“I’m Still Here” (“Ainda Estou Aquí”) (2024). Cast: Fernanda Torres, Fernanda Montenegro, Selton Mello, Valentina Herszage, Barbara Luz, Luiza Kosovski, Guilherme Silveira, Antonio Saboia, Cora Mora, Olivia Torres, Pri Helena, Caio Horowicz, Charles Fricks, Maeve Jinkings, Thelmo Fernandes, Carla Ribas, Luiz Bertazzo, Alan Rocha. Director: Walter Salles. Screenplay: Murilo Hauser and Heitor Lorega. Book: Marcelo Rubens Paiva, Ainda Estou Aquí (I’m Still Here) (2015). Web site. Trailer.

Hope is an undeniably powerful force, and a belief in it firmly cements our faith in it in our consciousness. It’s difficult to shake, too, hanging on persistently in our worldview. Admittedly, though, when circumstances challenge its validity and viability, that quality can come under fire, perhaps even prompting us to question its strength and resilience. But such conditions can also serve to affirm our convictions, to galvanize us in our views of the power of hope, particularly when it seems like that’s all we have going for us. Such is what can happen when we’re up against dire, intimidating threats to us and those we care about, a scenario aptly explored in the new, fact-based historical drama, “I’m Still Here” (“Ainda Estou Aquí”).

In 1971, former Brazilian politician Rubens Paiva (Selton Mello) was living what he believed to be a mostly quiet life as a private citizen in Rio de Janeiro with his wife, Eunice (Fernanda Torres), and their five children. After several years of liberal political activism in the Brazilian Labour Party, his status as a Congressman was revoked when a military coup d’etat in 1964 overthrew the government, removing those with so-called “leftist” views. This subsequently led to Paiva’s voluntary overseas exile in Europe. He later returned to Brazil, however, where he began leading a comparatively low-key existence, focusing on family life and working as a civil engineer.

Despite this new approach to life, though, Paiva’s activism did not completely cease. He quietly assisted others in aiding dissidents who were under scrutiny by the country’s military dictatorship. With his friend journalist Fernando Gasparian (Charles Fricks), he also helped found and oversaw operations of the newspaper Jornal de Debates, a publication aimed at presenting various political opinions, providing a forum for public debate and one that authorities didn’t always approve of. But, much of the time, Paiva was most concerned with his engineering work and the happiness and well-being of his loving family. They were particularly eager about moving from their rented residence into a new home of their own for which they were about to break ground.

However, this new lifestyle aside, the political situation in Brazil was becoming increasingly unstable, especially in the wake of a round of terrorist attacks. Because of that, intrusive incidents like roadblocks with arbitrary search and seizure initiatives were becoming more common, as Rubens’ daughter, Veroca (Valentina Herszage), and her boyfriend, Pimpão (Caio Horowicz), discovered for themselves firsthand. What’s more, anyone with even the slightest anti-government leanings came under growing scrutiny by officials. These “suspects” were routinely rounded up and subjected to arrest, interrogation and torture to discover any secrets they might be harboring, especially when it came to anyone they knew or were associated with. And, in January 1971, Paiva himself became the latest target of such treatment.

When a party of plainclothes armed men showed up at Paiva’s home, he was taken away for questioning. Little information was provided about where he was going, what he would be interrogated about and how long he would be gone. Meanwhile, several members of this posse remained behind with the family. And, when Paiva did not return, Eunice and her children became concerned – and even more so when she and her 15-year-old daughter, Eliana (Luiza Kosovski), were themselves subsequently taken.

Eunice and Eliana were removed to a military interrogation facility, where they were separated and subjected to questioning. While Eliana was returned home quickly, Eunice was held for 12 days and put through multiple rounds of intense grilling. She was finally released and allowed to return home. But, before leaving the facility, she spotted her husband’s car in the parking lot, prompting her to believe that he had been taken to the same location, even though his whereabouts were unknown and remained undisclosed by officials.

Despite the intimidation to which she had been subjected, Eunice was determined to find out what happened to Rubens. She began her own informal investigation in earnest, quietly consulting her husband’s associates, routinely pressing authorities for information and defiantly taking her case to the press, but all to no avail. Nevertheless, Eunice refused to give up hope, even though the situation grew increasingly bleak as the duration of Rubens’ absence lengthened. She insisted on continuing with her inquiry until she received a definitive answer about his fate one way or another. And, as time passed, even though hope of his return began to fade, her hope of uncovering the truth of what happened remained steadfast, a conviction that she passed on to her children and that they adhered to as firmly as their mother did. If authorities harmed or killed her husband, she was determined to make sure that the public knew about it, no matter how long that revelation would take to surface.

In Rubens’ absence, Eunice became the head of the household and had to assume responsibility for her family’s well-being. As difficult as it was, she had to move on when it became apparent that her husband was not coming back. That meant sacrificing much, including the dream of their new home. It also meant that she would need to find a means of support for herself and the children. But, again, Eunice rose to the occasion, ever hopeful that she would be able to pick up the pieces and carry on – which she did, establishing a legacy of her own, one again based on uncovering the truth and taking on the kinds of forces whom her husband combatted. Behind it all though was her assertion that hope would lead the way, setting an example for all of us to follow.

Without hope, however, the merits of this story would essentially be nonexistent, as it plays such a central role in the narrative in so many ways. And, to be sure, the absence of a belief in it wouldn’t mean much, either, given its role in bringing this concept into being in our existence. Such is what our beliefs make possible for us thanks to the conscious creation process, the philosophy that enables the materialization of the outcomes we experience. It’s unclear whether any of the characters in this film were aware of this school of thought or what it can yield, yet, based on their actions and the results they attained, it’s apparent that they had some kind of connection to its principles, even if they weren’t consciously cognizant of them. And, considering the conditions under which they were operating, such fittingly empowered beliefs were essential if they were to ever realize any of the outcomes they sought.

As noted above, a belief in hope played a pivotal role in nearly all of the aspirations that Eunice and her family were seeking to manifest. Most obviously, and most importantly, this was true in their desire to see Rubens safely returned to them. It kept them going at a time when it might have been easier to just give up. But, as Eunice and her family saw it, there was too much at stake to do that, not just for them, but for Brazil as a whole. If Rubens could so easily become one of the desaparecidos – “the disappeared” – what was there to prevent similar outcomes from occurring among other Brazilians simply because their social and political views didn’t concur with those in power? Even if hope for Rubens’ recovery was a long shot that grew progressively dimmer over time, those who held on to such an increasingly unlikely prospect could at least take some solace in raising awareness about his story in the hope that his fellow countrymen would not suffer the same fate. Such an outcome might not have made up for their loss, but they could nevertheless take comfort in the notion that publicizing his treatment might help to prevent it from happening to others who shared his views and circumstances.

A belief in hope also played a vital role in the revelation of what ultimately happened to Rubens. In authoritarian regimes like the one that was in place in Brazil at the time, it would have been easy for those in power (and even their eventual, more open-minded successors) to just disregard what happened, to sweep it under the rug as a liability or an embarrassment that was more expediently ignored than addressed. But Eunice and her family refused to capitulate on this point: They kept up pressure on the government – even after the dictatorship was out of office – to get an answer on what happened to their husband and father. Even as the years passed, they remained diligent – and hopeful – that an answer would come. And, when word of Rubens’ fate finally surfaced, it served as yet another reminder to the Brazilian people about what can happen when the power of autocrats is unchecked and allowed to run roughshod over its citizenry, a powerful cautionary tale to any nation experiencing such conditions, even in those where human rights protections are supposedly in place and guaranteed to all.

Then there was the role that hope played in helping Eunice to successfully reinvent herself. As a wife and mother, her role had been largely domestic for many years. But, when she was forced into becoming the family’s head of household, she needed to adapt in a number of ways. Her innate resourcefulness and her belief in her ability to successfully tap into that aptitude fueled her hope that she could make the necessary adjustments. In addition to caring for her family, she became a lawyer and activist who specialized in human and civil rights, not only in exposing what happened to Rubens and other desaparecidos, but also as an advocate for Brazil’s indigenous peoples, particularly in the areas of violence committed against them and illegal expropriation of their lands.

Eunice’s hopes for the success of these various endeavors were obviously well placed. Her path may not have been an easy one, but she put faith in her beliefs and clung to them, drawing on their ample power and persistence to tackle the many challenges she faced. She truly showed us the many virtues that are embodied within the spirit of hope and how to employ them in making the world a better, fairer and more equitable place. Her work may not be complete, but she did much to help further the cause – and, one would hope, to inspire others to carry on with it.

Films that incorporate dark political themes are an acquired taste for many moviegoers, but, when they tell personal stories within such a context, they generally become more accessible and relatable for audience members, even those who might not ordinarily gravitate to pictures in this genre. That’s a goal expertly accomplished in this latest work from director Walter Salles. This superb fact-based offering tells the heart-wrenching story of the Paiva family, primarily from the perspective of its steely, determined matriarch, who endured much but staunchly persisted in the face of adversity. In telling this story, the filmmaker not only imparts a tale of high suspense, but also presents a compelling chronicle of a family committed to remaining hopeful and uncovering the truth, no matter how horrendous it might ultimately prove to be.

In carrying out its mission, “I’m Still Here” successfully fires on all of its cinematic cylinders, perpetually engaging viewers in a gripping, emotionally charged odyssey, not unlike the movies of famed filmmaker Costa-Gavras (most notably “Missing” (1982)). Much of the credit here belongs to Torres for her stellar, Oscar-nominated and Golden Globe Award-winning lead performance, one that skillfully portrays a woman of both vulnerability and resolve, backed by a wealth of diverse feelings. This offering is handily my favorite release of 2024 and, in my view, the nominee most deserving of this year’s Oscars for best picture, lead actress and international picture, hands down. By all means, do not pass this one up.

In addition to the picture’s three Academy Award nominations, “I’m Still Here” is richly deserving of the many other accolades it has received, including nominations for best foreign language film in the BAFTA, Critics Choice and Golden Globe Award competitions, as well its designation as one of the National Board of Review’s Top 5 foreign language films of 2024. In my opinion, this release is genuinely worthy of even broader recognition than it has received, but it’s gratifying to see that it has at least been accorded the attention it has managed to garner. The film is currently playing theatrically.

In 2006, then-Senator Barack Obama (D-IL) published the best-selling book The Audacity of Hope prior to announcing his plans to run for President in 2008. While much of the book focused on political concerns, and regardless of what one might think of his politics, I was most struck by the book’s eye-catching title. While “audacity” may not be a word that one would readily associate with “hope,” it nevertheless accurately describes a trait that we should take into consideration when we contemplate the qualities underlying this notion. Indeed, given the gravity of many difficult situations, “hope” may seem like an unrealistic, perhaps even arrogant, attitude in the face of such daunting circumstances. One might even wonder how anybody could hold onto such a “naïve” view in light of those scenarios. However, if those challenges are to be overcome, “audacity” may be the only way we can hold out under those conditions. It may be the sole quality that allows us to carry on to resolve matters or even to realize an outcome that seemingly defies the odds. And, without it, there may not be any reason to maintain any degree of perseverance, even when it comes to just discovering the truth, regardless of whether it turns out to be what we’re hoping for. Some may call this foolish wishful thinking; others might see it as a bold act of defiance against forces that see themselves as being invincible and unaccountable. If we ever lose sight of that, we could well find ourselves without any hope at all – and what a genuine tragedy that would be.

Copyright © 2025, by Brent Marchant. All rights reserved.