I’m Still Here
In “I’m Still Here,” Walter Salles puts forth a harrowing situation- what if, suddenly, a family member was taken by the government, and you never saw them again? This isn’t a new story, to be sure, but at a time when it appears the US government will be more than willing to do this to not just immigrants but political enemies, this film feels like a very fitting one at the start of Trump 2.0. But in telling the story of Eunice Paiva, whose husband- a politician who was a dissident of the military dictatorship in Brazil at the time- is taken, and then never seen again, Salles isn’t just asking us to consider one particular piece of history as a cautionary tale, but rather as an opportunity to show the importance of resistance, and never backing down in the face of authoritarianism. With so many recent swells in the popularity of authoritarian movements in recent years, few films are as politically important right now.
When faced with authoritarianism or fascism, resistance is best discussed in hushed tones, with a degree of secrecy surrounding things. Rubens Paiva (Selton Mello) exiled himself after the 1964 coup d’etat which led to the current political climate in which he returns, and he hopes- in continuing his civil career- he can be an inside man for change in the country. He is careful not to discuss his activities with his family, however, lest they ever be forced to speak as to his dealings. In January of 1971, the military raids his family’s home, arresting him in the process. We never see him again. His daughter, Eliana, is also taken, and Eunice (Fernanda Torres) also finds herself questioned for days on end, but Eliana and her are allowed to leave. She becomes an activist, and is constantly pressuring for information on her husband. Eventually, after a lifetime in 1996, she gets her answers.
The memoir by Eunice and Rubens’s son, Marcelo Rubens Paiva, provides the basis for the film, and the screenplay by Murilo Hauser and Heitor Lorega. There’s a degree of control in Salles’s approach that relies a lot on the performances to hold our attention. At the center of the film is Torres, who embodies her character with steely determination and soul that also extends to the film’s coda, where the character is played by Fernanda Montenegro. In 2014, Eunice has Alzheimer’s. The dictatorship that robbed her of her husband is long gone, and on TV, there is a report about the National Truth Commission, wherein they discuss Rubens’s disappearance and death, and even at her advanced state of cognitive decline, a memory is triggered, and a sadness of what was is brought up. It’s a powerful, haunting conclusion to a film that always has its main character proclaiming them being present, in the moment, always looking to put pressure on people to do the right thing, regardless of what heartache it may reveal. Until her death in 2018, she was there for us to remember her work, and see her as an example to emulate in tumultuous times.
