By Sarah Field
Over the winter break, I flew back to Shanghai to visit my family. On the car ride home, I
rambled on about the details of characters, designs, and plotlines that I was carefully
constructing for my next short film. My story was simple, but I just couldn’t find a way to end it. I spent hours deciphering these made-up characters and their goals and aspirations. Why would this character want to do that? What made this character do this other thing? As I looked to my dad for writing advice, he slowed down my train of thought with just one question. Pointing at the crowds rushing through the busy streets,
rambled on about the details of characters, designs, and plotlines that I was carefully
constructing for my next short film. My story was simple, but I just couldn’t find a way to end it. I spent hours deciphering these made-up characters and their goals and aspirations. Why would this character want to do that? What made this character do this other thing? As I looked to my dad for writing advice, he slowed down my train of thought with just one question. Pointing at the crowds rushing through the busy streets,
“Do you ever wonder what people’s goals and purposes in life are?”
A question that stunned me because, as an artist, I was too busy trying to say something to slow down and just observe.
Perfect Days, directed by Wim Wenders, is a two-hour-long look into the life of a toilet cleaner in Tokyo. His life, although mundane, is filled with enjoyment and satisfaction. (It is up to personal interpretation if Hirayama is/was truly happy, but I will be interpreting it as contempt.) He’s just a chill guy who likes to read books, listen to ’60s music, and take pictures. It is so easy to get caught up in the lies forcefed by capitalism of ambition and success. You must be rich to be happy. You must be successful to be happy. But in reality, happiness comes from a mindset of love and acceptance, not materialistic goals.
Perfect Days doesn’t just depict an observational lifestyle; it invites us to participate in it. For two hours, we watch, we listen, and we feel. We are reminded to slow down, to take in the details, and to pay attention. In a world that constantly pushes us to move faster, strive harder, and want more, this film offers a quiet rebellion: the idea that a life well-lived is not necessarily one of grand achievements but one of presence.
Observation is a form of art, it is a way for people to notice the world around them. It’s easy to overlook the beauty of the everyday when we’re too preoccupied with our own narratives. We get so caught up in the idea of progress—constantly working towards the next goal, the next achievement, the next milestone—that we forget to appreciate the moments unfolding right in front of us. But Perfect Days reminds us of the art of simply being.
Hirayama doesn’t need grand ambitions to find meaning in his life. His routine may seem
ordinary on the surface, but within that routine lies a quiet fulfillment. He wakes up to the same morning light, follows the same path to work, listens to the same music, and yet, each day is uniquely beautiful in its own way. There’s a deep serenity in the way he experiences life, not as a means to an end, but as something inherently worth savoring. His happiness isn’t tied to external validation; it’s found in the ritual of watering plants, capturing fleeting moments on his camera, and feeling the warmth of the sun on his face.
As a storyteller, I often think about how to craft meaning through characters and narratives. But my dad’s question—and this film—reminded me that meaning isn’t always something that needs to be constructed. Sometimes, it just exists. And sometimes, the most profound stories aren’t the ones we tell, but the ones we take the time to notice.
Observation is an art. And maybe, in learning to observe, we also learn to live.
Leave a Reply