Perfect Days

Perfect Days feels like a visual answer to the question of why Japan is so deeply loved. There is something profoundly healing, almost spiritual, about Hirayama’s life. The quiet tranquillity, the peace found in monotony, and the gentle rhythm of his days feel like a reminder of how life could be lived. Watching this movie felt like escaping to Tokyo, not to chase excitement, but to rediscover beauty in everyday life. It’s hard to put into words just how deeply healing this film felt.

Plot*
Hirayama is a public toilet cleaner in Tokyo. His life follows a strict, repetitive routine: waking up, getting ready, watering his plants, buying the same coffee, going to work, and ending his day at the same bathhouses, bars, and small restaurants. On the surface, his life is monotonous. Yet against the backdrop of buzzing Tokyo's skyscrapers, traffic, and fast-paced modernity. Hirayama’s existence feels almost revolutionary. Like he’s the only one who has figured something out, the rest of us are rushing past.

I don’t think I’ll ever be able to fully explain how this movie made me feel. There’s something almost ironic about the fact that this film began as a documentary project meant to showcase the architectural beauty of Tokyo’s public toilets, and somehow evolved into one of the most powerful and quietly moving movie of the last decade. So much of the movie feels nostalgic, even without relying on overt sentimentality.

*Hirayama*
Hirayama’s routine repeats itself almost identically every single day. The same movements, the same places, the same rhythm. Yet instead of feeling boring, it becomes comforting. Healing. He is a taciturn man who speaks very little; in fact, nearly 90% of the film unfolds without dialogue. And maybe that’s exactly what makes the film so poetic. It doesn’t impose meaning on the viewer. Instead, it trusts you to feel it on your own,
One of the most striking moments in the film is Hirayama’s lunch break at a temple. Like clockwork, he sits surrounded by nature, watching the leaves sway gently as sunlight filters through the trees. This phenomenon—komorebi— " sunlight leaking through trees"- refers to the beauty and wonder of rays of light dappled through overhead leaves. It represents a poetic, aesthetic concept of nature’s beauty and tranquillity, often signifying moments of peace, mindfulness, and the fleeting nature of light, something that exists only once, in that exact moment. Hirayama takes photos of Komorebi, sitting under the same trees every day, yet no picture is ever the same. It feels like a quiet reminder that even within repetition, moments are fleeting and unrepeatable.
Nature plays a crucial role in the film, constantly contrasted with the surrounding modern cityscape. Towering buildings, rushing commuters, and traffic noise set against the calm of sunlight, leaves, and wind. Hirayama is often the only one who pauses to notice these details. He sees beauty where others rush past. Even in traffic, his stillness feels like being untouched by the chaos around him.
The film introduces a subtle change when Hirayama’s runaway niece comes to stay with him. Her presence disrupts his routine and gently challenges his way of living. It’s during this time that we begin to learn more about him, and it’s also one of the few moments when he speaks. What initially seems like the life of a sad old man cleaning toilets slowly reveals itself as a conscious choice, a life he stepped into, not out of failure, but out of a desire for peace and contentment. By the end, his life evokes not pity, but quiet envy.

*Tokyo’s public toilets*
The Tokyo public toilets themselves become works of art. Each one is architecturally unique, some blending seamlessly into nature, others showcasing modern technology, transparency, maze-like structures, or even playful mushroom-shaped designs. It’s architectural innovation at its finest. Choosing toilets instead of skyscrapers to represent Tokyo feels strange at first, but the more I watched, the more poetic it became. It’s precisely this unorthodox choice that gives the film its uniqueness, turning something ordinary into something contemplative.

*Cinematography*
The cinematography carries the same nostalgic weight. The camera moves deliberately, often lingering on Hirayama’s expressions—those of a man who seems content, peaceful, and deeply present. There’s a softness to the way he is filmed, as if the movie itself is breathing at his pace.

There are still so many things to say, and yet not enough words. One final detail that lingers is the music—old American classics playing against a Japanese backdrop. The contrast feels unexpected, but it is an essential part of Japanese history and memory, adding another layer to the film’s gentle nostalgia.
Perfect Days didn’t try to impress me. It didn’t rush me. It didn’t explain itself.
It simply existed and invited me to slow down and exist with it.
And somehow, that was enough.

Read More

Não precisa pôr nem tirar

Do começo ao fim, achei sem defeitos.
Me senti assistindo a um vlog daqueles que a pessoa quase não fala, isso no sentido de que o ator principal parecia não estar atuando, mas mostrando sua própria rotina (atuação 10/10 pro Koji, que profissional incrível).

Uma vida simples, mas cheia de gratidão. Nada de grandioso acontece, mas não precisa, e essa é a vida que a gente espera ter - na simplicidade, mas que difícil é.

Assistir a esse filme é como sentar em um lugar calmo e observar tudo o que existe em volta, mesmo que não seja quase nada, apenas uma árvore balançando seus galhos. É aquele respiro que a gente quer dar depois da correria e do nosso imediatismo. A esperança que encontramos para sermos pessoas melhores nos inspirando no protagonista, que vive um dia de cada vez.

Uma história que podia seguir por caminhos diferentes, mas que se deu ao trabalho de - não, não vamos desenvolver isso, vamos seguir sem mostrar nenhum desfecho -, de forma que não seguiu com nada mirabolante, e pra mim isso foi incrível. É um recorte da vida de uma pessoa que, mesmo que tenha problemas como qualquer outra, não deixa de ser feliz e vive no contentamento. Pareceu muito real pra mim.

Duas horas se passaram como num piscar de olhos. Fiquei com vontade de mais, mesmo que esse "mais" fosse a mesmice de cada dia.

Read More

E vamos a mais um indicado ao oscar de filme internacional, dessa vez o representante do Japão marca presença na lista dos 5, e diferente do Drive My Car de alguns anos atrás, dessa vez eu amei o indicado japonês. O filme segue a vida do sr. Hirayama. Um limpador de banheiros públicos, e pelo menos 40% do tempo desse filme se passa em banheiros, e o mais curioso disso, é que o filme é muito cativante. O filme tem muito da questão do valor ao trabalho, seja ele qual for, valor a rotina, a alegria das pequenas coisas, a simplicidade dos pequenos momentos que a vida nos dá, as bençãos que você só pode observar se parar para olhar ao seu redor. Esse filme tem 2 horas e conta com apenas 400 linhas de diálogo, tem episódio de série de 20min com mais diálogos que esse filme. E as poucas falas servem ao propósito do filme de ser um filme apreciativo. É lindo ver o Japão através desse filme. No mais, eu fico com o questionamento em mente, será que esse senhor seria tão feliz se tivesse que limpar os banheiros públicos do Brasil? kkkk porque os banheiros sujos desse filme não chegam nem perto das atrocidades que eu já vi aqui kkk. Filme excelente!

Read More