At first, I almost turned it off. The film opens with scenes of human waste collection, and I was eating dinner. The smell seemed to seep through the screen, and I thought, "Why am I watching this?"
But I kept going. And I'm so glad I did.
'Sekai no Okiku' is not just a story about a man who collects excrement. It's about how society treats those who deal with what it wants to forget. It's about shame, class, and what it means to live in a body that others recoil from, because you can't wash away the stench.
The film is quiet and poetic, with black-and-white cinematography that feels almost sacred. It reminded me of Wim Wenders' Perfect Days in its reverence for the quiet beauty of repetitive labor. Both films elevate toilet cleaning into something contemplative and almost transcendental. But what struck me most was the love story. A woman who sees the man behind the stench, behind the role.
This is not a movie for everyone. It demands patience. It confronts the viewer. But if you let it, it will give you something very rare: a deep, compassionate look at the parts of humanity we usually flush away.
