, is taken to a record shop that offers a substantial sum for his pristine cassettes (which he refuses). He is obviously educated given his penchant for foreign music and novelists like Faulkner and Koda Aya (whose Flowing became one of my favorite films). But it is only when his niece shows up that we get a glimpse of a different side. Further background is hinted at when her mother, i.e., his sister, arrives with her chauffeur and a rather disdaining attitude, suggesting a more complicated past than previously indicated. Still, he remains devoted to his modest ways, sticking with cassettes, old-style cameras, paperbacks, and cheap food. And he is perfectly happy with that.

This focus on an unchanging routine reminded me of the lessons in the underrated Every Day a Good Day. While that was for the austere ritual of making tea, this film brings it to the level of cleaning toilets. That is, contentment can be found even in the most mundane aspects of life.

The word 影 (shadow, untranslated in the subtitles) is highlighted in a Faulkner page at one point and fades into shadow, giving way to a hazy view of sunlight streaming through the trees that reappears throughout the film. The Japanese unsurprisingly have a name for light filtering through foliage (木漏れ日komorebi), one of numerous phrases in the language indicating a moment in life that will never reappear. In taking photos of the same tree from the same angle every day, Hirayama is aware that he will never capture exactly the same scene twice – which is itself the point. It is how he lives his life.

I loved the music, but the song selection seemed pretty standard for a guy being presented as his own man. “The House of the Rising Sun” at sunrise was too on the nose, as was Lou Reed’s “Perfect Day” (what’s that about feeding animals at the zoo, by the way? is that allowed?), and “Feeling Good” was an obvious choice at the end, though well done with that long take of Hirayama’s smiling face. Overall the songs could have been more eclectic. But I did love the enka rendition of “Rising Sun” in Japanese by Ishikawa Sayuri, one of Japan’s best singers in that genre; I wish they had allowed her to sing it to the end.

The camera angles from tatami level may be a hat-tip to Ozu given Wenders’ respect for the director (he made a documentary on him). Hirayama is also the name of the reticent Ryu Chishu’s character in Ozu’s Tokyo Story. The photography was beautiful throughout, including great tours of the toilets. Shibuya got its money’s worth.

Yakusho Koji justifies his Best Actor win at Cannes with a perfectly modulated performance. The cast in general was fine, other than the overacting by Emoto Tokio as Koji’s colleague, not helped by some dire dialogue. Ishikawa was a great choice as the Mama, not least because it gave her a chance to sing, and it was good to see Miura Tomokazu in the character role of Mama’s lover. Dancer Tanaka Min always looks like a homeless guy even at his best, so that casting was perfect.

The film was too pat at times, and the dialogue could be grating, like the bit about Spotify. But the point about finding pleasure in the moment, even in the small things, was well taken. A lovely and worthwhile film.