A lovely, meditative slice of life delivered in edible cinematic form, "Perfect Days" is a sweet visual poem from venerable film auteur Wim Wenders.
With no backstory, or front story for that matter, we follow the seemingly mundane yet rigorously calculated routine of Hirayama, a solitary, middle-aged gent moving about his tiny but perfectly functional apartment to greet the dawn, procure a vending machine can of coffee, popping in a wonderfully curated cassette in his stubby van, winding his way through a yawning Tokyo, to spend the day cleaning funky public restrooms. Funky as in design, not cleanliness.
His regular haunts - a used book store with a super chatty proprietor, an after work bar tended by a gifted vocalist easily cajoled into entertaining the regulars - are charming in their predictability, providing mind and sustenance comfort. For lunch break in the park, Hirayama takes time every day to bathe in the swaying trees above, leaves dancing in the wind, before taking his usual old school snap. The camera, the music tapes, the dog-eared books, it all references an analogue time gone by, a time often romanticized in film, yet here it just exists. Hirayama has a past, it is touched upon, introduced with subtle referential tones, briefly disrupting his solitary life, much like his young and unpredictable coworker disrupts his days. His past, however interesting and mysterious and perhaps even glamorous, is just that, the past.
Those hoping for a wild plot twist or crazy revelation will be left wanting, but those willing to take the squinting against the sun morning drive with our hero as Lou Reed croons "Perfect Day", will be in for a real treat. There is power in serenity and simplicity, a dig at the speeding out of control go-go digital modern world, and Wenders has truly captured it. Also trees, trees play a big role here.
With no backstory, or front story for that matter, we follow the seemingly mundane yet rigorously calculated routine of Hirayama, a solitary, middle-aged gent moving about his tiny but perfectly functional apartment to greet the dawn, procure a vending machine can of coffee, popping in a wonderfully curated cassette in his stubby van, winding his way through a yawning Tokyo, to spend the day cleaning funky public restrooms. Funky as in design, not cleanliness.
His regular haunts - a used book store with a super chatty proprietor, an after work bar tended by a gifted vocalist easily cajoled into entertaining the regulars - are charming in their predictability, providing mind and sustenance comfort. For lunch break in the park, Hirayama takes time every day to bathe in the swaying trees above, leaves dancing in the wind, before taking his usual old school snap. The camera, the music tapes, the dog-eared books, it all references an analogue time gone by, a time often romanticized in film, yet here it just exists. Hirayama has a past, it is touched upon, introduced with subtle referential tones, briefly disrupting his solitary life, much like his young and unpredictable coworker disrupts his days. His past, however interesting and mysterious and perhaps even glamorous, is just that, the past.
Those hoping for a wild plot twist or crazy revelation will be left wanting, but those willing to take the squinting against the sun morning drive with our hero as Lou Reed croons "Perfect Day", will be in for a real treat. There is power in serenity and simplicity, a dig at the speeding out of control go-go digital modern world, and Wenders has truly captured it. Also trees, trees play a big role here.
- hipCRANK.