In 1970, Brazil was in the midst of a military dictatorship that would continue for another 15 years. Director Walter Salles (Central Station) revisits that time to tell a story in which the unprincipled and murderous exercise of power upends the life of a family.
I'm Still Here, Salles's Oscar-nominated movie, offers a deeply moving account of damages wrought by a regime that brooked no opposition.
When the movie opens, life for the Paiva family seems to be unfolding normally. Mom (Fernanda Torres) floats in the waters at a Rio beach. Her kids play in the sand. Mom, Dad, and their five children seem to have escaped the worst effects of state-sponsored oppression. It's the Christmas season of 1970.
Despite some ominous forebodings, these early scenes brim with the warmth and energy of a well-educated family. As he should, Salles encourages us to hope that we're about to embark on an irresistible story about a household made lively by visitors and genial byplay.
That hope shatters when thugs arrest Dad, a former legislator who's suspected of aiding rebellious dissidents. Mom's arrest and interrogation follows. Released after 12 days, Mom begins the fraught task of keeping her family together. Dad never will be seen again.
On one level, I'm still Here can be seen as a tribute to the sacrifices and courage of Eunice Paiva, a mother who valiantly struggles against the dictatorial tide. A memorable blend of anxiety, fortitude, grit, and grief, Torres's performance qualifies as one of the year's best.
But Salles never loses sight of the cause of the distress we're seeing. Every scene strikes at us like an alarm bell about the dangers of unchecked power.
Viewers can debate whether Salles erred by including a late-picture scene set in 2014. In this segment, Eunice tries to obtain official acknowledgment that her husband was murdered.
In an epilogue, Fernanda Montenegro, Torres's real mother and the star of Salles's much-admired Central Station, plays the aging Eunice Paiva, a nice bit of casting that honors Salles's actresses, as well as the Paiva family.
Though softer than earlier scenes, Salles's end-of-picture moves can't relieve the sharp pain of a disturbing story, even as he celebrates one family's capacity for maintaining its humanity while never abandoning hope that Rubens Paiva's fate, and by extension the fates of many others, will be known.
Marcelo Paiva, the only son in a family of daughters, wrote the memoir on which the story is based, but it's arguable that the movie's commitment and conviction received a boost from Salles's personal knowledge of a family he often visited as a teenager.
With an international rise in oligarchy and authoritarianism, I'm Still Here can't help but serve as a cautionary tale about the fragility of what often are perceived as inviolable rights. That's a point worth remembering: When thugs are unleashed, nothing is guaranteed.
An Oscar postscript
I'm Still Here received what has been called a surprise Oscar nomination in the Best Picture category. Moreover, Torres received a nomination for best actress. Some analysts argue that this year's nominations have a decidedly liberal tilt, possibly in reaction to a global tilt toward authoritarianism. Maybe, but I'm Still Here would have been a worthy choice regardless of the current political environment. It's a fine movie.
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