shadows don't get darker when they overlap

When I first watched Wim Wenders' Perfect Days last summer, I interpreted it as showing us that no matter how troubled our past may be, we still have the capacity to find joy and beauty in the everyday. For much of the film, this is the attitude that the protagonist, Hirayama, displays towards his life -- outside of his job as a toilet cleaner, he has a predilection for taking photos of sunlight shining through trees, listening to cassette tapes, and reading literature. Despite his solitary lifestyle, Hirayama seems to be satisfied by being deeply present in the world and appreciating these simple pleasures. However, upon second viewing, the film evinces a subtler message -- one revolving around vulnerability in human relationships, and our need for connecting with each other.

Throughout his daily routine, aside from brief encounters with people at the park and at the restaurant, Hirayama's life is devoid of significant human relationships. He seems to have adopted this solitary lifestyle as a way to escape his trauma from the past, a past that he is taciturn about due to his focus on living in the present. The first time we see Hirayama spending most of his day with another person is when his niece, Niko, visits him, and they bike and enjoy time in the park together. When Hirayama's sister comes to pick up Niko, we are provided a little insight into his past. She informs Hirayama that their father is ailing, and asks him if he is willing to see him, adding that their father is not like what he was in the past. After this interaction, Hirayama cries, signalling he's been reminded of the pain from his past -- a past that he cannot completely evade.

In the penultimate sequence of the film, Hirayama is along a path overlooking the water at night, when another man appears. This man is the former husband of the owner of the restaurant that Hirayama frequents, and he shares that he's been diagnosed with cancer and doesn't have much time left. He tries explaining to Hirayama why he visited her for a final time, and realizes that it wasn't that he wanted to apologize to her, nor that he wanted to thank her -- but that he just wanted to see her. He also urges Hirayama to take care of her for him after he's gone. At this point, Hirayama is still uncomfortable listening to this man share such personal information about his life, and also rejects his ask to take care of her, saying "we're not like that".

The man then poses a brilliant question, "Shadows, do they get darker when they overlap?" Hirayama positions himself so that his shadow overlaps with the other man's, and he realizes, to his surprise, that the shadows don't get darker. They then enjoy a game of shadow tag where they try to touch each other's shadows. This, to me, is the most beautiful part of the film, the part where Hirayama starts changing his beliefs about human relationships. The shadows symbolize the dark parts of our lives, the parts we're afraid to talk about. We've all been hurt by people before, we've all had times where we've felt mentally low. It's a lot easier to isolate ourselves than risk being vulnerable with each other. Yet Hirayama realizes that when we share our pain with each other, it's not going to make the pain worse; on the contrary, sharing our stories with others is what allows us to move toward meaning, toward solace. Furthermore, we all have a responsibility to take care of each other and do what we can to improve each other's well-being, even for those we're not extremely close with. Although the ending is left ambiguous, I'm hopeful that Hirayama is now more open to engaging in the relationships he's previously avoided, knowing that human connection is essential to living a fulfilling life.