I saw it as a kind of poem about happiness in fair, simple terms , as refuge against high expectations and social pressure, as precise portrait of the relation with the others.
I saw it, in same measure, as a sort of idealisation of life, moral lesson, fair portrait of lonely man and cold definition of truth..
Not less, I saw it as portrait of me, sure, in basic terms, with large slices of desire to real be.
But, out of this identification with Hirayama, Perfect Days has the gift to be a beautiful, admirable crafted, scene by scene, film. In essence, this is the real thing matters . Near the great music. A beautiful exploration by Wim Wenders of dreams of his audience , with some bovaric touch, about a life who was not him.
