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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