Per-se-cution-per-se - I'm Still Here

Ioana Satmari • 4/21/2025

Suspended between pen and paper, Ainda Estou Aqui / I’m Still Here, directed by Walter Salles, crumbles instead of exposing the violence of an authentic collapse. Although inspired by real events, it fails to convey a genuine sense of loss. The idea of a “background” is crucial since the film explores and demonstrates how our identities need that background to take shape. Yet, the sensation of loss and its background are absent.

The story is woven solely from the protagonist’s impressions and perception: a testimony of a time of unrest that dissipates in dialogue. Eunice Paiva (Fernanda Torres), the wife of a former congressman captured by the military, is caught between a brutal dictatorship and personal dilemmas, brought to the foreground without that foreground being imbued with a reality that truly shakes. In 70s Brazil, where the dictatorship spoke, people with former political positions who “threatened” the current regime were persecuted. Such is the case of Eunice’s husband, Rubens Paiva (Selton Mello), the two being parents to four children.

The film promises silent terror, but it quickly dissolves, lacking the necessary weight. At first glance, its essence might seem intriguing: a story about a family trapped in a brutal dictatorship. Yet, despite appearances, the film remains anchored in a gray zone where themes are merely touched upon, and emotional intensity remains superficial. It revolves in a cold detachment, a formal play of images.

Of course, the director envisions an oppressive world, but he does so in such an abstract manner that the audience fails to feel the tension a dictatorship should instill. The film delves into political themes common to authoritarian regimes, but these are presented more as mere images rather than an authentic force breathing life into reality. It feels as though the sea and the dance-filled evenings have seeped too deeply into the film, diluting the sharpness of its social themes. A sense of dread lingers in the air, yet it is not even whispered. I wanted to feel myself sinking into my seat. To sense, beyond those vibrant colors, those smiles, that ocean, that everything is so horrifying that beauty itself becomes repulsive. Hard to endure.

In a flat setting, the film moves its story from the beach to a large house and, at one point, to a prison. The world moves as if through honey, without inner panic. We fail to feel the inner misery that should define such a period of collapse. In stark contrast to films that have truly captured the atmosphere of a terrifying historical period, Ainda Estou Aqui / I’m Still Here seems too narrow to give rise to a truly harrowing story.

The reception and perception of Ainda Estou Aqui / I’m Still Here, upheld by the fervent defense of Brazilian audiences against any and all criticism, helped it become a nominee and ultimately win the Oscar for Best International Feature Film. Not necessarily due to its cinematic qualities, but rather as a result of an aggressive promotional mechanism and the financial influence behind the industry. Although Brazilian support was strong in the media, the film remained elegant, in a comfort-friendly oppression. A sort of persecution for beginners. The Oscars have become more of an artificial validation of films heavily promoted by studios and PR agents with unlimited resources. In reality, the Oscar has turned more into a marketing symbol than a true guarantee of artistic value. This award’s popularization has shaped public perception, making people believe that an Oscar-winning film is inherently exceptional. To win Best International Feature, you have to compete against the Rest of the World. The entire world. Yet, the only ones who truly stand a chance at winning are those who manage to be seen.

Instead of being a document of loss and fear, the film remains trapped in a rigid narrative structure. Even the characters, despite being placed in a difficult context, are more symbols of ideas than complex individuals. It falls far short of immersing us in the horrors of a dictatorship. The film stops at the surface of an intellectualized discourse, where everything is clear, yet nothing is truly felt. A story that could have been a profound analysis of fear and oppression but ends up as a mere emulation of what could have been.

In an era where films often present themselves as mirrors of contemporary crises, Ainda Estou Aqui / I’m Still Here comes across as a shallow introspection into a political reality. It tries to build a world, but it lacks a solid foundation within a turbulent reality to support it.