It may be axiomatic, but it is still profound. Our sense of self is determined by the accumulation of memories. This is why science fiction has been obsessed with the idea of technology that could erase or alter memories, and by extension, memory holders. That’s why it’s so shocking to see a loved one lose their memory and become a different person in the process.
This also applies on a broader level. After all, a society is just a group of people sharing memories. Filmmakers around the world, especially in South American countries, seem to have become particularly sensitive to this fact these days. They propose that by tinkering with collective memory, we can reshape the character of groups of people. That’s why governments often try to erase the past. In recent years, acclaimed films such as Azor, Eternal Memory and Argentina, 1985 have explored the personal impact of mass disappearances during the military dictatorships of Chile and Argentina. I’m doing it. More broadly, it shows how attempts to deny or ignore these disappearances have a lasting impact on those who survived.
The beautiful and perky ‘I’m Still Here’ joins these with its own Brazilian story. Directed by Walter Salles, one of the country’s most famous filmmakers, I’m Still Here is based on the 2015 memoir by Marcelo Rubens Paiva. His father, Congressman Rubens Paiva, was among an estimated 20,000 people missing in action while in the army. dictatorship from 1964 to 1985.
Masterfully crafted and richly photographed, I’m Still Here begins in 1970 Rio de Janeiro. At the time, despite the military’s intrusions into daily life, the large and loving Paiva family lived a largely happy domestic life. Rubens (Selton Mello) has recently returned from six years of self-imposed exile, having been expelled from the government during the revolution. He and his wife Eunice (Fernanda Torres) have five children, four daughters and one son, ranging in age from elementary school to older teens. They live near the beach and have a happy and lively home, entertaining friends and dancing in the living room. Rubens continues to work in support of political expatriates, but he keeps his efforts hidden from his family.
One day, however, the couple’s daughter Vera (Valentina Hersage) is driving home from a movie with a friend when she is stopped by the authorities and searched. Shortly thereafter, news breaks of the kidnapping of the Swiss ambassador by left-wing activists, and a period of instability begins and rapidly escalates. When men show up at Paiva’s house and demand that Rubens accompany them to an unknown location for questioning, Eunice and the children realize something is going on. Rubens is not coming back. Eunice and her daughter Eliana (Louisa Kosofsky) are also taken in for questioning.
This is the moment when the movie focuses on Eunice, who is not only the heroine in the movie, but also the heroine in real life. This movie is her story. She is a woman whose life has been torn to shreds, and she is determined not to be afraid. She will not only build a life for her children under unfathomable oppressive odds, but will also devote herself to changing the world. Torres is stunned by her performance, which won a Golden Globe Award and is aiming for an Oscar nomination. Protecting our children means finding joy in the midst of fear and hope in the midst of pain. Torres doubles up on all those emotions in her performance, and her searching eye is mesmerizing.
But while that’s true, this isn’t just a movie about strong women. It also makes people question what authoritarian regimes do to keep people in order and what they believe by claiming unashamed lies. It also depicts the totalitarian tactics of Although no one broke into Paiva’s home with guns and handcuffs, it has been suggested that Rubens’ privileged status as a former elected official and public figure had something to do with it.
Rather, control is brought about through mind games and gaslighting, by denying the obvious truth right in front of the family. The government’s official claim that Rubens escaped confinement is demonstrably false (it took until 2014 for him to be charged in his death), leaving his family in limbo. It’s even more infuriating to watch because it actually happened and not just in the Paiva family.
“I’m Still Here” expands the storytelling over several decades, tracing the disappearance and its impact on the country. Even though some may want to move on to forget past atrocities committed by those who have lost power. When a reporter asks Eunice if she shouldn’t focus on more pressing issues than “righting the past,” she adamantly disagrees. Families should be compensated for their crimes, she argues, but more importantly, the country needs to “explain and bring to justice all crimes committed under dictatorships.” “If that doesn’t happen, they will continue to commit crimes with impunity.”
I’m Still Here was released in Brazil in November 2024. Despite far-right movements urging people to boycott the film, the film was a huge hit and became the highest-grossing Brazilian film in the country since the coronavirus pandemic. Some say the film had a huge impact in a country that, unlike Chile and Argentina, has never officially held its military accountable for its role in torturing and killing its citizens during the dictatorships. The film was released just as details of a coup plot to keep former military dictator Jair Bolsonaro in power after his defeat in the 2022 elections were revealed.
Therefore, the popularity of this film is no wonder. But “I’m Still Here” is not presented as a simple polemic about historical and political circumstances, and that is the secret to its worldwide appeal. The film is also a moving depiction of how politics disrupts and reshapes the domestic sphere, and how solidarity, community, and love are the only viable paths to living through tragedy. It is also a portrait. And he warns against trusting those who try to erase or rewrite the past. Throughout the story, Salles repeatedly shows families taking photographs and Super 8 film to preserve memories. The director said that he believes that movies are “tools that help us not forget” and that “movies reconstruct memories.” With “I’m Still Here,” he aims to make sure no one is forgotten.
i’m still here
Rated PG-13 for scenes from life under a dictatorship, including sounds of torture. In Portuguese, with subtitles. Running time: 2 hours 16 minutes. At the theater.
