I’M STILL HERE (2024) review
written by: Murilo Hauser and Heitor Lorega
produced by: Maria Carlota Bruno, Rodrigo Teixeira, and Martine de Clermont-Tonnerre
directed by: Walter Salles
rated: PG-13 (for thematic content, some strong language, drug use, smoking, and brief nudity)
runtime: 138 min.
U.S. release date: December 14, 2024
When we meet Eunice Paiva (Fernanda Torres) during the cold opening of Brazilian director Walter Salles’ latest film, “I’m Still Here,” she is swimming in the ocean. When the camera follows her coming up for air, we hear the sound of military transport helicopters flying over her head. Automatically, something seems off. What place and time is this film set in? It could be a dystopian future, but it’s actually in the past when Brazil was under a strict and often violent military dictatorship from 1964 to 1985. The audience is immediately hooked, drawn into an engrossing real-life tale, co-written by screenwriters Murillo Hauser and Heitor Lorega, that adapts the 2015 memoir Ainda Estou Aqui by Marcelo Rubens Paiva, Eunice’s son. “I’m Still Here” is free of Oscar moments and takes an unhurried approach that is often quietly devastating, albeit thoroughly immersive throughout its entire runtime.
Apart from the military sounds nearby, the Paiva family seems to live an idyllic life. It’s 1970, and Eunice and her husband, an architect and former federal congressman, Rubens (Selton Mello), live in a big house with their five children across the street from Leblon Beach in Rio De Janeiro. While they are probably more well-off than their neighbors, especially with a live-in housekeeper, Zezé (Pri Helena), they have made their home a warm and welcoming place, open to friends, family, and even a stray dog. Laughter fills the household, and the smell of Eunice’s signature soufflé (which never fails to rise) is always a favorite. Most of these moments are captured with a Super 8 camera as if to preserve something that won’t last.
The sight of military trucks filled with soldiers tearing down the nearby streets and the sound of whirring helicopters remain, leaving us to wonder if Eunice and Reubens (who has returned after a six-year self-exile due to the 1964 coup d’état) are in denial. Eunice is aware of Rubens’s mysterious phone calls, but she asks no questions. She hears the radical conversations he engages in with visitors, but keeps her opinions to herself. The younger children, Marcelo (Guilherme Silveira), Maria (Cora Mora), and Nalu (Barbara Luz), hardly notice any of this in their seemingly serene lives. Eliana (Luiza Kosovski), the second oldest, is just beginning to see her parents as people. The oldest, Vera (Valentina Herszage), has witnessed local political violence while returning home from the movies with her friends. Because of that, Rubens has decided to send her away to London with friends, Fernando (Charles Fricks) and Davla Gasparian (Maeve Jinkings).
Despite their best efforts, Eunice and Rubens cannot keep their family from the truth of the world outside their home. They can turn off the news coverage of the release of German and Swiss ambassadors from anti-government factional custody and refrain from discussing the number of people being arrested each day, but that doesn’t mean any of it is going away.
One day in January 1971, the world’s harsh reality came to their doorstep. Armed, plain-clothed men show up, announcing their connection to the government and stating they are there to bring Rubens to an undisclosed location to give a “deposition.” Not one of the Paiva family members realizes this will be the last time they will ever see their husband or father alive. Worst of all, they will never be able to see him dead to confirm their worst nightmare and offer some closure. “I’m Still Here” is ultimately about figuring out how to live without having a definitive answer.
The film’s title comes into play during the second part of the story, when Eunice has to keep hope alive in front of her children, despite gradually fearing the worst. She opts to tell her children that their father is “traveling”, knowing deep down she has the same valid questions they do. Eunice’s public inquiry of Ruben’s whereabouts results in her and Eliana getting arrested. Eliana is released in 24 hours, but Eunice is interrogated and tortured for 12 days. When she’s released, she learns of false reports that Rubens left the country again in exile, but she knows that’s not right. She enlists the help of a lawyer friend, Lino (Thelmo Fernandes), and the two file a habeas corpus petition. She learns from family friend Bocaiuva Cunha (Dan Stulbach) that Rubens had been helping political exiles. She confronts Martha (Carla Ribas), her children’s former grade school teacher, who reveals she was detained at the same time Rubens was, hoping to get some answers. “My husband’s in danger,” says an exasperated Eunice. “We’re all in danger,” responds Martha.
Feeling helpless, she writes an account that details her arrest, hoping that others reading her experience will expose the injustice suffered by others. Then she is told by family friend and journalist, Félix (Humberto Carrão), that Rubens was killed, despite military officials refusing to confirm this. Having no choice, Eunice sells their home and moves closer to her maternal family in São Paulo, deciding what’s best for her children and hoping for the best.
At this point in the film, Salles subtly reminds of the title by following Eunice Paiva within two time jumps. The first is a 25-year fast forward, where in 1996, Eunice is now a lawyer defending the land rights of South American indigenous people. She travels often, staying with her adult children in São Paulo, yet is still haunted by the unresolved circumstances regarding Rubens. There is some relief once the now democratic Brazilian state finally mails Eunice a copy of his death certificate. Still, it inspires her to advocate for other families who’ve experienced what she has by calling for reparations for past crimes committed by the military dictatorship.
Then the film shifts 18 years later, where we catch up with an 85-year-old Eunice (now played by Torres’ real-life mother, actor Fernanda Montenegro) who now uses a wheelchair in a fog of Alzheimer’s disease. When we catch up with her here, it is during a family reunion, where we see how generations of her family have thrived. In a scene that offers the character a moment of closure, we see Eunice become aware of a televised news report in which the National Truth Commission addresses Rubens’ case, finally offering public acknowledgment.
These segments take place during the third act, and Salles, along with screenwriters Murilo Hauser and Heitor Lorega, use this approach knowing we’re entirely invested in Eunice’s story. This not only keeps up with Eunice but also allows us to witness how her children have supported their mother, admiring her strength and determination.
While the performances in “I’m Still Here” are absorbing, especially Torres (in a wonderfully calibrated Oscar-nominated role), and the economic screenplay touches on all the right moments, the look of the film is outstanding. Shot entirely on location in Rio de Janeiro, cinematographer Adrian Teijido and production designer Carlos Conti fill the screen with teeming life in a tribute to the Paiva family and a celebration of Brazilian life. From the opening shot of Eunice swimming in the ocean to the closing image of her surrounded by her family, great care has gone into the captivating exterior and interior environments. The Paiva household is not just recreated for the era, but the bustling space, populated by colorful hues, is also brimming with culture, such as music, art, and books. Salles also deliberately provides a history for the family by recording 16mm home movies and taking personal photographs, which gives the film an essential personal feel.
Salles has created a loving look at the Paiva family with “I’m Still Here,” much of which likely has to do with the fact that he has known the family since he was a teenager. He is clearly invested and sees the importance of telling this family’s story. It helps us consider the thousands of other families forever impacted by the same brutal military dictatorship. Despite the disturbing subject matter being understandably depressing at times, the legacy of love and support felt here is the most memorable takeaway of the film.
RATING: ****
