Perfect days

“Perfect Days” is a sublime film, which we had the pleasure to watch at the recent New York Film Festival. The two-hour meditation highlights the life of an affable public toilet cleaner in Tokyo named Hirayama who accomplishes with immense dedication and dignity his supposedly humble job.

A collaboration of German writer-director Wim Wenders and Japanese scriptwriter Takuma Takasaki, Perfect Days explores the simplistic structured life of Hirayama and his fastidious routine of cleaning public toilets and whose passion revolves around music, books and trees – his favorite photography subjects.

I watched the film with a curious question of what defines as perfect days for a middle-aged man who lives alone and delights in his unique job. In Japan, in ultra modern Tokyo most particularly, toilets are iconic places with designs varying from the eccentric to the avant-garde, Zen-like or state-of-the art. It was not surprising when towards the end of the pre-screening discussion, Japanese actor Koji Yakusho, who essayed the role of Hirayama, invited the audience to enjoy the film and to “please come to Tokyo and visit our public toilets.”

His sense of pride is understandable because even a transit passenger in any of Japan’s international airports would instantly have a satisfying feel of the country’s unconventional tourist attractions.

The film tells of the repetitive daily routine of Hirayama: from his waking in the morning to his drive to work (as he hums along with cassette music, sips coffee), the fussy way he scrubs every toilet bowl while using a mirror to guarantee its spotlessness, up to the time he rests for lunch at his favorite park to admire and photograph towering trees, then goes back to work again, heads home and caps the day reading a favorite book.

On some days his schedule is punctuated with a refreshing soak in a public bath and a nourishing meal at his favorite eatery akin to our carinderia. On weekends, he visits the laundromat, the bookstore, a shop to have a roll of film developed and to relish a meal at a cozy cafe run solely by a lady named Mama, who Hirayama apparently likes.

Hirayama is a kind soul who loaned his last few yens to a young co-worker going on a first date. For a few nights he gave up his futon for a teenage niece who left home after a fight with her mother. Hirayama cramped himself to sleep beneath a cupboard and in the morning still beamed with appreciation at the smiling sun before heading to work.

A man of few words (he was monosyllabic all throughout the movie), Hirayama’s state of being and character are eloquently articulated through the squinting of his eyes, his respectful gesture to immediately leave his workplace when guests need to use the toilet urgently or the serene smile of content he exudes after a day’s work.

All throughout the screening, the protagonist’s everyday tableau did not bore me at all but, on the contrary, allowed me to contemplate on my own version of perfect days.

Our New York posting altered the rhythm of what used to be predictable expectations in a foreign assignment. In this city, “the capital of the world” where the dominant culture is a mishmash of many others, blending in was uncomplicated, made simpler by the ease of language.

In a cultural mecca where massive museums and cherished historical places brim, a week’s calendar is not enough to embark on remarkable explorations. Invitations to symphony orchestras, operas, plays, tea parties, cooking lessons, the city garden club, park visits, quilting groups, art exhibits, book clubs or yoga abound.

Every month some of these activities are arranged by a team of generous lady volunteers from the hospitality committee of the UN one has to simply sign up for a slot. At first I wanted to attend most of the events but as I eventually explored the city on my own, I realized the need to handle my social calendar into manageable levels to give way to my personal growth while balancing equally essential domestic duties. And it is in doing the latter where I found Hirayama’s perfect days relatable.

Of all the chores, cooking is my forte while needlework and jobs related to clothes, ironing especially, are my waterloo. I do not enjoy ironing very much because my level of frustration rises, especially when after so much pressing I still spot a crumple on the clothing. This happened a couple of times that if my finished work were to be graded, I would always get a D instead of an A. After consulting with a friend who advised me to use a particular spray and adjust the flat iron to a precise setting, I finally achieved the finished product I always envisioned. I now like ironing and I oftentimes ponder on how it allows me to metaphorically contemplate on some actions I ought to do to smooth out the creases of life.

After the movie we were fortunate to have an intimate 20-minute Q&A with Mr. Yasuko and Mr. Takasaki. I asked how he internalized Hirayama’s role and the preparations that went with it. Mr. Yasuko said he trained and actually cleaned several toilets in Tokyo. In the actual shooting of the film there were no takes two or three, thus making the movie a kind of documentary, except that the public toilet cleaner is a popular actor. Mr. Yasuko said he eventually found cleaning the toilets meditative and Mr. Takasaki agreed that it is indeed contemplative because in their culture, one achieves a certain level of otherworldliness or spirituality in doing such a task.

In our “domestic policy,” cleaning the toilet is delegated to the hubby. But on days when he is remiss of his duty, I do not mind pinch-hitting at all. Call it perfect days because I sometimes do this while the laundry spins and the adobo stews.