I’m Still Here is adapted from the autobiographical novel Ainda Estou Aqui by Salles’s contemporary, the writer Marcelo Rubens Paiva. The novel recounts Paiva’s father’s disappearance in 1971, under the repressive dictatorship of Emílio Garrastazu Médici, through the memories of the author’s mother, Eunice Paiva.

In Salles’s film, the Paivas lead an enchanted life in a house facing Leblon beach in Rio de Janeiro, until the long arm of the military regime wrecks their dream.

Beloved family head, Rubens (Selton Mello), an engineer and congressman secretly collaborating with the underground opposition, is kidnapped by state police under the pretence of a routine interrogation. It then befalls his wife Eunice (Fernanda Torres) to sustain family life and give their children a sense of future while trying to find out what happened to her husband.

It’s the second act of the film, particularly the harrowing yet restrained sequences of Eunice’s days-long detention, that reveal the stakes of the story. Her traumatic experience in jail and increasingly desperate search for her husband afterwards is framed as a transformative journey. It’s one that will culminate 25 years later, when the memory of the disappeared is reinstated in the official archives of the nation’s history.

I’m Still Here adopts a linear style of storytelling and classical three-act structure (stability, disruption, reparation) that serves historical closure, reinforced by the display of the Paiva family’s photographic archive in the closing credits.

This familiar convention takes on a special poignancy in I’m Still Here, where the private archive is a powerful alternative to a discredited “official” media narrative. The reconstruction of everyday life conveys endurance and resistance. This in turn brings to the fore the gendered dynamics of the Paiva household.

Rubens’s underground political activity against the regime means that he leads a double life to which Eunice, for all her loving closeness to her husband, remains ignorant of. This is sorely tested when Rubens disappears. With him the main source of income, it leaves Eunice and the children to cobble together a new existence in São Paulo.

Adopting Eunice’s perspective throughout, the film observes how her relationship with her eldest daughters begins to fracture as they find different ways of coping with traumatic loss and an uncertain future. However, the film stays clear of melodrama, leaving Eunice to internalize the process instead.

In the lead role, the prolific 59-year-old actor Fernanda Torres carries the film as effortlessly in fitted pencil skirts and chic geometric patterns of late 1960s fashion. Her screen chemistry with the slightly younger Selton Mello – they are the perfect couple while happiness lasts – is palpable.

Torres’s controlled, nuanced performance navigates the family’s shift in fortunes with measured calm and steely determination, even as she gradually comes to terms with the fact that she’s on her own.
In this way, the film is a clear-cut tribute to a “feminine” politics of resilience. This matches the preference for a linear biopic over focus on fraught alliances and betrayals that may have determined the course of 1970s political life in Brazil.

Despite its stark subject matter and suffering heroine, the retro pleasures of I’m Still Here form one of the film’s strongest aspects. The measure of the family’s loss is given by a sweeping first act. Despite the all too readable signs of what’s to come (the film opens with Eunice enjoying a solitary swim in crystalline waters, disturbed by the sound of helicopters hovering above), the viewer is invited to live in the joyous present of the Paiva household.

The dynamic camerawork captures the energy of the children, connecting the space of the beach with the open-doors house where Eunice and Rubens act as genial hosts for their friends.

Through references to the vibrant tropicália musical movement the film celebrates and mourns not only the centrality of music to Brazilian cultural life, but the tastes of a cosmopolitan, white liberal middle class (to which Salles also belongs) whose lives and aspirations were cut short by the dictatorship.

Torres’s real-life mother, the decorated Brazilian actress Fernanda Montenegro, plays the older Eunice in the film’s closing scenes. The match is near perfect, as they both command the same intense yet guarded look.

Eunice’s character arc signifies the nation’s rise to consciousness. She goes back to study in her forties, becoming a lawyer working on behalf of the rights of indigenous women and in support of the families of the disappeared.

This personal engagement in justice and reparation is blighted by dementia. In 2014, the nonagenarian Eunice played by Montenegro is a silent, wheelchair-bound Alzheimer sufferer. This epilogue, shot in bleached digital textures vividly contrasts with the vibrant memories captured in the (recreated) Super-8 films shot by the Paivas.

As Brazil pulls itself together after the twin catastrophes of COVID and Bolsonarism, I’m Still Here’s cautionary tale for the present may be curtailed by the fact that its emotional core is placed so firmly in mourning its past, depicted as a idyllic moment of happiness and optimism before Brazil was robbed of its future.

Belén Vidal is a reader in Film Studies at King’s College London.

This article was originally published in The Conversation. Read the original article here: https://theconversation.com/im-still-here-a-vibrant-testament-to-female-resilience-that-mourns-brazils-dark-past-250194

This is only the second time a Brazilian film has competed for Best Picture. The last nomination was in 1985 for the thriller-romance ‘Kiss of the Spider Woman,’ featuring Raul Julia and Sônia Braga, directed by Héctor Babenco, which competed in four categories.

‘I’m Still Here,’ based on Marcelo Rubens Paiva’s book, tells the true story of his father Rubens Paiva, a victim of Brazil’s dictatorship. The focus, however, is on his wife, Eunice Paiva, portrayed by Fernanda Torres in her youth and Fernanda Montenegro in her later years. She faced the tragedy of her husband’s disappearance during the regime, played by Selton Mello.

Interestingly, this nomination comes 26 years after Walter Salles’ drama ‘Central Station’ (1998) was nominated for Best Foreign Language Film. Fernanda Montenegro, Fernanda Torres’ mother and the film’s protagonist, was nominated for Best Actress but lost to Gwyneth Paltrow for ‘Shakespeare in Love’ in 1999.

President Lula commented on the event by congratulating the movie cast and cleverly mixing the post’s content with a well-known Brazilian joke about the local football championship, where a player who scores three goals in a match gets to request a song on Fantástico, a famous Sunday TV show, to celebrate his achievement.

A rough translation of the president’s post on X: “The ‘I’m Still Here’ gang can now request a song. Three Oscar nominations: Best International Film, Best Actress, and check it out, BEST FILM. I’m so proud! Kisses to Fernanda Torres and Walter Salles.”

A fun fact is that Brazilians are known for ruling the internet. Recent examples include the Golden Globe’s Instagram post about the nominations, which got a record-breaking number of comments, as well as a New York Times piece about Fernanda Torres and her mother, and a Le Monde article criticizing the movie, showing how passionate and engaged the country fans are.

What are the odds?

Brasil de Fato’s Central do Brasil program interviewed Elzemann Neves, a director, screenwriter, playwright, and professor at the International Academy of Cinema. Neves celebrates the nominations, but notes that the Oscars are a “party of the United States’ film industry.” In this context, Demi Moore is a strong contender for Best Actress for her role in ‘The Substance.’

“My feeling is that the world has been captivated by Fernanda’s magnetism, spontaneity, and humor, but the Oscars celebrate the American film industry. The truth is that Demi Moore has a compelling story for them — an actress who was once a box office sensation, and made incredible films, but was never taken seriously. Now, she has resurfaced with a powerful, strong, and controversial film. It feels like a heroine’s journey for Demi Moore, so she has that advantage,” he says.

Neves also analyzed Brazil’s chances in the Best Film categories. He believes ‘Emilia Pérez’ is ‘I’m Still Here’s’ main competitor, just as it was at the Golden Globes, where the French film won Best Non-English Language Film.

“The way ‘Emilia Pérez’ represents the trans population, the stereotypical portrayal of Mexico, even working with American actresses speaking Spanish that is being questioned, and having a French director—all this controversy could weaken its position. I think ‘I’m Still Here’ could benefit from this loss of strength. However, the film community is enamored with ‘Emilia Pérez’; it won awards at Cannes and the Golden Globes. We’ll have to see if it loses momentum amidst the controversy in this final stretch.”

The 2025 Oscars ceremony will be held on March 2 in Los Angeles, United States, and will be hosted by Conan O’Brien, a famous comedian and television presenter.

The Golden Globe

A new chapter in Brazilian cinema was written on January 5. Fernanda Torres won the Golden Globe for Best Actress in a Drama Film for her performance in “I’m Still Here,” bringing the unprecedented statuette to Brazil.

In Walter Salles’ film, Fernanda plays lawyer Eunice Paiva, the widow of former federal deputy Rubens Paiva, who was murdered by the military dictatorship in the 1970s.

This is the first time Brazil has won the award. Twenty-five years ago, Fernanda Montenegro, mother of Fernanda Torres, competed for the prize but did not win. She was nominated for her role in the 1998 film Central Station, also directed by Walter Salles.

The awards ceremony took place in Los Angeles, USA. In her speech, the Brazilian actress celebrated the award and dedicated it to her mother, Fernanda Montenegro.

“My God, I didn’t prepare anything because I didn’t know if I was ready. This has been an incredible year for the performances of actresses, so many actresses here that I admire so much. And, of course, I want to thank Walter Salles, my partner, and my friend. What a story, Walter!” she began, moved.

She added, “And, of course, I want to dedicate this award to my mother. You have no idea, she was here 25 years ago, and this is proof that art lasts in life, even during the difficult times that Eunice Paiva went through and with so many problems in the world today, so much fear. “This is a movie that has helped us think about how to survive in times like these. Thank you so much!” said Torres.

Fernanda was competing against big Hollywood stars such as Nicole Kidman, Angelina Jolie, Tilda Swinton, Pamela Anderson, and Kate Winslet.

“I’m Still Here” contended for the award in the Best Foreign Film category, but didn’t win the trophy. This year, the Golden Globe went to the French production “Emilia Perez.”

‘Pride of Brazil’

On social media, the victory was celebrated by celebrities, artists, and politicians. President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva said that Fernanda Torres is the “pride of Brazil.”

“Exciting! Fernanda Torres is the pride of Brazil. Best Actress in a Drama Film at the Golden Globes for her great performance in the film ‘I’m Still Here.’ As she says: ‘A vida presta’ [Life is worth it, in rough translation]. Congratulations!” the president posted on his X profile.

The movie

‘I’m Still Here’s story is based on actual events from Marcelo Rubens Paiva’s book, which details the horrors of Brazilian dictatorship

In her article “Torture and Social Symptom,” psychoanalyst Maria Rita Kehl says that the public elaboration of the crimes committed by the military in the dictatorship of ’64 would not only end the mourning of the victims and their families, who are seeking justice but could also begin to heal Brazil’s own historically violent institutions.

In a country like Brazil, the dictatorship of ’64 was no pioneer in its practices of repression and extermination. If in the years of lead it advanced into the peaceful middle-class homes of the big urban centers, in the past and present, black, Indigenous, and poor populations in rural and peripheral areas have had to live with the lack of democratic guarantees daily. For some bodies and territories, democracy has never fully arrived even today. And none of the few achievements are guaranteed.

In a counterintuitive reasoning, Maria Rita Kehl states that the Brazilian police are the only ones in Latin America who commit more murders and crimes of torture today than during the period of the dictatorship.

With one of the largest prison populations in the world, Brazil is one of the bloodiest and most unequal countries on the planet. If we thought about these issues with a genuinely ethical conscience, with the same daily despair as those who suffer this violence on their skin, perhaps we wouldn’t sleep at night. Maybe we would be a little more radical, urgently getting to the root of the problems.

I’m still here

In this sense, the expression ‘I’m Still Here’, the title of Walter Salles’ moving film, has a double meaning. The absence of deputy Rubens Paiva, kidnapped and tortured like 20,000 other Brazilians during the period of repression, and then murdered and disappeared like 434 other citizens, according to figures estimated by the National Truth Commission and international agencies, is still present. The repressive apparatus of the state is also present here in Brazil today: a country in which 71.7% of those killed by police in 2023 were children, adolescents, or young people.

The testimony of the Paiva family, which first came to light in 2015 in the book by journalist and writer Marcelo Rubens Paiva (Rubens’ son), is moving on many levels. The first shots of the film, interspersing shaky Super 8 montages, some of which are fictional, and images that appear to be original archive footage, set the tone of the family’s happy daily life. The beach volleyball match, the stray dog being taken in, the children running down the street alone, the girls tanning their skin with coca-coca. Parties, music, and lots of joy in a house on the sand.

The situation begins to change when an armed struggle group kidnaps the Swiss ambassador, demanding the release of political prisoners. This intensifies the repression. Paiva’s eldest daughter, Veruca, who was taking a leisurely stroll with friends in a car, is subjected to a police stop-and-search, with shoves, guns to the head, and insults. This is a daily practice of Brazilian police forces, depending on your social class, race, and geographical location. But in that period, it became widespread, and many militants against the dictatorship were young students.

While posing for a photo with her family, with the sea in the background, Eunice Paiva [who decided to investigate Rubens Paiva’s disappearance while taking care of the family] sees army trucks passing by and can’t contain her apprehension. Her family’s safety is at risk. She still doesn’t know that her husband distributes clandestine mail from exiles. Later, when she talks to a friend who tells her about her husband’s little resistance, she hears that nothing terrible would happen to someone like Rubens Paiva.

Communist threat

On an ordinary day, in a Kafkaesque nightmare, in the most natural way, agents from the Brazilian Army enter his house and take Rubens Paiva to “give a routine statement.” Some guards remain there, watching the family, monitoring phone calls, and playing football with the children. Just like in a kidnapping. Then Eunice herself and her daughter Eliana, then 15 years old, are taken away hooded and arrested. Her daughter was imprisoned for one night.

In a 2012 interview with the Brazilian newspaper O Globo, when she spoke about it for the first time, Eliana Paiva said that the executioners showed her a history lesson on Czechoslovakia. They accused her of being a communist.

Eunice Paiva was imprisoned for 13 days. The scenes inside the prison are claustrophobic and distressing. We catch a glimpse of someone being drowned. We hear women screaming. At this point, one of the guards who takes her from the cell to the interrogation room whispers information about her daughter and tells her to keep quiet so as not to irritate the torturers any further.

This accomplice-saboteur, who says he disagrees with “that” when Eunice is released, is an ambiguous figure between consent and resistance. There is no total control, not even in the most authoritarian regimes.

Reminiscences of suffering

The narrative rhythm of Walter Salles’ film goes very well up to the point where the family has to move from Rio de Janeiro to São Paulo, with taut scenes that are striking for their strength and subtlety. For example, at the bank, the manager and friend of her husband turn his back when she goes to cash the check for the property she sold in a hurry or when the teacher who had also been arrested leaves her testimony under the door in the middle of a storm.

Fernanda Torres’ impeccable performance gives a lot of density to Eunice Paiva’s fight for truth and justice. A mother, a wife, a woman torn apart by immeasurable suffering. When she explodes at the soldiers spying on her house after her dog Pimpão is run over, hitting the glass, we see the anger and pain in her eyes. A courage that leaves us moved and inspired.

In the second and third parts of Walter Salles’ film, the script loses the strength of the first narrative cycle. Perhaps a mini-series would have been the best option to develop Eunice’s struggle for recognition of her husband’s death and her activism for Indigenous rights, as well as her battle with Alzheimer’s, which only appears in glimpses, with the presence of actress Fernanda Montenegro.

At this point, how can we not remember the excellent Chilean documentary ‘La Memoria Infinita’ (Maite Alberdi, 2023), one of the most moving films of last year, which deals with a similar theme: memory of the dictatorship and loss of memory? Furthermore, the use of archive footage could be bolder.

In the scene where the death certificate is received, a detail is in the book but doesn’t appear in the movie. Former Brazilian President Fernando Henrique Cardoso was a personal and close friend of Rubens Paiva. When he was elected, he didn’t say anything when Amnesty International demanded a position on political disappearances.

Marcelo then asked a friend at the Brazilian magazine Veja for space to write. Using an article by Cardoso from the 1980s, the writer shows the contradictions of the once “more critical” sociologist. With the great repercussions, and with another friend of Rubens Paiva occupying the position of Minister of Justice, LAW No. 9.140, which recognized the death of the disappeared, was drafted and approved.

Even a rich and powerful family with many powerful relationships had their security and rights stolen from them under a regime of exception. It took twenty years to officially bury a former deputy. Given that many of the documents were destroyed, what happened to the anonymous and nameless of the past?

‘I’m Still Here’ is a sensitive film that fulfills its testimonial role of depicting the memory of the dictatorship from the perspective of the abrupt destruction of everyday family life.

*Marcos Vinícius Almeida is a writer, journalist and editor. He has a master’s degree in literature and Literary Criticism and has worked for Brazilian newspapers Folha de S. Paulo and O Globo.

Brazil de Fato