 Fernanda Torres in "I'm Still Here" In order to understand the generational impact of tragedies, and to prevent history from repeating itself, we must confront the past. We must give voice to the lost, the erased, the vulnerable, the forcibly disappeared. Art holds the power to reflect the times. Many of us go to the cinema not only for an escape into someplace new, but for a mirror-effect of what’s happening on the ground. Many of us approach the medium of film with a yearning to see ourselves and learn about each other’s experiences. Walter Salles’ “I’m Still Here,” his first Brazilian feature film in 16 years, is both a time capsule and a transient experience. It will have remarkable staying power in the retelling of a very personal story born from a dark past. Salles, known for 1998’s “Central Station” and 2004’s “The Motorcycle Diaries,” brings to the screen an urgent reminder of a country’s disturbing history. Thousands of families were torn apart by Brazil’s military dictatorship between 1964 and 1985. In 1971, engineer and former congressman Rubens Paiva was arrested and forcibly disappeared. His wife, Eunice Paiva, and their five children suddenly had the ground pulled from beneath them. From that moment onwards, Eunice made it a point to keep the family resilient, whether taking her children out to ice cream or asking them to smile in press photos (despite being told to act more serious and sad, given the circumstances). Eunice, who became an activist and human rights lawyer, led a decades-long fight for justice. Without her courage and strength, without her memories, we wouldn’t have her son’s 2015 memoir “Ainda Estou Aqui” (“I’m Still Here”), which he wrote in light of her Alzheimer’s diagnosis. Without the Paiva family, we wouldn’t have Salles’ film adaptation of the memoir. “I’m Still Here,” and an absolutely extraordinary performance by Fernanda Torres as Eunice, is a moving reminder not to allow the past to be forgotten. It’s not only about holding onto faded memories, but actively sharing them so that they can continue to live, as Salles’ film powerfully does. The film’s opening song, “É Preciso Dar Um Jeito, Meu Amigo” (We Must Find a Way, My Friend) by Erasmo Carlos, sets a fitting tone as it accompanies footage of an idyllic family life. Ipanema beach in early 1970’s Rio de Janeiro looks serene, but Brazil’s military police presence in the background is anything but. Convoys and helicopters interrupt simple everyday joys, such as the Paiva family’s beach outing. Eunice (Fernanda Torres) looks beyond the shore to the harsh realities that unfold in broad daylight. However, Eunice and her husband Rubens (Selton Mello) make life feel relatively normal for their children — Veroca (Valentina Herszage), Eliana (Luiza Kosovski), Nalu (Barbara Luz), Marcelo (Guilherme Silveira), and Maria Beatriz Facciolla (Cora Mora). They fill the family home with warmth and togetherness. Eunice’s put-together demeanor is helped by Rubens, who assures her that the military tension will pass. Any conversations having to do with political unrest are held in hushed tones, behind closed doors, so as not to disrupt the children’s sense of safety. But it’s gotten too dangerous in Rio de Janeiro, and one day, that danger arrives at the family’s doorstep. A group of men arrest Rubens for his suspected associations with resistance groups, and Rubens disappears from the family picture, never to be seen or heard from again. Eunice, who faces further injustice when she is taken in for questioning and kept in a cell for several days, fights back. She spends years investigating for proof of Rubens’ arrest, detainment, and disappearance. Through unwavering resilience, speaking out to her friends in power, and taking matters into her own hands, she will not rest until the Brazilian government are held accountable for cruel acts of the regime. In conventional political thrillers, narrative focus often gets placed onto the investigation itself, drawing action from the threats behind enemy lines. In “I’m Still Here,” history is reconstructed through a familial and deeply personal lens. With Marcelo Rubens Paiva's book as an incredibly moving guideline, Salles’ film stresses how every day is a fight for Eunice to keep her family together. The smallest moments carry emotional resonance, especially when Eunice sees reminders of loss in her lively surroundings. One of the most quietly devastating scenes in the film is when she takes her children out to ice cream, shortly after their father is arrested. As she sits in her own familial disruption, she observes happy families around her, several reminders of uninterrupted love. The devastation rests on Eunice’s face, a composed and silent cry out, which Torres plays brilliantly. As the story unfolds, primarily through Eunice's perspective, the film rests on Torres’ shoulders to communicate the character’s internal conflict. Eunice puts on an incredibly disciplined front. While experiencing loss, she reinvents herself and rebuilds hope for her children’s futures. Torres commands the screen with tremendous control. She builds onto tension, anger, fear, and resilience with subtle observations. Her remarkable performance not only heightens the intensity of her character’s surroundings, but also reinforces how life goes on in the midst of such turmoil. Whether it’s convoys passing while she swims in the ocean, or an ominous car parked across the street of her home, these threats are gradual, and she pushes through them to continue living. Torres finds strength in fleeting moments, where Eunice recognizes her waves of sadness, and chooses to internalize each crashing impact. It is in such fleeting moments, such as Eunice taking her children out for ice cream (an exquisite scene), that serve as reminders of what was lost. By immersing the audience into the Paiva family's home from the beginning, Salles immerses you into lived-in dynamics. We observe joyous environments and safe spaces, open for family and friends at any time. When these spaces are disrupted, often without any hint or warning at all, the tension feels even more palpable. Salles makes a point to incorporate home video footage throughout the film, stressing not only personal connections to this story but also calms before the storm, pieces of history that have been washed away. Art can hold a mirror to the times we live in, and shed light on largely forgotten parts of history. “I’m Still Here” does both tremendously well. Salles creates a piece of film history that says, all those affected are still here. They live on through generations of families that come after them. For this particular reason, the film’s time jump to 2014 reverberates. 85-year-old Eunice (played by Fernanda Torres’ mother, Fernanda Montenegro) reflects as best she can on the past. Even though she lives with Alzheimer’s, Eunice still recognizes history, however fleeting the memory. “I’m Still Here” feels like an ode to Eunice, and to the thousands of people who faced the cruelties and injustices of Brazil’s dictatorship, who continued to live in the shadows of horror and must never be forgotten. “I’m Still Here” is now playing at TIFF Lightbox.
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 A still from Wallace & Gromit: Vengeance Most Fowl Aardman Animation never disappoints with the beloved claymation duo Wallace & Gromit. The pair’s latest adventure, Wallace & Gromit: Vengeance Most Fowl, boasts another great day of inventing, complete with modern thematic urgency and a film noir twist. That Vengeance Most Fowl slides perfectly into a fun double feature with 2023’s Mission: Impossible Dead Reckoning — Part One speaks to how widespread the dangers of artificial intelligence are, both in life and the art it inspires. Co-directors Nick Park and Merlin Crossingham find sweet spots in a genre-hopping story that remind audiences of Wallace and Gromit’s endearing charm. The cheese-loving inventor and his gently devoted dog are given a fresh spin in a masterful balance of tension and British humor. The astounding puppetry, lovable characters, and villainous return of a fan favorite make Vengeance Most Fowl a most comforting ode to imagination. Gnomes have always been interwoven into the fabric of Wallace and Gromit’s world, whether as lawn ornaments or extensions of Gromit’s love for gardening. Four-time Oscar winning filmmaker Nick Park, the co-director and co-writer of 2005’s Wallace & Gromit: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit, returns with a clever gnome-centric tale that plops Wallace and Gromit on a much grander scale. Though, the advancements in technology since Wallace and Gromit’s first feature are met with the upmost caution. Anne King’s puppet design and Matt Perry’s production design help retain the crafty, thumbprint charm of what makes the characters so distinctive. Whether it’s the flawed ambition of Wallace, or the quiet heroism and gentle impatience of Gromit, their classic personalities shine in an exploration of modern themes. The use of gnomes is a neat vehicle for the dangers of artificial intelligence and over-reliance on technology. In Vengeance Most Fowl, Wallace (Ben Whitehead) introduces his latest cheery invention: Norbot (Reece Shearsmith). This nifty voice-activated “smart” gnome is pre-programmed to do all the gardening and various “tedious” maintenance jobs. Norbot’s completion of tasks in neat and tidy fashion attracts Wallace and Gromit’s neighbors, prompting the cheesed inventor to create “Gnome Improvements” from his West Wallaby Street home. But when the robot’s fixed smile is hacked by a masterminding force, Gromit must swoop in to save the day as an army of Norbots wreak havoc. The core failing of Wallace’s new invention is that he considers Norbot progressive; the “smart” gnome is the inventor’s proof of how embracing technology makes life easier, because it allows him to sit back and let machines do all the work. This mentality extends even to the tiniest of actions in Wallace and Gromit’s household. Much to Gromit’s chagrin, the old teapot hasn’t been used in ages. Wallace even has an invention for giving Gromit a good ole pat on the head. But technology could never match a cozy hot cup of tea from a whistling kettle, or the warmth of a loving embrace. We live in an age where technological innovations have gone too far, and as Mark Burton’s screenplay so deftly captures, such advancements can be catastrophic when fallen in the wrong hands. With fun echoes of Tom Cruise’s Ethan Hunt confronting an enemy of artificial intelligence in Dead Reckoning, Vengeance Most Fowl shines in its savvy script, which makes way for some smashing action sequences. The hacked gnome plot also provides a terrific opportunity for Aardman to bring back the mysterious Feathers McGraw, famously a silent menace of previous Wallace and Gromit adventures. With his red rubber glove hat and beady little eyes, his character serves as the motivation behind Norbot going rogue. Feathers McGraw proves to be one of the most effective cinematic villains, animated or not. You constantly anticipate his next conniving move, each one adding irresistible layers to the character’s capabilities and under-the-surface personality. Feathers’s scenes bring elements of Hitchcockain suspense, film noir, and the prison heist sub-genre to Vengeance Most Fowl. His vengeance is clear as crystal and not to be underestimated, which adds real stakes to the story. It’s incredible how the simplicity of Feathers’s subtle animation style speaks volumes. The tiniest of details expose his intentions. As is the case with every Aardman Animation production, the beauty is in the details. Beady eyes catching the light in a particular way can make a character appear evil inside. Silent shrugs and raised eyebrows can convey a world of frustration. Billboards and books are the perfect backdrops for cheeky local gags and cheesy literary puns. Most impressive about the visual language of Vengeance Most Fowl is that, while it looks slightly more elevated than previous Wallace & Gromit works, the animation never appears glossy. The action sequences and intricate villainous lairs call for bigger scopes, but the intimacy of the characters never get lost. The film still has that textured, rough-around-the-edges charm, which puts the animation team’s work on full display and keeps the makeup of this endearing world intact. The film’s spectacular voice-work and music also play an integral part in retaining Wallace & Gromit’s DNA. Following the legendary original voice of Wallace, Peter Sallis, who passed away in 2017, Ben Whitehead proves worthy of maintaining the musicality in Wallace's voice. His performance is both an incredible mimic and a moving ode to the character fans fell in love with. Additional cast standouts include returning talent Peter Kay as Chief Inspector Mackintosh (who first appeared as a police constable in The Curse of the Were-Rabbit), and new talent Lauren Patel as P.C Mukherjee, an instinctive recruit determined to prove herself on her first day. Plus, the super cheerful Reece Shearsmith brings Norbot the “smart” gnome to life with lovable energy, successfully avoiding what could have been a monotone robotic voice. Adding more music to the ears is Lorne Balfe and Julian Nott’s original score. Before we get the classic Wallace & Gromit theme, we get a taste of the suspenseful notes that convey Feathers McGraw’s villainy. Balfe and Nott keep up this musical range throughout. They heighten the dramatic stakes, enhance the humor, and maintain the whimsical eccentricity of Wallace and Gromit’s world. In listening to the evolution of each track, it feels like being guided on a journey of several genres packed seamlessly into one film. With the many creatively told Wallace & Gromit stories out there, from The Curse of the Were-Rabbit to the delightful short films (the first being 1989’s A Grand Day Out), Vengeance Most Fowl might not top everyone’s list. Regardless, it’s an absolutely charming adventure, a memorable addition to this beloved world of a good-natured inventor and his intelligent dog. Catch Wallace & Gromit: Vengeance Most Fowl on Netflix on January 3, 2025. |
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