I'm Still Here Is a Story of Heartbreaking Resilience in Brazil

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Between the 1964 coup right through to the mid-1970s, hundreds of Brazilian individuals were “disappeared” by the military dictatorship as part of a counter-revolutionary campaign. Among the missing were students and former politicians, rich and poor alike, swept up in the tides of brutality that beset the country with ramifications that continue to resonate to this very day. Along with those who never came home were the many family members that were also picked up and interrogated, undergoing tortuous hardships that would for years mark them with suspicion by the state and leave lasting psychological effects.

Walter Salles’ latest, and most accomplished film, I’m Still Here, allows international audiences into this world of quiet resilience and powerful response to the whims of a dictatorial regime. Following the true-life story of Eunice Paiva (Fernanda Torres) and her family over many decades, this is a powerful indictment of those that caused such harm, and a blistering celebration of one woman’s tenacious drive to seek justice and to preserve the truth for generations to come.

The film begins in sunlit beauty, with several of Eunice’s five children galivanting on the sandy shores of Rio de Janeiro’s Leblon beach. Crossing the traffic-filled street, the kids enter their welcoming home mere meters from the crashing waves, a warm and inviting place with shelves full of books, several tasty-looking treats ready for snacking, and a seemingly limitless pile of wonderfully curated records from the era.

Rubens (Selton Mello), Eunice’s husband, is a former congressperson who has returned back to the center of the city after exile in Europe some six years after the original coup. Returning to a life as technocrat, he’s seen planning on a new home for him and his brood and generally appearing smiling and affable. Underneath this warm exterior he continues to play a small role in subverting the will of the governing party, and despite the obvious need for caution he acts as a kind of courier, surreptitiously transmitting packages between differing individuals.

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In January of 1971 Rubens was arrested/abducted from his home by men claiming to be part of the army, taken away in his red car after changing into a shirt and tie and voluntarily driving himself for a cooperative conversation. While those that first entered his home stayed behind, Eunice remains steadfastly hospitable, offering them meals and politely asking for updates on her husband’s career. After a day of his absence both Eunice and her second oldest daughter are similarly shuffled off to have questions asked of them, and it’s here that the story truly exposes the nefarious actions of those involved, with mother and daughter hooded before being transported to a building where for weeks they are tortured and humiliated.

This early portion of the film is presented with an impeccable sense of place, and everything from the clothing to the set design and dressing is handled with extreme dexterity. Even at the most heightened moments of suffering or anxiety the storyline never becomes overwrought, Salles’ skillful navigation of this years-long story doled out in a precise yet never ponderous pace.

The raw emotions that Eunice and others experience is also expressed in beautifully attenuated fashion, and it’s the quiet power of the character as exceptionally embodied by Torres, free from histrionics, that makes it that much more effective. From the child actors right through to the taciturn menace of the abductors and interrogators, there’s a sense of documentary-like truthfulness throughout that transcends any usual cinematic excesses.

That’s not to say that the film is free from overt craft, of course. Salles’ camera wanders from beach to home with a freedom that’s often stunning, and everything from gritty street scenes to more subtle glimpses of Rio-area landmarks are dropped in with a keen and careful eye.

Music also plays a major role in the film to provide even more of this verisimilitudinous sense of time and place, particularly the first half, and the needle drops (drawn, apparently, from Salles’ own record collection) run the gamut of absolutely exceptional music from the era, a slew of Brazilian psych and rock records that makes this vinyl collector swoon as the covered are flipped through.

For the film’s first two thirds we’re situated within the time period of the coup, and this feels by far the most urgent and impactful parts of the narrative. Still, to end with a generic title card to say what occurred over the next quarter century would do injustice to Eunice’s story, and the film wisely grants more than enough space to see her myriad actions that helped reshape her country be appropriately commemorated.

Although tonally this concluding act feels a bit more heavy handed, it’s still a fine capper on what builds up from the initial scenes. While an entirely refreshed cast is called upon to take up the mantle with events some quarter century later, the sense of familial connection remains strong. Seen through these various lenses, Eunice’s story is given a more fulsome presentation.

Though at the outset her story was almost fully overshadowed by both her husband and her role as mother, the journey from a relatively inauspicious character through to her early examples of strength and resilience is frankly astonishing. We journey from her early moments of quiet and comfortable life, right through to her survival and fight for the truth to be told for both her and the many that have shared experiences of the covering up of the death of their loved ones, all while fully believing these are all aspects emanating from one particularly impactful character.

I’m Still Here does slightly lose its way toward the end, especially when things get slightly more maudlin than was the case during the more tonally astute earlier scenes. Despite this slight dip near the finale, overall it remains easily one of the grand films of the year, littered with exceptional performances anchored above all by Torres’ terrific turn, which has now seen her rewarded with an Academy Award nomination for Best Actress.

Although no additional exemplar was required to solidify Salles as one of the greatest directors to ever come out of his home country, it’s nonetheless worth lauding him yet again for the deeply humanist way in which his direction of Murilo Hauser and Heitor Lorega’s script helps bring the Paiva’s story to the world. In so doing, I’m Still Here itself helps continue Eunice’s tireless efforts for those in her county and abroad alike to never forget those lost during these most tumultuous of times in her beloved Brazil.

Director: Walter Salles
Writer: Murilo Hauser, Heitor Lorega
Stars: Fernanda Torres, Selton Mello, Fernanda Montenegro
Release date: Feb. 14, 2025 (expands wide)

Jason Gorber is a Toronto based film Critic and Journalist, Editor-in-Chief at That Shelf, the movie critic for CBC’s Metro Morning, and others. He is a member of the Toronto Film Critics Association and voter for the Critics Choice Awards Association. He also knows for a fact that CASINO is Scorsese’s masterpiece, and has a cat named Zissou.

I’m Still Here Is a Story of Heartbreaking Resilience in Brazil