The Oscar-nominated film, aptly directed by German director Wim Wenders, delves into the life of Mr Hirayama, a public toilet cleaner in Tokyo city. The protagonist’s role is played by the very talented Koji Yakusho, who received the Cannes Best Actor 2023 Award for this role.
A perfect day for a commoner in this economy will perhaps mean being able to splurge without putting a dent in their wallets. However, it takes more than money to build a life with many perfect days in it, it takes a person like Mr Hirayama, who finds comfort in the ordinary.
Hirayama leads a simple, round-the-clock life. He wakes up at the crack of dawn in his modest residence, waters his maple seedlings, meticulously grooms himself, gets his daily caffeine shot from the same vending machine right beside his home, and drives in his van to his first assignment. His personal soundtrack collection enlists British and American rock music from the 60s and 70s. He shuffles through his cassettes each morning to find what would complement his mood that day. His car rides occupy a significant portion of the screen time throughout the film, and when coupled with the music, they put the audience in a trance-like state, as if they are on the drive with him.
His days are all the same. The blue uniform from The Tokyo Toilet makes him invisible to the public eye. He silently steps out when somebody walks in to use the loo, and as he waits, he observes. He is fully present in the moment as he notices the interplay of light and shadow in the trees, the people outside, and even the homeless vagabond who camouflages himself in plain sight. He meticulously does his job, and carries a mirror to look for any missed spot, although his co-worker chimes in: “No need to bother, it’ll get dirty again”. He has the same lunch, goes to the same bar, and crosses the same road everyday. Surprisingly, his ascetic nature does not bore the audience, rather it interests them, thanks to the masterful portrayal of the protagonist by Koji Yakusho.
The film progresses slowly, revolving around Hirayama’s disciplined life, with every hour accounted for and no looming conflicts ahead. Perhaps it is because Hirayama is selectively social. He is cordial and kind when he needs to. He maintains his inner peace through his equanimity. The dialogues in the film are mostly conveyed by the characters around him, and he manages to get by with nods, gestures, and a few cursory words in most cases. The first time he speaks is 13 minutes into the film, and it is only to soothe a child he finds locked in the toilet.
There are many such quiet moments to ponder over in the film. His zen lifestyle strongly promotes building a bond with nature. During his lunch break at the park, he captures the sunlight playing hide and seek with the Maple leaves with his point-and-shoot camera. He is particularly nurturing towards his saplings at home, a part of his daily rituals. He changes his film stock weekly, prints the pictures, carefully logs them, and stores them away. Although this routine may seem repetitive, for him, it is a form of meditation.
Hirayama is not particularly concerned with the latest technological advancements and is content with his analogue lifestyle. He marvels and clicks away at the trees in the park but the Tokyo Skytree is just another monument to him. His niece’s iPhone is easily substituted by his Olympus Mju-I film camera, and despite their high market value, his vintage cassette tapes remain invaluable to him. Even the toilets he cleans are examples of Japanese architectural genius and modernity. It is rare yet refreshing to see someone unfazed by the rapid digitization all around and holding onto his own simple forms of entertainment.
The latter half of the film offers a glimpse into Hirayama’s family ties, indicating that he comes from a privileged background himself. Nonetheless, he accepts life and its divergence gracefully, without glorifying the exalted lifestyle or falling into despair. Hirayama is portrayed as a true believer in life’s natural timing for things to come, expressing it in his own words: “Next time is next time. Now is now”. The narrative starts slow and the pace never really changes. Yet, following him around town and observing his quiet, secluded lifestyle amid the hubbubs of Tokyo, one cannot help but sense his peaceful rebellion and feel liberated and hopeful.
The film ends with another scene from Hirayama's familiar, life-affirming, and tasteful routine. As “Feeling Good” by Nina Simone plays in the van, actor Koji Yakusho, portraying Hirayama drives off with renewed hope glimmering in his eyes.
This Japan-Germany co-production was successful due to Koji Yakusho's remarkable performance and Wim Wenders' film craft, earning it a well-deserved Oscar nomination for Best International Feature Film this year.
Benazir Elahee Munni is a Lecturer at the Department of English, University of Dhaka