Direction: Walter Salles
Country: Brazil
Walter Salles’ I’m Still Here straddles the line between political thriller and family drama, recounting a real-life story set during Brazil’s military dictatorship in the early 1970s. Engineer and former congressman Rubens Paiva (Selton Mello) is arrested at his home by regime enforcers and subsequently vanishes without a trace. His wife, Eunice (Fernanda Torres), is detained and interrogated for several days before being released—only to face the devastating reality that she will never see her husband again. This gripping narrative, brought to life through exceptional filmmaking and deeply committed performances, is all the more chilling because it is true.
Salles chooses to tell the story from Eunice’s perspective, mirroring the book her son Marcelo wrote about her. The film is not only an exploration of the psychological torture inflicted by a ‘disappearance’ within a family but also an examination of the profound and irreversible changes it triggers in the lives of those left behind. It is difficult not to be moved by the shattering of a once-happy family. Yet, despite its emotional weight, the film could have been more effectively executed.
There is little suspense, even in moments that demand it, and while the story carries undeniable gravitas, it struggles with pacing. Some dragging sequences disrupt what should be a fluid narrative, and it becomes clear early on that I’m Still Here is unlikely to fully take off. The film leans into resilience and emotion but hesitates to push beyond that safe zone.
Torres, an actress of exquisite sensitivity who previously collaborated with Salles in Foreign Land (1995) and Midnight (1998), delivers a formidable performance as Eunice—a woman who transforms into a late-life lawyer and activist. She embodies Eunice’s moral integrity and quiet resistance, shielding her children while enduring immense pressure. Torres’ real-life mother, the legendary Fernanda Montenegro, portrays Eunice in her later years, reuniting with Salles after his acclaimed Central Station (1998).
The film reflects a dark page in Brazilian history, but because it’s too tidy and airtight, it fails to leave much of an impression by remaining in a passive state of subtlety.
