OSCARS 2025: I'm Still Here (2024)

The past predicts the future, or so some say. In the sixties and seventies, in order to crush a rising tide of socialist politics, the United States covertly supported a number of military coups throughout South America. These regimes would rule into the next decade, leading to untold atrocities and the torture, imprisonment, and murder of thousands. It would seem that South American filmmakers, in the last decade, have become interested in looking back at this era. No doubt because of fascism coming back into vogue in Brazil, Europe, and the U.S. If things get as bad in the near future as I fear they might, I imagine life in that America might resemble life in Brazil in the sixties and seventies. Society will continue to function and many will get through it unscathed but an increasingly militarized police force targeting private citizens, amid the suppression of opposition and the administration's enemies, will be commonplace. “I'm Still Here” – the latest film from Walter Salles, of “The Motorcycle Diaries” and, uh, the English remake of “Dark Water” – explores this contradictorily tone, of living in a country that is seemingly free while being fraught with repression. The film has unexpectedly broken out of the foreign language film bubble, earning a surprise Oscar nomination in the Best Picture category. 

Rubens Paiva, a former Congressman who opposed the military dictatorship, returns to Rio de Janeiro with his family. That means his devoted wife Eunice and their five children, moving into a spacious home near the beach. Following the kidnapping of a Swiss diplomat by revolutionaries, the Brazilian government begins pursuing perceived enemies to the state more harshly. A group of men appear at the Paiva household and escort Rubens out. Little explanation is given and Rubens does not return. Eunice and the couple's teenage daughter is taken, held for several days in deplorable conditions and asked to identify other subversives. After being returned home, Eunice and her family remain under government surveillance. She hears through rumors that her husband is dead and struggles with whether she should tell the children. Eunice begins to realize she is going to have to start her life over again, without her husband. 

“I'm Still Here” goes out of its way to establish, in its early scenes, a sense of warmth and normality among the family. The patient first act is devoted to getting to know the Paivas. We see the kids playing, adopting a dog off the beach, and how Rubens and Eunice's passion for each other remain very much alive twenty five years into their marriage. There is a kindness to these moments, watching the father play foosball with his son or the siblings hanging out and bonding. When Vera, the oldest daughter, travels to Europe for school and sends back letters and recordings of her journeys. Getting to sit around with these characters and watch them enact their own history, Adrian Teijido's cinematography capturing it all with an intimate angle. The idea is truly to make you feel part of this household too. 

There's signs early on, however, that this domestic bliss is not going to last for very long. News reports on television warn of political unrest. Vera and her friends are harassed by cops at a mandatory checkpoint. Rubens goes about, in secret, helping his leftist allies. When Eunice spots a truck full of soldiers driving through the street, that is the true sign that “I'm Still Here” is about to take a sharp turn. This is a film concerned with the secrets we keep from our loved ones. Eunice only has a vague idea of what her husband gets up to. After the husband's abduction, she tries to protect her children from the news of their father's death. This includes leaving out the part of a letter from Vera, asking about her concerns. Such attempts can only be held together for so long. One of the girls spies on Eunice after she's let out of imprisonment, washing her filthy and bruised body in the shower. It's a sign of how a parent does what they can to keep their loved one's safe but the truth inevitably comes out.

Femanda Torres as Eunice does an expertly job of depicting this, a woman who is holding it together as best as she can. Torres' eyes convey such a deep sadness but also a sense of frustration, as it becomes increasingly clear that her life has irrevocably changed forever. We watch as Torres depicts Eunice's exterior stability starts to crack up. During an especially upsetting scene, she blows up at the government agents parked outside the house. Later, however, she quickly hides her tears from her kids. Even when at the mercy of military police in prison, Eunice remains sturdy enough not to break. However, Torres strikes an ideal balance in her performance, never seeming like an untouchable action heroine. Instead, she's a normal person who is doing the best she can in extremely difficult circumstances. These sequences are “I'm Still Here” at their most chilling, as the signs of what is truly going on in this building – far-off screams, blood splattered on the floor – slowly become apparent. 

“I'm Still Here” is certainly a compelling motion picture through most of its runtime, powered mostly by Torres' heartbreaking performance. The emotions remain understated throughout. As a story of attempting to hold it together during a personal crisis, that's the correct approach. However, it does lead to a slow pace and a deliberate lack of catharsis that is mildly frustrating. Interestingly though, “I'm Still Here” continues past the point where most films would end. Instead, there is a lengthy postscript depicting Eunice's life after leaving Rio. In these scenes, “I'm Still Here” becomes a far more touching depiction of how we learn to live with grief, how our memories can't be taken away even when everything else can. I'm not going to lie, the final scene had me a bit misty-eyed. The film manages to capture a lot of emotions through its quiet conclusion.

I probably should've mentioned before now that “I'm Still Here” is based on a true story. Rubens Paiva would become one of the most notorious examples of the Brazilian dictatorship “disappearing” someone. Eunice Paiva would become a human rights lawyer, fighting for the land rights of indigenous people, while their oldest son Marcelo became a notable author. “I'm Still Here” is adapted from one of his books. Knowing the true story behind the film is not necessary to enjoy it. Torres' performance and some clever cinematography – which uses different film formats in an interesting way – is more than enough to recommend the film. Those final thirty minutes, however, make it a deeper and more powerful statement. A mixture of a character study during a hard time in someone's life and a reflective observation on memory, “I'm Still Here” is a quietly touching motion picture. [8/10]