It’s a cruel, devastating story of a family torn apart by its patriarch’s forced disappearance. And somehow, it’s one of the most empathetic and inspiring films in recent memory.
“I’m Still Here,” nominated for three Academy Awards, including Best Picture, is a masterful piece that shines a light on victims of political persecution and the loved ones they leave behind. With Walter Salles’ daring direction and a showstopping performance by Fernanda Torres, “I’m Still Here” is a beautiful tribute to survivors of brutality and fighters for free speech.
Based on the memoir of the same name by Marcelo Rubens Paiva, “I’m Still Here” is the true story of Eunice Paiva (Torres), a Brazilian mother of five whose husband, ousted congressman and political dissenter Rubens Paiva (Selton Mello), is arrested in 1971 and subsequently goes missing during Brazil’s 11-year military dictatorship. Eunice dedicates her life to exposing the military’s cover-up of Rubens’ disappearance while fighting to keep her family together in his absence.
Brazil’s military dictatorship was a human rights atrocity and a dark stain in the fight for freedom of speech. For a film to portray this with such hope seems impossible, but Salles pulls it off by making the characters relatable and easy to empathize with. Sharing cues with the Holocaust film “Life is Beautiful,” Salles uses the first act to give the audience an optimistic slice of the characters’ lives before the unspeakable happens.
The Paiva family is not depicted as oppressed or paranoid; they are shown living happy lives and embracing the wonders of the city of Rio. Watching the family go on adventures with friends, play loud midnight foosball games with their father or dance to classic Brazilian songs with their mother forms an emotional attachment between the family and the viewer. When the family is eventually thrust into tragedy, the tone darkens drastically and deeply emphasizes feelings of empathy and sorrow.
But this is not just a story of loss; it’s also one of courage. At the heart of “I’m Still Here” lies a fundamental question: Are the Paivas victims, or are they survivors? Anyone going in with prior knowledge of the story may expect the family to be characterized as the former. But Salles, with screenwriters Murilo Hauser and Heitor Lorega, portray Eunice as resilient and tenacious. It becomes clear that Eunice’s coping mechanism is to keep her family united and pursue justice for her husband.
In her fight, Eunice refuses for the world to portray her and her children as victims. This is highlighted in an eye-opening scene, during a photo shoot for a profile on the Paiva family. To portray the family as broken in Rubens’ absence, the photographer insists that the family doesn’t smile for the cover picture. But in an act of resilience, Eunice smiles anyway, with the children following her lead; the photographer eventually relents.
The family photo — a recurring motif throughout the film — is a constant reminder that this family, both in the film and in real life, were survivors of oppression. And when the family laughs at those who want to depict them as victims, their smirks are not just toward the photographers but toward anyone who leaves “I’m Still Here” feeling pity for them. It’s a direct interaction with the audience from the filmmakers and the surviving family members who continue to tell Eunice’s story.
The key that makes “I’m Still Here” work to perfection is its acting. The entire cast, particularly the Paiva family, blends seamlessly together to create on-screen chemistry reminiscent of a documentary. The child actors, particularly Guilherme Silveira as only-son Marcelo, portray with haunting realism the loss of innocence suffered as their world is torn apart by barbaric evil. Mello shines in his limited role as Rubens, a loving father and countryman dedicated to pursuing justice, which makes his eventual absence notable and heartbreaking.
But the undeniable star of the show is Torres as Eunice. As Eunice is thrust through unspeakable circumstances and responds to them with anxiety, anguish and even positivity, Torres manages to portray every emotion realistically. It is ultimately her performance that allows “I’m Still Here” to pull off every tonal switch and send every message it intends.
In a world where political power is increasingly centralized and freedom of speech is a topic of fierce debate, “I’m Still Here” is an ode to the fighters against oppression. It manages to turn a tragic story into a hopeful one by humanizing its characters beyond their dire circumstances. And it reminds us that anyone with the will, whether a survivor or an advocate, has the power to stand up for a larger cause.
