Perfect Days: When "Now is Now" Isn't As Simple As It Seems

PERFECT DAYS: When “Now is Now” Isn’t as Simple as It Seems

Hirayama (Kôji Yakusho) cleans toilets in Wim Wenders 2023 film, Perfect Days. He cleans with perfect attentiveness and precision. Hirayama cares about what he does. He cares with the peacefulness of a man who seems happy in his very routine days. I say “seems” because living in the “now” as Hirayama has perfected, isn’t always as simple as it appears. No, coping with trauma can make you convince yourself that “Now is Now and Later is Later,” as if later doesn’t exist at all. And, the reasons for that are not as straightforward as just deciding to live in the now.

If we watch and listen closely, Hirayama has a complicated past. He’s estranged from his sister for reasons not entirely clear. But there is pain there, and difficult family circumstances have likely forced him to develop self-protection against that pain. Hence, he is living in the “now.”

Coping With Pain by Living in “Now”

Living in the “now” can be a good thing, don’t get me wrong. It can mean that you are present with the moments of your life, take in your experiences, and don’t miss out.

But such a routinized and laser focus as Hirayama’s often has other reasons. Those reasons have to do with pain from trauma, loss, hurt, or rejection. Such singular concentration can be used to block everything else out. Anything that might intrude into your mind and bring back the pain.

Numbing. Blocking out thoughts. Distracting yourself. These are trauma responses. Does Hirayama have trauma in his past? We aren’t more aware of it than he allows himself to be.

But there are hints in Perfect Days. Like in his niece Niko’s (Arisa Nakano) sudden arrival, having run away from home. He’s kind. Hirayama is kind to everyone. To a fault. He even gives his frantic, unreliable, fantasy-driven co-worker, Takashi (Tokio Emoto), money to pursue an impossible dream. But in his niece’s stay with him, her wish not to go home, her questions about why he and her mom don’t get along, we know there’s something in the air.

Hirayama brushes off her question: “We live different lives.” When she almost begs him to make plans for another visit “later” while riding bicycles, he engages her in a sing-song chant: “Now is Now; Later is Later. Now is Now; Later is Later.” Hirayama won’t think beyond “now.”

Why “Later is Later” & “The Past is Past”

How often have you heard someone say: “That shouldn’t bother me anymore. It’s in the past.” The past doesn’t just go away. It needs to be worked out, to be heard and seen. And, if you don’t have that kind of compassion in your life, you are left to develop ways to block out the past.

Especially if it’s been painful. Trauma equals pain. Pain is hard to live with. Sometimes it’s too sad. Or the memories are invasive and excruciating. Convincing yourself “the past is the past,” is one way to try to move on. That is if it works. Until there’s a trigger, “it’s over,” is temporary.

“The Past is Past” and “Later is Later” are ways to try to convince yourself that neither exists. But when the past comes to visit in a trigger (Hirayama’s niece or his sister,) it’s hard to avoid the pain.

That’s what happens in Perfect Days.

Triggers of Pain from the Past

Have you heard about triggers? Triggers are unexpected situations that stir up the feelings you’re trying not to feel. They’re reminders from the past that you’ve done your best to block out.

Living in the now, in the comforting sameness of his day-by-day regimen, Hirayama has little that is different or unexpected. He doesn’t allow it. Unexpected can be a trigger. His days and contacts are well-controlled. He chooses them. Chooses to be kind to a homeless woman. To his co-worker.

He chooses to be warm to “Mama” the owner of the restaurant he frequents and she is kind and nurturing to him. But when she hugs another man, some sadness and longing are triggered.

Later when Hirayama unexpectedly meets her ex-husband in a dark, lonely place near the sea, the guilty, dying man asks him to “look after her.” “It’s not like that,” Hirayama replies. Does he wish it was? Does this trigger a loss? Perhaps the loss of his mother; or her unavailability?

If so, that’s not Perfect Days.

We don’t know. But the sudden visit from Niko is met with mixed feelings. He welcomes her, sort of, and makes the best of being her uncle. Yet, she’s intruded into his carefully orchestrated life.

When his sister, Keiko (Yumi Asō), arrives even more feeling breaks through. It makes you wonder what Hirayama might be running from. When she tells him that their father is dying, tears come into his eyes. She’s wealthy. Was he from a wealthy family that he rejected? Or who rejected him?

Hirayama’s past remains a mystery, but the fact that his life and days aren’t “perfect,” doesn’t.

Sadness Breaks Through Into “Now”

Hirayama wants to believe his days are content, but they aren’t as perfect as they seem. That’s real life, with the reality of a range of feelings we all have, as much as trauma makes you block them.

Sadness can be hard to bear, and sadness is what Hirayama has. Even though he does his best not to know.

There’s sadness at the news of his father. Sadness and longing in his encounter with Mama. And, likely sadness at the estrangement from his family, although he may tell himself it is his choice.

When Perfect Days begins, Hirayama’s face doesn’t reveal anything other than focus and content. Yet, that isn’t his whole story. Life has a way of breaking through even the most carefully wrought self-protections. Feelings do get triggered. That’s because having feelings is human. No one is a robot.

As Perfect Days unfolds and draws to a close, Hirayama shows us feelings, subtly etched into his face and quickly disappearing. As he drives his car in the parting shot, he isn't sure if he wants to laugh or cry. A more human picture of a disciplined man managing loneliness the best he can.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Dr. Sandra E. Cohen

I’m Dr. Sandra Cohen, a psychologist and psychoanalyst in private practice in Beverly Hills, CA. I write about Film to offer insight into the real human problems revealed on the screen in the character's psychological struggles. I work with individuals and creatives who want a chance to do personal work. Call at 310.273.4827 or email me at sandracohenphd@gmail.com to schedule a confidential discussion to explore working together. I offer a complimentary 25-minute Zoom consultation.

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