“New year, new me” – an overtly optimistic phrase everyone has heard at least once. It is rooted in the concept of reinvention, specifically the control an individual has to change their life for the better. Whether it be exercising more, meeting new people, or starting that diet you’ve been putting off for a while, the possibilities are boundless. Yet what happens when you are in the exact opposite of this situation? Being forced to redefine who you are when you finally feel like the most authentic version of yourself.
Walter Salles explores this in I’m Still Here (2024) – inspired by the real events of Eunice Paiva (Fernanda Torres), a devoted woman to her husband former congressman Rubens Paiva (Selton Mello) and her children, ensuring that her family felt as safe and happy as herself. This compassion was felt in the early stages of the film from Adrian Teijido‘s enamoring cinematography. Every shot felt like it was taken directly from a home movie, expressing the love and rawness of the Paiva family. This was deliberate as we see daughter Veroca (Valentina Herszage) creating these on her video camera and even when we see Eunice rummage through boxes of old photographs of her loved ones.
Torres and Mello perfectly enhance this warmth with the sincere portrayal of their characters’ marriage. Mello brings the playful, loving energy to Rubens with small moments such as grabbing Eunice’s hand and insisting they dance. Torres compliments Mello’s characterization through reserved practicality and concern about internal family happenings, making her husband aware of the safety concerns of their children. There are heartfelt moments like when we find them enjoying each other’s company playing backgammon amongst the organised chaos in their large household. Their dynamic creates an uplifting atmosphere that is soon to be mourned when tragedy tears the family apart.
Set in 1971 amid the Brazilian Military Dictatorship, Rubens’ prior government relations and aiding those opposing the dictatorship led to his disappearance instantly shattering the protective bubble built by Rubens and Eunice. Screenplay writers Murilo Hauser and Heitor Lorega pace the lead-up to this conflict in a way that gutturally impacts the audience, gripping you immediately into the events that subsequently transpire–the two-hour 15 minute runtime breezes by.
Eunice involuntarily must uproot her family following this heinous government-led crime which in turn meant uprooting the fundamental roles and beliefs she had for herself as a person. We watch Torres gradually deconstruct what it meant to be a woman of the 1970s in Brazil and what roles she has to adopt within her family. Eunice transforms into a woman who must be more authoritative, determined, and outspoken in gaining the answers she so desperately deserves. She has to become the financial caregiver which at the time was a family role typically associated with the male. This is an important story to continue telling as it reminds audiences of the gender dynamics that once prevailed in society and reflects an experience that women may relate to despite the differing circumstances leading to their independence.
Eunice quite easily could have accepted the path laid out for her and allowed no closure for her family but she refused to settle. She resisted, fighting tooth and nail to bring her husband back and ultimately repair the fractures his absence left. After giving it her all, she reluctantly moved away from Rio de Janeiro to provide a piece of resolution to her children but fundamentally never gave up her fight for justice for her husband, even into her elderly years.
This becomes very emblematic of the title of the film itself. In her mind, she is still there – living out the promise from her husband that it would soon be just the two of them together in their newly built house in Rio de Janeiro, growing old together playing backgammon and reminiscing their life through old photographs. She is mourning the life that could have been and will carry that weight with her until the day that she dies.
With half of the Best Picture nominees at the 97th Academy Awards having strong female leads, I’m Still Here rightfully cements itself as being worthy to be in their midst because of Fernanda Torres. Her evocative and raw performance as Eunice carries the film to levels no-one else could have, meaning we do have a competitive Best Actress race on our hands.
At its core, I’m Still Here focuses on perseverance. The world has been and continues to be ruthless, oftentimes taking more than it gives. In our own lives, now more than ever, we should consider whether we should just compromise on change thrust upon us by authoritarians that we disagree with or embody Eunice and fight wholeheartedly against what we believe is wrong.
Review Courtesy of Nandita Joshi
Image Courtesy of Sony Pictures Classic