I’m Still Here – A Powerful Cautionary Tale

On March 31st, 1964, the Brazilian military successfully executed a coup d’etat and implemented a dictatorship. They dissolved the elected congress and chased political enemies that were considered communists. It lasted 21 years until the country had its democracy restored in 1989 through a direct election. One of the political enemies chased was Rubens Paiva, a former Brazilian Labor Party congressman who lost his seat in the coup. He went into exile and returned to the country to work as an engineer. Set in 1971, I’m Still Here (or Ainda Estou Aqui) sees Rubens (Mello), his wife Eunice (Torres/Montenegro), and one of his daughters, Eliana (Luiza Kozovski), taken to hearings within the military headquarters on a fateful January day. While Eliana went home a day later and Eunice spent a few days in prison, Rubens never returned. 

Based on the book of the same name by Marcelo Rubens Paiva, the only son of Rubens, the film sees legendary Brazilian director Walter Salles following 2012’s On The Road. Adapting the two central thirds of the source material, Salles and screenwriters Murilo Hauser and Heitor Lorega focus on the reactions of the shifts in the Paiva family dynamic. They establish Eunice’s actions after Rubens disappears as the film’s emotional core as she is left responsible for caring for their five children. 

Torres and Salles’ direction help form Eunuice into a silent warrior fighting against the current dictatorship. She was not only a victim of the coup but someone who lost a fundamental part of her life when the military first stormed into her home. Torres’ eyes speak volumes, communicating the extent of Eunice’s despair through her facial expressions alone. Her cries are silent, almost like a lowered moan that no one is supposed to listen to. Eunice is a vital character and the main driving force of the film’s dramatic elements. Her chase for Rubens gives her purpose and hope. One of film’s most remarkable scenes features a happy family portrait published in an article about her husband’s disappearance. However, as she learns about about his death, those feelings quickly devolve into despair and reconstruction. Ultimately, she simply wants to find her peace and raise her children decently.

In terms of the visuals, the production design by Carlos Conti provides creates another significant character in the story: the Paiva family home. It is a large house in front of the beach containing a multitude of books and vinyl records – a welcoming house to neighbors and friends. As the tone evolves over the course of the film, the house becomes darker and emptier as it becomes the materialization of the void created by Rubens’ absence. Meanwhile, the cinematography, shot in 35mm by Adrian Teijido, imprints a 1970s look that will take audiences back to that era, and the lack of light in some of the frames accentuated the agony of the Eunice’s jail stay. The bright and colorful Pavia house turns dark and bleak as soon as the military approaches Rubens. All in all, its visual components work together to compose a greater sense of his absence. 

In recent years, some Brazilians have protested for the military to lead the country once again. I’m Still Here is a reminder of all the damage left by the country’s dictatorship rule. It destroyed thousands of families, citizens had to self-exile in order to not get killed, and an enormous number of bodies are still missing. The film highlights why we must remember the attrocities of the past so to not let them happen again. In the end, if there is one thing to take away from this film, it is Fernanda Torres’ brilliant performance, one that speaks volumes. 

still courtesy of Sony Pictures Classics

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Pedro Lima

Brazilian film writer. He is also a producer and executive producer for Zariah Filmes. Member of the International Film Society Critics Association (IFSCA), International Documentary Association (IDA), and Gotham and Media Film Institute.