The deceptive comfort of ‘I’m Still Here’

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The beginning of I’m still here is a careful trap. In the first 20 minutes of his new film, director Walter Salles introduces the Paiva family, a lively Brazilian clan based in Rio de Janeiro. It is 1970 and we see the seven family members – Eunice (played by Fernanda Torres), Rubens (Selton Mello) and their five children – eating, talking, going to the beach and going to dances. Their bond feels palpably warm and realistic, a comforting pause that Salles tempts the audience into. Despite knowing that the story is based on terrifying real life events, I began to hope against hope that maybe nothing would happen to the plot – that instead I would just get to spend a few hours with this lovely buzzing device.

But the vaguest sense of political instability hums in the background of Paivas’ sandy idyll. In 1964, a military coup overthrew Brazil’s populist democracy, where Rubens had served as a leftist congressman. Almost seven years later, the country is still under martial law. One day, when Eunice and Rubens are playing backgammon and sorting through old photos, the police knock on the door; they take Rubens in for questioning. “I’ll be back for the soufflé,” he tells his wife calmly. In retrospect, it’s the most devastating line in the film: He never wants to see her or their children again.

What happened to Rubens Paiva is well known in Brazil. Rubens was one of many citizens disappeared by the country’s military dictatorship during the 21-year regime – suspected communists whom the military threw away, never to return. The government admitted that Rubens had died at its hands only decades later, and his body has still not been found. His case became particularly infamous because of Eunice’s years-long efforts to bring it to attention: she became a well-known human rights lawyer campaigning for victims of political oppression. But what happened to Rubens is still one matter of controversy in a country where right-wing politicians, until recentlyheld power.

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Salles could have taken a blunt, agitprop approach to rendering these events, devoting the film’s screen time primarily to Eunice’s struggle for recognition. But the director avoids framing I’m still here as an “inspiring true story” focusing on Eunice’s legal career; lots of good articles and books have been written about it. Instead, he limits this information to a few title cards that roll before the end credits. Salles’ take on Paivas’ saga is more subtle and, in my opinion, more successful than this mode of biography. He creates a quieter kind of historical drama that lives in the wake of Rubens’ disappearance, a situation that sometimes feels eerily ordinary. By highlighting Eunice’s role as a parent, Salles pushes viewers to consider the mundanity of living under a dictatorship—and the gnawing nightmare of lacking control in the face of overt evil. The years go by for Eunice and the children, but their daily arguments or meal preparation are defined by an absence.

That unsettling feeling is conveyed by Torres’ devastating, genuine performance. She won a surprising but well-deserved Golden Globe earlier this month – a shocker not only because I’m still here is relatively small, but also because Torres’ work is light on the histrionics that often attract prize votes. After their first visit, gunmen then take Eunice and her second-oldest daughter to a mysterious location, where they are interrogated about both Rubens’ and their own communist ties. Eunice remains imprisoned for nearly two weeks before being released without much explanation; she returns home and immediately tries her best to project a sense of normalcy. All the while, Eunice searches for answers to her husband’s whereabouts. The children are old enough to be aware of their family’s trials, but their shared anxiety does not affect the restrained atmosphere. Much of what happens from then on feels sweetly, almost languidly relatable.

I’m still heres thoughtful perspective has resonated in Brazil, where it has become the highest-grossing domestic film since the coronavirus pandemic. Tribute to Salle’s studious, low-key filmmaking dates back to his international breakthrough in the 1998s Main station; its star (and Torres’ mother) Fernanda Montenegro received an Academy Award nomination for Best Actress. Salles has continued to favor a muted approach throughout his career – even when making a Hollywood horror film such as the largely forgotten (and somewhat underrated) Dark water.

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Perhaps adding to the local hype too I’m still here is that it marks the end of Salles’ directorial hiatus. His last effort, a stunning adaptation of Jack Kerouac On the Roadpremiered back in 2012. I’m still here is a very worthy comeback, and certainly his strongest work since the 2004s The Motorcycle Diaries, a depiction of Che Guevara’s early years touring Latin America. That film, like this one, wore its political message on its sleeve without overdoing it. Salles has not always struck this delicate balance (again, his rather limp On the Road), but in this case it pays off handsomely.

I’m still here‘s most impressive magic trick, however, is a piece of meta-casting near its conclusion. The timeline jumps forward to the year 2014 and introduces the 95-year-old Montenegro as the older version of Eunice. What happens during these The closing moments are as tempered and straightforward as everything that precedes them: the action boils down to a few emotions vaguely flickering across Eunice’s face – but that’s all Salles needs to deliver a final emotional hammer blow.