12/12 ForReel Score | 5/5 Score

Walter Salles spent seven years developing I’m Still Here, the feature film adaptation of Marcelo Rubens Paiva’s acclaimed memoir. But his personal roots to the project go all the way back to the 1960s. As a child growing up in Rio, he became acquainted with the Pavia family: in a director’s statement for its Venice Film Festival premiere, Salles remarked on how his experiences in the Paiva household ‘remains etched in my memory’. His latest project is particularly personal as he depicts the sudden, tragic upheaval to the lives of the Paiva family by the Brazilian military dictatorship. We observe the story of the desaparecidos, the many ‘disappeared’ peoples under the brutal Brazilian regime, through the disappearance in 1971 of former Labour Party congressman Rubens Paiva (Selton Mello), father to five adoring children and loving husband to Eunice (Fernanda Torres). Like the memoir, the film utilises Eunice as our focal point, taking us through an incredibly powerful tale of resilience.

Image courtesy of Sony Pictures Classics

We follow the ways in which the family matriarch has to reinvent herself, and hold her family together in the wake of Rubens’ disappearance. But before the tragedy unfolds, we are introduced to the daily life of the family, and each member with their distinct personalities. It is a joy to spend time with them having their meals, playing at the beach, dancing to music, and feeling sat ease in the comfort of one another. In particular, the bond between Eunice and Rubens is a highlight, where Torres and Mello have such fantastic chemistry with one another. Every interaction between them has such familiarity, and the connection they share is the beating heart of the film. When Rubens calls Eunice his ‘Mediterranean…the most beautiful woman in the world’, you truly believe it. Amplifying the idyllic quality of these scenes is Super 8 footage, interspersed as a series of family home videos. There’s a bittersweet power to these as remembrances of better times, when Ruben is taken away from his family by the militia for interrogation, under the guise of a routine ‘deposition’.

The abrupt departure of Rubens, the unsettling presence of the militia hovering in the shadows of their household, and the confusion of the children, most of whom did not get a chance to bid him a proper farewell, all weigh down on Eunice heavily. She struggles to maintain a calm front for the sake of her family, and navigate the situation as calmly as she can, but things only become increasingly dire as Eunice and her daughter Eliana are also taken to be interrogated at the army base. These sequences are handled with a brutal intensity as the blindfolded Eunice and Eliana are led through narrow corridors with the horrifying sounds and occasional glimpses of prisoners being tortured by militia in the background. Adrien Teijido’s cinematography contrasting the warmth of the beaches and Paiva family home with the cold unsparing spaces they find themselves in. Though we are following the Paiva family and Eunice’s imprisonment, Salles makes it clear that this is also the story of multitudes, of many lives broken apart and many individuals heinously treated by the dictatorship.

There are more than a few shades reminiscent of the work of Costa-Gavras in how the film intertwines political and family drama. In particular, it bears a strong resemblance to Missing where the protagonists of both films grapple with the new reality of a loved one’s disappearance under a dictatorship, taking charge of the situation to reinvent themselves, and search for the truth. The screenplay by Murilo Hauser and Heitor Lorega tells the tragedy of the desaparecido through the families they left behind. There’s the scene in which middle child Nalu and Eunice comfort one another in the bathroom after Eunice washes herself for the first time after her gruelling interrogation, which is devastating, as are the scenes of affectionate letters from the eldest daughter Verda in London, underlined with anxiety about the family’s situation, and Eliana’s sudden disillusionment from her experiences at the army base, losing enthusiasm for extracurricular volleyball and becoming singularly devoted to finding the truth about what happened to her father. Hauser and Lorega balance all of these character moments eloquently, aided by the editing of Affonso Gonçalves who keeps the film moving at a pace that never feels rushed, giving enough time to every step of the collapse and quiet, heartrending repair of the Paiva family unit.

Anchoring it all is the extraordinary tour de force leading turn by Torres, where motherhood in adversity delivered with restraint and quietude that makes it all the more emotionally devastating. Torres pulls us into every emotionally complex experience Eunice goes through, as she undergoes her own personal investigation to find the truth beneath the government’s lies, while at the same time acting as a firm but comforting emotional bedrock to her children. She brings forth the strength of Eunice with such honest power, like in the scene where she steadfastly insists against a journalist telling them to look sombre for a photoshoot. ‘Smile,’ she firmly says. ‘We’re going to smile.’ There is a wonderful catharsis to Torres’ work here, but she also never shies away from the cracks in Eunice’s composure, as the burdens weigh heavily on her, often communicating them silently. Her eyes alone can speak such volumes, as she sits in an ice cream parlour where she used to frequent with Rubens and the children, reflecting on a loss that can never truly be restored. By so vividly showing the vulnerabilities of Eunice, she makes her resilience all the more inspiring.

Salles and Torres carry us on through this journey decades onwards, as we observe the continual reinvention Eunice underwent in her pursuit for justice not just for Rubens, but for the Brazilian people under the regime as a whole. All brought full circle by a pivotal assist by Torres’ mother and another legendary Brazilian actress, Fernanda Montenegro. A masterstroke that sums up the power of this film as a collective memory of a family and their love, as well as a haunting reminder of the dangers of authoritarianism that remain present to this day and a powerful portrait and remembrance of the woman who persevered through it all.

Movie Review: "I'm Still Here" Leverages Compelling Performances To Deliver A Powerful and Devastating Political Drama