Perfect Days
Such a special film. The cinematic equivalent of lying face-up in the pool with your ears underwater; calm, familiar, muted, and it gives you the chance to really appreciate the sky and the trees above you.
I found this film at just the right time. Life can so often feel dull and repetitive in an almost existential sense. Looking at my own life zoomed out, it's so easy to come to the conclusion that I'm moving too slowly, that I'm learning too little, that I'm ignoring too many opportunities. Perfect Days has so many chances to become that kind of film, to send out that kind of message; it even at times feels like it is structured to do so. But miraculously, graciously, it refuses. Perfect Days chooses to zoom in rather than out, to focus both on the beauty of repetition and the ever-present variations and surprises that a new day can bring. Hirayama does not loathe nor regret his simple life, he does not get caught up in the stagnation of his work; instead he chooses to dedicate his attention to the things that make that life unique and beautiful: the leaves on a tree, a tic-tac-toe game with a stranger, or a new book. Hirayama understands what I forget all too often: that life happens day by day, and even a day that brings about nothing of worth, that is marked only by torn up photographs and nearly-expired cup noodles, is still a day worth living. We continue to exist, we continue to contribute, and we continue to touch the lives of others, whether we like it or not. Happiness is not found in a job or a grade, but it just may be found in a houseplant, or a photograph, or a cassette tape.