On the beach, Rubens and Eunice Paiva stand with two of their five children for the film “I’m Still Here” (“Ainda Estou Aqui” in Portuguese). The film tells a story about loss and a mother fighting to keep her family together. (Image courtesy of Sony).

Editor’s Note: “I’m Still Here” is a PG-13 rated film which may not be suitable for viewers of all ages. Common Sense Media approximates it is appropriate for viewers age 14 and up. The film and this review contain references to and depictions of violence, language, drugs, smoking and brief nudity. 

From a young age, we are all taught about “difficult history.” The pieces of time that are difficult to talk about but necessary to teach because, alas, history is destined to repeat itself. Throughout my childhood, I have watched countless documentaries and biopics that delve into hard topics. However, I have not yet seen a movie that tells a story about the past in quite the way that “I’m Still Here” has.

Based on a true story and the 2015 memoir by Marcelo Rubens Paiva, Brazilian feature film “I’m Still Here” directed by Walter Salles follows the Paiva family’s experience during Brazil’s grueling military dictatorship. “I’m Still Here” (“Ainda Estou Aqui” in Portuguese) artfully captures the nostalgia of childhood and tells the story of a family torn apart by politics. 

From 1964 to 1985, Brazil was under military rule. After World War II, those who supported right-wing actions regarding Brazil’s political alignment lost significant electoral influence. This led to calls for military intervention to remove what right-wing parties viewed as communism from the political system. A 1964 military coup ended public rule and began 21 years under military dictatorship. During this time, an estimated 20,000 people were tortured, and hundreds killed or missing, including Rubens Paiva. 

Set in the colorful 1970’s Rio de Janeiro, the film introduces former politician Rubens Paiva (Selton Mello) as he returns from his six-year self-exile following the revocation of his congressional position. He and his wife Eunice Paiva (Fernanda Torres) live a calm life near Leblon Beach, surrounded by community and love, and have four daughters and one son.

These domestic scenes bring the audience into the movie: We run down the street with a group of kids, dance along to the music and watch animated conversations at the lunch table. Throughout this time, the military dictatorship looms over the family in passing cars and overhead helicopters.

One day, the family’s eldest daughter, Vera (Valentina Herszage), and her friends are stopped by a military roadblock on the way home. Later that night, a news broadcast reveals that the Swiss ambassador has been kidnapped by the National Liberation Alliance, a far-left revolutionary group. These events kick off a period of uncertainty in the Paiva household, which comes to a head when mysterious men arrive to take Rubens for questioning. They supply the family with little information, except the promise they will return, leaving everyone worried. When Eunice and her daughter Eliana (Luiza Kosovski) are also taken for interrogation, it becomes clear that something is undoubtedly wrong.

As the scene progresses, the calm domestic peace of the house turns to anxiety and the natural light and sounds begin to disappear from the background through closed curtains. The camera becomes handheld, conveying Eunice and Rubens’ stress. Small details like these bring the film to life and connect the audience with the characters and their emotions.

From this moment onward, the film focuses on Eunice. She is determined to continue loving and nurturing her children while life as she knows it crumbles around her. As Eunice, Torres is poised and wise — she knows the secret to a perfect soufflé, smiles knowingly at her friends and doesn’t let her emotions get in the way of her role as a mother. I found myself in awe of her stoic mask. When she is imprisoned, scared and alone, she sits in the questioning room looking at people’s pictures as calmly as somebody deciding on cereal at the grocery store.

Torres’ performance, which was nominated at the 97th Academy Awards and Golden Globe, drives the story forward. Her eyes tell us the story her words cannot, revealing the worry and sadness behind a mask of normalcy. 

My favorite part about the film was the cinematography. The nature of the camera movements, often handheld, compellingly communicated the emotions across different scenes. One of my favorites was the party scene, where the camera dances around the room with the family and sings along to French songs with daughter Nalu (Bárbara Luz). I felt a deep sense of nostalgia — it made me feel like a little kid again, carelessly dancing with my friends.

For years, the Brazilian government withheld information about those missing from the public. “I’m Still Here” challenges the government’s attempt to suppress the truth — the control and mind games they played with hundreds of families in their effort to maintain power. The infuriating lies that we knew were false were the same ones Eunice witnessed with her own eyes. She heard about her husband’s fate years before the government finally acknowledged it.

Many people prefer to forget, to move on and brush past the crimes committed. “I’m Still Here” dares us to remember and to mend the past — we cannot move forward without doing so.