Disclaimer: This article contains spoilers for “I’m Still Here” (2024).
On Nov. 21, 2024, former Brazilian President Jair Bolsonaro was accused by the nation’s federal police of conspiring to launch a coup in 2022 after being defeated by current President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva. For certain Brazilians of advanced age and strong memory, it was déjà vu all over again.
One such individual is the Brazilian master filmmaker Walter Salles, whose latest project, “I’m Still Here,” harkens back to the age following Brazil’s 1964 coup that ultimately led to two decades of military dictatorship in the country. Like in his 2004 Che Guevara biopic, “The Motorcycle Diaries,” Salles once again focuses on a specific individual as personification of a larger movement. This time, his target — at least in the beginning — is Rubens Paiva, a former congressman who, by 1970, is working as a civil engineer in Rio de Janeiro.
It’s easy to love the Paiva family at first sight, but Salles still spends the picture’s first 15-odd minutes making sure of it. There is Rubens (Selton Mello), the easygoing patriarch who is jokingly described by his own daughter as a “playboy.” The daughter, Vera (Valentina Herszage), who drives around in a red Charger with her hippie friends, has a poster of Godard’s “La Chinoise” in her room and likes to shoot on a Super 8 camera — some of which is used in the film itself. And Vera’s younger sisters, Eliana (Luiza Kosovski) and Nalu (Bárbara Luz), who spend their time at the beach playing volleyball and getting harassed by their rambunctious younger brother Marcelo (Guilherme Silveira).
Last, but certainly not least, is Eunice Paiva, played by a career-best Fernanda Torres. While the mother of five is introduced as having some stern qualities, these largely take a backseat in favor of a more compassionate depiction.
But heaven on earth is never eternal. Soon, cracks begin to form — not just in the foundations of the family, but in Brazil itself. When a Swiss diplomat is kidnapped by guerilla forces, the Paiva household is shaken. When one family decides to flee to London, Rubens debates moving the entire family but ends up sending only Vera instead.
The real tension begins when a mysterious leather-jacketed man arrives. On an otherwise tranquil Saturday morning, a game of backgammon is interrupted by a group of sinister armed men with a message for the former congressman: He has been called in for a deposition. He promises Eunice that he’ll be back in the evening — spoiler alert, he won’t — and disappears into the streets of Rio.
It is here that the film’s true nature emerges. Soon after Rubens disappears, Eunice and Eliana are also whisked away for questioning. They are thrown into dark, barren cells and only taken out when it’s time to be threatened and interrogated about their supposed roles in aiding the anti-dictatorship forces. Though Eliana is released after 24 hours, Eunice is subjected to 12 days of torture.
These scenes are more terrifying than most Hollywood horror films today, not because they are overly violent and punishing, but quite the opposite. The film’s brilliance lies in its restraint. Whether it’s distant screams that are only faintly heard, or children peeking through doors and seeing what they shouldn’t, the most understated moments prove most impactful.
Consequently, the same is true for Torres’ performance. Her acting masterclass unfolds not through sobbing breakdowns or screams of terror, but through subtle breaths and profoundly expressive stares.
Towards the end of the film, Salles skips ahead to the ‘90s. Now, Eunice is a successful lawyer and still fighting for the victims of forced disappearance under the regime. Flash forward again to 2014, and Eunice is played by the brilliant Fernanda Montenegro, Torres’ real-life mother and the star of Salles’ “Central Station.” Though these scenes are not entirely ineffective — a moment in the 1996 sequence when Marcelo and Nalu discuss the moment they realized their father was gone is particularly touching — they lack the rest of the film’s measured devastation.
It’s a personal story for Salles, whose work has often simultaneously explored both the beauty and darkness in his homeland. Not only does the director know the Paiva family personally, the film is also based on the biography “Ainda estou aqui” written by Marcelo Paiva.
Consequently, it is precisely through this intense relationship that Salles is able to pack an emotional punch. “I’m Still Here” is nothing if not the work of a crew wholeheartedly committed to making sure an important period is not forgotten. It’s clear to see why its script was awarded the top prize in Venice and of course Torres’ Golden Globe needs no further justification. Though her mother was famously snubbed for her work in “Central Station,” it won’t be surprising if the Academy gives Torres and her family their deserved recognition in a month’s time.
After all, this picture might just be the year’s best.
