There is a scene early on in Walter Salle’s I’m Still Here (Ainda Estou Aqui in Portuguese) that prepares you for what type of film you're about to see. The teenage Veroca (Valentina Herszage), the eldest child of the Paira family, rides in the car with her boyfriend and friends. The passengers pass around a joint as rock music blares from the radio and the wind breezes in through the windows. It’s Rio in 1970, the sun is shining, and it’s, momentarily, a picture of a blissful and ignorant adolescence. Then, within a matter of seconds, the mood of the film completely shifts. In a tunnel, a police blockade stops the car, and aggressive officers order the minors out and check their IDs. They handle both the boys and girls with hostile brutality, and while the encounter only lasts minutes, it shakes each of them to their core. This is the reality of the world in I’m Still Here; pure joy can be corrupted and squashed in the blink of an eye.
Based on the memoir of Marcelo Rubens Paiva, I’m Still Here chronicles the life of the Paira family, when the patriarch, Rubens Paiva (Selton Mello), was wrongly imprisoned by the dictatorial regime, leaving his wife, Eunice (Fernanda Torres), to pick up the pieces of the family unit. Similar to Alfonso Cuarón’s immaculate Roma, the film is a snapshot of a happy family who can’t make themselves impervious to the harshness of the world. But more than that, it’s an intimate, devastating, and beautiful celebration of the human spirit, and how family can be a saving grace when faced with unimaginable cruelty and tragedy. The film premiered at this year's Venice Film Festival where it took home the award for Best Screenplay and has been selected as the Brazillian entry for Best International Feature Film at next year's Oscars.
What Is ‘I’m Still Here’ About?
The Pairas are a wealthy and respected family living a stone’s throw away from the beach in a beautiful villa in 1970s Rio. Reuben and Eunice are happily married with five children; Veroca “Vera”, Eliana (Luiza Kosovski), Nalu (Barbara Luz), Marcelo (Guilherme Silveira), and Beatriz “Babiu” (Cora Mora). They have a doting housemaid, and it seems each member of the family wants nothing. However, as seen in the early scene with Veroca, the looming presence of Brazil’s dictatorial military regime is becoming more pronounced. Veroca is sent to live with her relatives in London, and we’re treated to intimate and tender moments within the family; gatherings, dinners, parties, and beach trips see the friends and family dance, laugh, and enjoy a full and happy existence. Salle is patient with the first act of the movie, taking care to establish just how loved and content the Pairas are. This is what makes the core event of the film so gut-wrenching. Reuben is taken away by officers for questioning, and several men refuse to leave the house, watching every member’s movements, and listening to their calls. Eunice and Eliana are taken in for questioning, and while the military remains evasive, it’s clear they suspect Reuben, a former congressman, to be an enemy of the state.
What follows is a tale of psychological torture for Eunice, who must raise four children and withstand days in prison herself with no answers as to her husband’s whereabouts. It then becomes a journey for justice, as Eunice fights to have their story told, and the injustice for Rueben’s treatment to be recognized and corrected. Based on the real-life story of Reuben Paira, I’m Still Here takes a political and human rights story and imbues it with the very human themes of family, grief, survival, and above all, hope in the face of debilitating tragedy.
‘I’m Still Here’ Is a Tender Celebration of Family
The comparison to Cuarón’s Roma feels apt despite I’m Still Here closely following the real-life story of a victim of Brazil’s corrupt political regime. The comparisons are mostly seen in the first act. If you went into this movie blind, you’d think Salle is making a movie about his own childhood experiences, that’s how intimate and close it feels. The house is decorated with such authenticity, from the packed bookshelves to the endless ashtrays to Rueben’s cluttered office. Houses, beaches, and bookshops feel both sprawling and contained, the presence of characters who feel so deeply for each other making us feel closely held even in larger spaces. The siblings argue one second then dote on each other the next, washing their new puppy and gossiping about boys and rock stars.
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At the heart of the movie, and the entire film, is Eunice. A housewife and mother, she never feels reduced to the caregiver role. That’s because she is the Tom Cruise-like hero of this story. Her life is completely upended overnight, and she has to overcome systematic corruption, grief, and endless trauma while plastering a fake smile on her youngest children. Every day is a waking nightmare, but the movie never feels completely desolate because there in the background, the young Marcelo and Babiu play with dolls, Nalu comes racing in from the beach looking for a volleyball, and Zeze prepares lunch for everyone. The scope of a destructive political system is there, but it’s not given the center stage. It informs what the movie is really about; a mother and her family doing what they can to survive unthinkable turmoil.
By the end of the film, it doesn’t feel like a cut-and-dry political drama. It’s a character-driven movie about how the two great healers of any type of pain are family and time. We may not get the ending we crave, but because we see the Paira families grow old, start new lives, and reunite for family dinners, it feels like everything is right with the world even when we’ve been shown so vividly that it’s not. At one of the lowest points of the film, Eunice takes her children to their favorite local restaurant, mirroring an earlier scene when the entire family is chatting, eating ice cream, and simply living a beautifully quiet life together. The juxtaposition of these two scenes is devastating, but Welles immediately offers us a glimmer of hope as Eunice looks around at all the other tables.
Couples, friends, young families, and elderly people are simply talking and eating. It’s a quietly massive scene that underscores the film’s ethos — nothing is insurmountable when you’re surrounded by loved ones. The screenplay from Murilo Hauser and Heitor Lorega takes Mercelo’s memoir and shifts the perspective to Eunice, a clever decision so that the realities of the Paira’s position never get lost. But they maintain the family-forward approach to the story, avoiding the urge to give characters Hollywood-esque monologues or dramatic one-liners. This is a real story, and the script transfers to the screen rather than dramatizes it. Pair this with the deep affection that pours out of every one of Salle’s shots, the Paira's story couldn’t have been told with more compassion and care.
Fernanda Torres Gives One of the Best Performances of the Year
Fernanda Torres gives one of the most magnificent performances of the year and is more than deserving of an Oscar nomination. When it feels like all hope is lost, it’s her determination and fierce protection of her family and their memory that keeps us going. Torres is asked to shift between quiet devastation and performative composure in the snap of a finger, and no moment gets lost in the shuffle because it all appears on her face, even if only for a second. She’s uplifted by a stellar cast, with every single performance feeling authentic. The chemistry between all of the Paira family members forms the beating heart of the film, devastating the audience by reminding them how happy they used to be, but promising them that nothing can shatter their sense of spirit, because they are together.
Few films will move you like I’m Still Here will. It's a near-perfect movie. What prevents it from being without faults is that Salle is so razor-focused on trying to maintain a positive spirit that the bigger implications of the family's suffering can feel too fleeting. It can feel like the family's grief is not fully investigated or unpacked because Salle is somewhat too scared to fully acknowledge it. Still, it is merely one complaint within a shower of compliments. Like Steve McQueen’s Blitz,it’s a microcosm of humanity and family during a time of tragedy and turmoil. But it goes way beyond the WWII film by presenting a family unit that feels like it could save the world. And in a sense, that’s exactly what happens.
I'm Still Here is a gut-wrenching, devastating, but celebratory account of a family doing what they can to survive amongst unthinkable tragedy.
- Fernanda Torres gives a groundbreaking performance, carrying the heavy weight of the story on her shoulders throughout.
- The direction and script pair perfectly together, crafting an intimate and tender family story within against huge historical context.
- The movie celebrates the very primal idea that family and love can heal all wounds.
- The more serious and urgent moments can get lost, and the movie fails to fully reckon with the family's grief.
I'm Still Here screened at this year's BFI London Film Festival.
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