I’m Still Here (2024) Review: Walter Salles Returns with a Masterpiece of Memory and Resilience
In the landscape of contemporary world cinema, few directors possess the ability to weave the personal with the political as seamlessly as Walter Salles. With his latest feature, I’m Still Here (Ainda Estou Aqui), Salles delivers what is arguably his most profound work since Central Station (1998) and The Motorcycle Diaries (2004). This 2024 political biographical drama is not merely a retelling of a dark chapter in Brazilian history; it is a heart-wrenching, beautifully textured exploration of a family’s refusal to be erased by the shadows of a military dictatorship.
Movie Overview and Technical Specifications
Before diving into the narrative depth of Salles’ latest triumph, it is essential to look at the technical foundation of this award-winning production.
| Feature | Details |
| Title | I’m Still Here (Ainda Estou Aqui) |
| Release Year | 2024 |
| Director | Walter Salles |
| Screenplay | Murilo Hauser, Heitor Lorega |
| Cast | Fernanda Torres, Selton Mello, Fernanda Montenegro |
| Based On | Ainda Estou Aqui by Marcelo Rubens Paiva |
| Genre | Political Biographical Drama |
| Runtime | 137 Minutes |
| Cinematography | Adrian Teijido |
| Primary Language | Portuguese |
| Key Awards | Best Screenplay (Venice), Best International Feature (Oscar Winner 2025) |
Full Plot Synopsis: A Family Caught in the Crosshairs
Set in Rio de Janeiro in 1971, I’m Still Here introduces us to the Paiva family, a vibrant, intellectual, and deeply affectionate household living in a beachside home that seems perpetually open to friends, music, and laughter. The patriarch, Rubens Paiva (Selton Mello), is a former congressman and civil engineer who, despite the tightening grip of the Brazilian military dictatorship, maintains an air of normalcy for his wife Eunice (Fernanda Torres) and their five children.
The film’s idyllic first act is a masterclass in establishing stakes through atmosphere. However, the background noise of military helicopters and armored convoys soon pierces the domestic sanctuary. One sunny afternoon, plainclothes government agents arrive at the Paiva home, requesting Rubens accompany them for a “deposition.” He leaves in his own car, never to return.
The narrative then shifts its focus entirely to Eunice. Shortly after Rubens’ abduction, Eunice and her fifteen-year-old daughter, Eliana, are also detained. While Eliana is released after 24 hours, Eunice is held for 12 grueling days in a military prison, subjected to psychological torture and the chilling indifference of a regime that refuses to acknowledge her husband’s whereabouts.
Upon her release, Eunice is thrust into a decades-long struggle. She must reinvent herself—eventually becoming a lawyer—to navigate a legal system designed to protect the perpetrators. The film spans several decades, tracking the family’s transition from grief to activism, culminating in a poignant 2014 coda where an elderly Eunice (played by Fernanda Montenegro) faces the fading of her own memory via Alzheimer’s, even as her family finally secures the official recognition of Rubens’ death.
Detailed Critique: The Art of Quiet Defiance
Direction and Screenplay
Walter Salles exhibits a level of restraint here that is nothing short of masterful. Instead of focusing on the visceral brutality often found in political thrillers, Salles and screenwriters Murilo Hauser and Heitor Lorega ground the horror in the “minutiae of absence.” The screenplay, adapted from the memoir by Marcelo Rubens Paiva (the family’s son), excels at showing how a state-sponsored crime doesn’t just end a life; it fractures a family’s reality. Salles’ personal connection to the Paivas—he was a childhood friend of the children—is evident in the lived-in intimacy of every scene.
Acting: A Powerhouse Performance by Fernanda Torres
If there is one reason above all others to see I’m Still Here, it is Fernanda Torres. Her portrayal of Eunice Paiva is a study in stoic resilience. Torres avoids the “prestige drama” clichés of histrionics and loud outbursts. Instead, she communicates Eunice’s evolving trauma through micro-expressions: the tightening of a jaw, a forced smile for her children, and the steady, intelligent gaze she levels at her oppressors.
Selton Mello provides a warm, charismatic counterpoint as Rubens, making his eventual disappearance feel like a physical void in the film. The inclusion of Fernanda Montenegro (Torres’ real-life mother) in the final act provides a devastating full-circle moment, linking the film back to Salles’ Central Station and grounding the story’s themes of historical memory.
Visuals and Sound: Texture as Narrative
Cinematographer Adrian Teijido uses film stock strategically to differentiate the eras. The 1970s segments are shot on 35mm and Super-16, giving the image a grainy, sun-drenched texture that feels like a family photo album come to life. As the dictatorship’s shadow grows, the lighting becomes more oppressive and the camera more static.
The soundscape, featuring a score by Warren Ellis, balances the upbeat energy of Brazilian Tropicália with pensive, brooding themes. The recurring sound of helicopter blades serves as a brilliant auditory motif for the omnipresent threat of the state.
Strengths and Weaknesses
Strengths
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Historical Accuracy: The film avoids sensationalism, focusing on the bureaucratic banality of evil.
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Leading Performance: Fernanda Torres delivers a career-defining performance that carries the emotional weight of the nation.
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Atmospheric Detail: The production design and cinematography perfectly recreate 1970s Rio.
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Emotional Resonance: The ending provides a rare, earned sense of closure that is both heartbreaking and triumphant.
Weaknesses
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Pacing: At 137 minutes, the middle act’s focus on legal struggle may feel slow to viewers expecting a traditional thriller.
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Cultural Nuance: For non-Brazilian viewers, some of the specific political context of the 1964 coup might feel unexplained.
Final Verdict: A Landmark of Brazilian Cinema
I’m Still Here is a profound meditation on the resilience of the human spirit and the necessity of historical memory. It is a film that demands to be seen, not just as a historical document, but as a warning against the fragility of democracy. Walter Salles has crafted a cinematic monument to those who were “disappeared,” ensuring that their stories—and the courage of those they left behind—will never truly be gone.
Final Rating: 9.5 / 10