Alternate Best Actor 2023: Kōji Yakusho in Perfect Days

Kōji Yakusho did not receive an Oscar nomination, despite winning CANNES, for portraying Hirayama in Perfect Days.
 

Perfect Days follows a sanitation attendant through a week in his life. 

The last time I watched a film with Kōji Yakusho in it, it was the horrifying film Cure, so quite a shift in tones as I come into his work here as the attendant of the many public bathrooms of Tokyo. A performance that seems like all performance, while also being no performance, seemingly no great importance in what it is exploring, but also massive importance. And what I mean by all this, is the majority of this performance is just seeing a man going about his day of doing a job faithfully and consistently, listening to oldies (only when driving not while working), having lunch, taking the occasional picture of light coming through trees, visiting restaurants and occasionally some plant rescue. All of this is pretty just things that people do, given intimate detail by director Wim Wenders, with a focus being the whole notion of appreciating the day of this man. Yakusho's performance is just going through this action as Hirayama, who for much of the early scenes barely says a word, and we just see him living his life in the simplest sense of that idea. So what is the performance then? Well, it is kind of everything even the whole notion of it is also being absolutely nothing in terms of noticeable performance, just being as his, and as a performance. No more, no less. 

A person just existing may seem like an easy task to one who has never seen deadly dull performances of the ilk, so one must credit the specificity of the action, the editing and Yakusho's performance that the most mundane of moments are absolutely captivating here. Yakusho as the man about his job has a monk-like dedication as we see him go about every little segment of each bathroom with clear attention to detail and this focus. The man is here to do his job, and to do it right. There's ease in his action, even when dealing with less than ideal situations, like a man kicking over his caution sign without picking it up, Yakusho's performance shows Hirayama makes no particular note of it, he just keeps working. Even the nonsensical behavior of his far less focused co-worker, Yakusho shows a man not phased much by his less than stellar performance, rather just the conviction within his own work where everything is an exact task he will go about as a true professional. There's a minor slight disbelieving glance when his coworker is on his phone when doing the job, but even so he stays true and direct. Yakusho makes something wonderful about just a man doing his job, and in this case cleaning filth, that is wonderfully admirable as showing a man who is able to do it with a considerable ease in spirit. 

And perhaps we see the nature of the man most in the moments where he is not working, which big and small speak so loudly through honest poignancy realized in Yakusho's performance. Which is never cloying or forced in the idea of calm, it is just calm in a way that is mesmerizing in its way by how generous and pure it all seems. Take the first time someone ends the bathroom while he's working, which he quickly steps out for the minutes he needs to before proceeding again. Yakusho's performance as the man waiting isn't that of a man being impatient or annoyed by the moment; rather, you see him instead look up and take a moment in. And Yakusho's entirely wonderful in the way he makes this so genuine in the way Hirayama enjoys the little moments in life even as a quick respite between working, he still finds something worthwhile by just taking in the life around him. When we see him in lunch break, again we see the man just enjoying what he can, breathing in nature, taking in the sights he can see, and just finding the beauty of living in a way that feels so naturally earned through the delicate ease of Yakusho's performance. Although much of his reactions are specific, never do they feel as such as we just see him being him in a way that is entirely true to just being. 

When not working we see the man go about his day in a similar way that is built on routines, though this isn't about doldrums, rather it is about appreciation of these moments in fact. Take particularly when we see his hobby of saving interesting plants by picking them up and then planting them in his home garden. Yakusho makes the big statements so often not by saying anything at all, but also by his expression being equally quiet. He's not making big mime gestures, rather he's granting insight in such an easy way of a man who is very calm even in his expressiveness. But in this making the expressions he does have such a power to them, such as the generous pride we see in the slight smile as he goes about tending his garden clearly with a sense of love for this hobby. And there is the almost indescribable brilliance at times, of just little things he does, moving his fan from him to another, glancing at a rainstorm, enjoying his bath, getting a quick bit of excitement from a reaction to a baseball game all shouldn't exactly be captivating but they are. And again it isn't by Yakusho forcing us to enjoy his company, it just seems impossible to not enjoy it. What his performance is generous in spirit, in the way of inviting us in, though inviting us in the kind of purest empathy of showing a human trying just to be human. But always key to this, is basically showing that this is something worthwhile even in its seeming simplicity. 

After the first day what we examine between the routine mostly are what are the changes that he undergoes. Some changes are pretty minor, like a sincere bit of fun with playing a quick game of ongoing tic tac toe with an unknown user of the bathroom, but some are more substantial like when Hirayama ends up getting pulled into his coworkers fairly weak attempt to try woo a woman. And we get some great comedy as Hirayama's routine is disrupted by this and he's literally stuffed into the back of his own car as the younger pair pilot his car and his radio. As much as it is a sillier setup Yakusho's marvelous in the same way, but a new way. Same way in that this just the character so naturally, so remarkably, but what's new is what we see more of the man as he engages within the situation. He's funny as he makes sure they don't break his tapes as they use them, as well as just his general expression of quietly observing the situation, being awkward in a certain sense, while trying to be as natural as he can. Yakusho just being a joy to watch explore the scene, because we too are exploring with him in this interaction, and he's completely lovely in also bringing this ease of warmth when he admires the young woman's appreciation for his taste in music or even more so his extremely endearing head-shaking in just reflecting on this interaction. 

The button on that scene is the young woman bringing back one of the tapes she borrowed to hear it one more time, and Yakusho articulating the right sort of sense of connection and disconnection at the same time. Awkward but with understanding and like most scenes just watch what Yakusho is doing and there's so much life in there. Yakusho suggests life experience even when not saying it as the young woman ponders her own experiences and anguish it seems, with Yakusho being calm in his care and understanding. With the unexpected kiss on the cheek though being a tremendous scene by the perfectly acted moment by Yakusho of the genuine surprise of the older man who can take it as anything but something to be appreciated and a bit taken aback by. But tis the philosophy of this man it would seem who just is taking all as it is, and as much as he's a hard working man it seems life, even frequently alone, is east through the sense of appreciation for it that fills the scenes. Yakusho's performance is one of amplification in silence so often, that it is about as remarkable as it comes in the way he articulates the way of the man. Whether it be reading a book with interest, or just taking a moment to appreciate a live performance of a bar owner, with the deepest care that has such a tremendous power in his reaction because it speaks so strongly to the philosophy of the man. 

Of course who this man was before this point in his life, well we finally figured some of that out when his niece unexpectedly turns up on his doorstep after running away from home. Yakusho is outstanding in seeing here because he again couldn't be more genuine in granting an immediate sense of history as he looks in confusion at first but then slowly this loving realization of his family along with the years that have gone by in his delivery of her name. We now see the break in the routine and Yakusho is fantastic in being different, though still so natural, in showing the man with a bit more required self-awareness as he now knows he's being watched by his niece. Yakusho now does things with a bit more of a rush at times, a bit more of a show as he attempts to in a way now do his routine while presenting his routine to his niece. It isn't this painstaking difference, but subtle in Yakusho's performance that shows a break in his equilibrium. Not an unpleasant break mind you, but a break from it. Even though he has a moment where he's a bit more self-aware in the way he goes about his apartment now, we also see the poignant warmth as he goes about sharing his experience with his niece. Bringing the sense of an innate love even when needing to fumble about a bit such as ask what shop "spotify" is, bringing the natural humor of the man of his generation with an elegant purity to  Hirayama absolutely just being who he is as he is. 

We have such moments of tender beauty, such as when Hirayama shows off his old camera with that certain easy pride of a man who just loves to do things his way, while also being taken aback as she shows off a gift he once gave her to which he has no memory but attempts to put on the grace of an uncle about it. With their being the most pleasant of suggestions of this relationship as you see the connection of long ago, even as again she kind of questions his state, such as his tree picture taking and there is again something so special in the sincerity of Yakusho's smile at the very idea of the question. Yakusho's performance expresses itself in new ways even as consistent in his ways, as we see the man with specific familial connection, and it is fascinating. As despite the man always being alone, you never sense him being truly lonely, but what Yakusho presents in these scenes is that while the man isn't desperate for the connection the appreciation for such a connection isn't something he'd ever hide. With Yakusho so honestly creating the years of separation in the emphasis on the certain discovery, but so much the real love in the brightness of his smile every time she indicates she always wanted to see him again, even if he might not be able to fully decipher the reason immediately. 

 

We have probably one of the longest talking scenes up till this point in the film as Hirayama briefly comments on the relationship between himself and his sister. Yakusho is truly amazing in this scene as we get Hirayama's simple yet profound statements in the nature of there being different worlds for different people to explore, and he and his sister are in two different worlds in that respect. It isn't with heartache Yakusho speaks the words, nor pompous disregard, rather a concise understanding of where this man finds his happiness in his life. The next moment is even more tremendous of a moment, as modest as Yakusho's delivery is, as the niece asks about the next time they'll meet and Hirayama simply says "next time is next time" "today is today". Yakusho speaks with the utmost conviction albeit also so gently in his way, and really with such a sense of jubilation that it is hard not to be inspired to take his the idea he's projecting to heart. As you see in his voice, in his eyes, and his whole demeanor that this is fundamental to the man, and his belief in life, which we have seen throughout the film up until this point, we just didn't realize it. His scene with his sister perhaps speaks even more to the man, as she comes to pick up her daughter from him. It's an extraordinary scene because both actors immediately, you know these two are siblings, not the closest, but you do sense the ease of siblings, even as they exist in "different worlds" as he describes it. And you do see the different worlds, just as you see the history, as he smiles with such a brotherly smile as she brings him his favorite chocolate as a thank you, but you do see the separate world as she asks if he's really cleaning toilets with a bit of judgment, to where we see in Yakusho a man without a shame a man who is who he is and will be that. But in their final embrace, no more words, but the connection is fundamental, is truly deeply felt, and you do see understanding even if still separation. With one of the most emotional moments from Yakusho words, which speaks volumes from his reserve, as we do see a bit of sorrow as he breaks down briefly, where even in acceptance in his relationship Yakusho naturally reveals, acceptance doesn't mean sadness can't exist within that.

We continue another the break in the routine, in what perhaps speaks most strongly about the idea of appreciating the little things, can sometimes not even be enough, when you are overworked to the bone and not allowed to appreciate them. As Yakusho's co-worker quits with little notice leaving the man to do the most evil of punishments...the regrettable double shift. And within this sequence we see that his equilibrium being broken, by being asked to do more than he should in all rights have to do, shows the man still working diligently, but now instead of a profession he's truly just doing his job as an overworked job. He's moving around just to do things, just going from place to place, there's no calm, there's no focus in the job, but most of all we see that he can't take those seconds to appreciate life because he only has more and more work to do. Yakusho shows perhaps so simply this pain in this by showing us the natural joy the man finds in life being lost, and replaced with annoyed frustration at this state. Leaving his exasperated delivery of needing his bosses to find someone, as the man truly having enough when far too much is being asked of him. 

True to form, when he gets a new coworker the next day, peace can be found, and honestly it's hard not to feel the same immense relief that Hirayama feels. We have the final break that occurs by accident, as he stumbles into a bar at the wrong time, to find the owner and a man embracing, causing Hirayama to run off. Great acting by Yakusho in just completely embodying many of what many have also had, which is the "ooh didn't mean to step into a personal moment, I will try to erase myself from existence as quickly as possible". That's not the break actually, rather the break is when the man (Tomokazu Miura), misinterpreting Hirayama's quick exit, tracks down Hirayama to try to explain the situation, as the man thought Hirayama might've had some closer relationship with the bar owner, which he did not. What follows is just an extraordinary scene, and one of the very best of 2023. Yakusho begins in just being taken aback a little confused by the sudden appearance but welcoming enough as he can be, as the man asks for cigarette off of him, before inquiring more, where Yakusho grants Hirayama just the perfect look of a man who just is trying not to focus too much on his accidental embarrassment. The man reveals himself to be her ex-husband, which you see the tension of trying to be a distant stay in Yakusho, until the man reveals that he is dying of cancer. Yakusho gives one of the most beautiful portrayals of human empathy as his face falls in hearing this news, losing the awkwardness and switching to trying to now immediately find some kind of connection as he offers the man a beer and a bit of friendship. Yakusho being so wonderful in the way he just listens to the man, even if he has to gently explain he's not in any relationship with his ex wife, and exudes just the utmost generous warmth in his endearing smile towards the man. 

 

A smile that comes as the man ponders if shadows get darker when on top of each other, to which Yakusho invites the man over to check, and well Yakusho portrays it as though Hirayama has become a boy who found a friend to play with on a playground. Bringing this perfect combination of the weight of what he just heard but this energy of a man trying to bring a bit of happiness to another in such a desperate time. When both men start trying to jump on each other's shadows, the chemistry and the connection couldn't feel more honest or natural, and couldn't be more heartwarming. As both actors are just kids again in the moment, and in that you see the men be able to share in a simple joy of life, if for a minute, but what an essential minute that is. Yakusho's performance here is masterful in a way that you don't often see, but when you do it is a treasure to behold. As it is completely effortless, never do you feel performance or look at performance. It isn't a performance about accents or the most extreme moments of human condition. It is a performance about the human condition, capturing in a way few performances do, by making every little gesture, every reaction and every interaction something special and a pleasure to behold in itself. And this review simply wouldn't be complete if I didn't mention his final scene, of Hirayama starting his week again by driving to his job early in the morning while listening to his music and seemingly taking a moment for reflection on what it means to be human. Yakusho's expression of Hirayama in this moment in a way seems to express it all, as there is the bitter with the sweet, joy with the sorrow, intense happiness, with tragedy as Yakusho seems to go through almost every emotion between that gap of sadness and jubilation. With such a fundamental ease in his performance that it is just particularly stunning bit of acting, particularly at the very end where he in the same expression you see tremendous joy with tremendous sadness, which doesn't feel contrived, doesn't feel forced, rather it feels just like the truth of what any one of us can experience, expressed with the utmost perfection from a performer. Perfection because never does it feel like acting, it just is, is in a way that is this whole performance, that can bring every one of us into a singular life of an elderly Japanese man cleaning toilets and not make it remotely foreign but rather profoundly universal.