I'm Still Here
Nothing lasts forever. Except the truth.
Some films can be approached from two different perspectives: with prior knowledge or without it. And both perspectives offer something unique. I went into I'm Still Here without knowing it was a biographical film about real people, and that made the experience even more powerful. I was discovering the story as it unfolded, without any expectations. At the same time, those who know the history—who understand the context and the eventual fate of its real-life figures—will see it from a completely different angle. But no matter how you approach it, one thing remains undeniable: this is a stunning, deeply emotional film that leaves no one indifferent.
The story follows Brazilian ex-congressman Rubens Paiva, who, after years in exile due to the 1964 military coup, returns to Rio de Janeiro to live a quiet life with his wife Eunice and their five children. Though he has stepped away from politics, he continues to secretly support the democratic movement—until his past catches up with him. Arrested and ultimately murdered by the dictatorship, Rubens becomes a tragic symbol of the regime’s brutality. But the film isn’t just about him. It is, above all, the story of Eunice, a woman forced to become both mother and father to her children, to fight for the truth while enduring her own imprisonment and torture, and to find a way forward despite overwhelming grief.
What makes I'm Still Here so powerful is that it tells two very distinct but equally urgent stories. On one level, it’s a deeply personal tale about a family dealing with unbearable loss. On another, it’s a stark reminder of how dictatorships crush lives, instill fear, and operate with unchecked cruelty. And while we’d like to believe this is simply a history lesson about the past, the sad truth is that similar horrors are still happening today—not just in distant lands, but in places much closer than we’d like to admit. This is a film about absolute power, about the reckless greed of those who rule through fear, and about the resilience of those who refuse to be silenced.
The second half of the film is particularly poignant, taking us to 1996, when Eunice and her children finally receive some measure of justice. By then, Rubens’ story has become one of the most well-known examples of the horrors of the dictatorship—a face of the countless tragedies inflicted by the regime. And then there’s the final act, set in 2014, which may not have been entirely necessary, but still adds an extra layer of depth. We see Eunice in her old age, suffering from Alzheimer’s, watching a TV broadcast about the National Truth Commission’s investigation. In that moment, as Rubens’ name is spoken, something flickers in her eyes. A memory. A recognition. And for a brief moment, a faint smile appears on her face.
But let's talk about the performances. Fernanda Torres is the soul and beating heart of I'm Still Here, delivering a performance so layered, so deeply human, that it is truly beyond any praise. She captures the quiet strength of a woman who has no choice but to be strong, who is broken yet unbreakable, who carries the weight of history (and secrets, as she must protect her family by keeping the truth about her husband’s disappearance—and the fact that he will never return from prison—a secret) and still finds a way to move forward. The children, too, deliver incredibly natural performances, adding to the film’s authenticity and emotional power.
This is easily one of the best films of the season. A film with a story that is simple yet monumental, that reminds us of truths we should all know by now—but that the world keeps needing to relearn. Because no dictatorship lasts forever. No amount of terror or brutality can erase history. And in the end, truth always wins.
9.5/10
