I enjoyed this a lot, even if I can see the merit of Frank Falisi’s critque on the romanticization of Hirayama’s labor. Koji Yakusho is almost wordless in the early going, yet so expressive in gesture and expression. The final scene hints at a big change in Hirayama’s life, but I could easily see another cut to a dream sequence ended by the sounds of sweeping outside his window and another start to the same routine, which is its own quiet form of heartbreak.