'Perfect Days' review — An urge to pause
An ode to empathy, Wim Wenders' film breathes life into the monotony of routine, transforming the mundane into something deeply personal.
PERFECT DAYS BY WIM WENDERS is a quiet masterpiece that breathes life into the monotony of routine, transforming the mundane into something deeply personal. This isn’t a film that glorifies productivity or romanticizes service workers; instead, it captures the soft, intimate moments that happen between breaths—the secret pauses we take when no one is watching. Wenders tenderly shows us that even in the most repetitive workdays, beauty can be found in the simplest of acts, allowing us to rediscover ourselves.
The film’s artfulness is understated yet profound, much like the subtle grace of Japanese decorum — it knows when to let the camera linger and when to pull away, giving us space to imagine. It makes use of dreamlike sequences but as a delicate guide of time passing. The restraint in his storytelling lets us inhabit the film, rather than just observe it, making every frame feel purposeful yet quietly unassuming.
At its heart, Perfect Days is an ode to empathy, often lost and crushed under the weight of modern life. Wenders doesn’t just show us a character; he shows us the potential for tenderness in a world that has often forgotten to care. In a time where we are fragmented and disheartened, Perfect Days dares to remind us of how compassion can be our salvation. This film is not merely bittersweet; it’s a celebration of the universality of kindness, urging us to pause, to notice, and — most of all — to care.
Perfect Days
dir. Wim Wenders | Drama | 🇯🇵 🇩🇪
Hirayama (Kôji Yakusho) cleans public toilets in Tokyo, lives his life in simplicity and daily tranquility. Some encounters also lead him to reflect on himself.