In the populous and bustling city of Tokyo, Hirayama leads a deliberately withdrawn existence. A public toilet cleaner, he lives in a modest apartment displaying complete destitution. Quiet, routine, Hirayama nurtures several passions alone: horticulture, music, photography and reading. With the meditative and poetic Perfect Days (The perfect days), in the running for the Oscar for best international film, Wim Wenders offers one of his most beautiful feature films.
“It all started with an invitation from Takuma Takasaki to me [qui coscénarise] and Koji Yanai [qui coproduit] : in Tokyo, around fifteen public toilets had just been completely rebuilt by as many renowned architects. You should know that I love Tokyo, and I love architecture,” confides the filmmaker, with whom we spoke in September when he came to TIFF.
This explains this, his visit there inspired him, first in a diffuse way, then more and more precisely, a protagonist: Hirayama (Koji Yakusho, Best Actor Prize at Cannes). It was around the character that the episodic story then took shape.
“It was just after the pandemic, and it was still very complicated to enter Japan. I got a work visa and went to spend a week there. Understand: the Japanese had just experienced the longest confinement of all countries. When I arrived in Tokyo, it was spring, and it was beautiful. However, it was the spectacle of people taking back possession of their city that struck me the most. I arrived from Berlin, where the parks were in a sorry state post-pandemic. But in Tokyo, I saw the exact opposite: everything was immaculate. People’s pride in keeping common areas clean was evident. And suddenly, I caught a glimpse of this protagonist whose job is to ensure this cleanliness,” recalls the director of the films Paris, Texas And Wings of desire (Der Himmel über Berlin).
About these jewels of the fiction section of Wim Wenders’ filmography, which also includes a number of fabulous documentaries (Buena Vista Social Club, Pina, Anselm), Perfect Days is definitely to be placed alongside them. This is all the more remarkable given that the film was shot in barely two weeks.
“I was coming out of one shoot and was getting ready to dive into another, very heavy and complex one. In the meantime I had very little time. We devoted a week to the pre-production of the film and fifteen days to the shooting itself. We worked from dawn to dusk. Every minute was precious. »
As for the protagonist, well. A protagonist whose zen facade sometimes cracks, briefly, just long enough to reveal a possible sorrow, a possible regret, behind…
The art of the present
Through various encounters, we learn more about Hirayama, a discreet man who nonetheless harbors many secrets. Each of these tête-à-têtes — with his unreliable young colleague, with his runaway niece, with the distraught patron of a bar, etc. — takes on the value of a chapter.
Although the film never explains the how and why of the character’s life choices. Rare allusions to his past allow us to get an idea, and that’s enough.
“Takuma and I quickly decided that Hirayama would be a person of very few words. He lives humbly and resolutely in the present — living in the present is an art, hence the importance of his routines. For my part, I wanted to show the repetition of his gestures, day after day, as if each time it was the first time he performed them. By way of contrast, it also had the advantage of amplifying the uniqueness of each of the people Hirayama meets. »
In this regard, one of the most touching passages occurs when Niko, Hirayama’s niece, pays him an impromptu visit. As a young teenager, she searches for herself and is intrigued by the fact that her mother and her uncle lead lives at odds with each other.
“The world is made up of different worlds: some are connected, some are not,” Hirayama responds to Niko.
At the mention of this line, Wim Wenders agrees: “When his niece asks him this question, namely why a brother and a sister lead such dissimilar lives, Hirayama wants to share a lesson with Niko. Hence this line about the often incompatible worlds in which people live. From then on, Niko wonders what world she wants to live in. Gently, Hirayama invites him to consider a world where the present is the present and the past is the past. Deep down, Hirayama is a bit like a monk. His existence is not religious, but it is imbued with spirituality. »
Little splendors
Although he pays constant attention and care to his work, Hirayama sometimes stops to contemplate some ephemeral manifestation of beauty, which he then tries to photograph. They are generally small things, such as this ray of light which cuts an astonishing shadow, or this ray of sunlight which creates a soft sparkle as it passes through the leaves of a tree.
“Light is the source of life. Besides, regarding your second example, the Japanese have a word that I love to designate this phenomenon of the sun passing through the leaves and producing this characteristic shimmer on the ground or on a wall. This word is “komorebi”. Hirayama sees this, and appreciates it. He is attentive. »
However, when the film shows us these small splendors as Hirayama sees them, it is a bit as if the gaze of the protagonist replaces that of the filmmaker. In fact, it was the latter, basically, who identified and chose to film all of this. It is therefore ultimately Wim Wenders who invites us to savor the moment, to appreciate the present.
The film Perfect Days hits theaters on February 16.