'I'm Still Here' Review: A family's hard-fought resistance to order and progress
A dark horse Best Picture nominee on the forced disappearance of a dissident politician in 1970s Brazil and their family's search for closure, with a year-best performance from Fernanda Torres
There’s always one movie that alludes me during awards season. Research and hyper-fixation only gets you so far going into Oscar season each year post-nominations, but Walter Salles’ I’m Still Here (2024) was the film that slipped away from me. The film caught my interest back in October when it played at the 60th Chicago International Film Festival. As a fan of Salles’ 1998 cult classic Central Station, I wasn’t able to fit it into my schedule. Instead, I decided to see Robert Zemeckis’ Here (2024) because I’m an adamant fan of making terrible life choices. I’m Still Here went on to be a consistent favorite of the festival circuit last year and I got to see Zemeckis make one of the worst films of 2024.
However, even knowing how much love I’m Still Here received from the festival circuit, I didn’t realize the film would have enough legs to land the tenth Best Picture slot at the Oscars this year given the limited exposure the film had to the general public. Regardless, I’m Still Here is a faithful representation of both former Brazilian politician Rubens Paiva (Selton Mello) and the ongoing struggle of his family left in limbo after his forced disappearance by means of a military raid. What, at one point, seems like an idyllic life becomes a spiral into disarray and paranoia, all held together by the matriarchal strength of Eunice Paiva (Fernanda Torres) as she cares for their five children, uncertain and scared for their future.
The serene backdrop of Rio de Janeiro, coupled with the Paiva family’s contented life, drives the film home through its first half hour. Their family dynamic of controlled chaos holds the unit together in spite of the lingering tension that looms overhead. On an ordinary trip to the beach, their family and close friends gather around for a photo. As the lens closes, Eunice notices a wave of military trucks establishing their presence on a nearby street as both she and the audience simultaneously realize that life will never be the same after that picture.
Soon after the kidnapping of the Swiss ambassador by far-left revolutionaries, the Paiva family is subjected to a military raid and Rubens is called in for questioning, along with Eunice and one of their daughters. Subjected to questioning and torture for nearly two weeks, Eunice is sent home to her family (their daughter is sent home one day later), while the Brazilian government keeps Rubens with no word on his return.
The impending tension that haunts the Paivas family during this tumultuous period of their lives is incredibly well-executed in the first hour of I’m Still Here. Immediate confusion and uncertainty settles in, coupled with grief over the potential loss of their husband and father. Salles understands the potent complexity of the situation at hand and utilizes the uncertainty to paint a tense, emotionally effective portrayal. However, I’m Still Here’s greatest accomplishment is Torres’ commanding lead performance. Without Torres at the core of the familial dilemma, the film could have easily fallen apart, but her unbridled fear aids in providing I’m Still Here with its empathetic root. Admittedly, the film gets bogged down in portraying the after-effects of Rubens’ disappearance with one too many epilogues, resulting in an unbalanced runtime in the back-half. Regardless though, I’m Still Here is a prime example of filmmaking’s power of restorative justice for both victims and historical perspective.
B
Feature image credit to Sony Picture Classics via Deadline
