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whileiamdying · 19 days ago

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Review: Fernanda Torres pulls off a miracle of maternal courage in ‘I’m Still Here’

Fernanda Torres in the movie “I’m Still Here.” (Alile Onawale / Sony Pictures Classics)

By Carlos Aguilar Jan. 17, 2025 @ 2:46 PM PT

Soufflé is almost ready at the Paiva household just across the street from the beach in sultry Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. From the unmistakably festive atmosphere within the home’s airy rooms, one wouldn’t guess the country is under a ferocious military dictatorship.

That Walter Salles, the acclaimed director of “Central Station” and “The Motorcycle Diaries,” first depicts the tight-knit family of “I’m Still Here” at their most ebullient, before tragedy strikes, pays off dramatic dividends in this remarkably life-affirming drama largely set in 1971 and based on the 2015 memoir by Marcelo Paiva (the Paivas’ only son). A contender for the upcoming international feature Oscar, “I’m Still Here” brilliantly distills an agonizing chapter of a nation’s recent past into a sophisticated portrait of communal endurance.

Already lauded for her quietly shattering performance with a surprise Golden Globes win (the first Brazilian actress to ever receive the prize), Fernanda Torres portrays Eunice Paiva, a mother of five who is married to former Congressman Rubens Paiva(Selton Mello). We see the pent-up worry on her face signaling incipient danger: Helicopters roam the city while news of kidnapped ambassadors pours from the radio.

Within the walls of the Paiva residence (the film was shot in the actual house that belonged to the family), Salles and his cast of both seasoned and fresh-faced actors create a vibrant, lived-in dynamic radiating with affection and carefree liberty. And because we’ve been so wonderfully immersed in the exuberance they are all about to lose, when the darkness reaches their doorstep, in the form of henchmen who take Rubens in for questioning, the contrast between who they were and who they become feels stark.

By that point, Mello has potently established the fatherly warmth his family will sorely miss. In that absence, memory becomes central to “I’m Still Here.” The narrative is interspersed with home movies shot on a 8 mm camera, immortalizing candid instances of leisure and love, the ones that truly matter. Not only are they indelible in the minds of the Paivas, but they are forever preserved in still photos, in Marcelo Paiva’s writing and now onscreen through Salles’ filmic rendition.

The director and cinematographer Adrian Teijido also make the home a shifting co-star and a physical metaphor for Brazil as a whole. Once a place where friends and family entered through perpetually open doors, the space becomes hermetic and airless when curtains are drawn to hide the men who have come to disrupt this idyllic refuge. Through them, the dictatorship instills fear and distrust to maintain power. Salles communicates the state-sanctioned distress by focusing on the family’s upended quotidian rituals.

Eunice responds by offering these goons lunch — maybe in the hope that their ordeal will end sooner, but also as a statement of the type of person she is even to those who might hurt her. (Eventually, she and one of her daughters are detained and interrogated, then released.) Those seemingly muted details about her rich personality come from Marcelo Paiva’s intimate reminiscences about his mother and the Paivas’ collective experience in the aftermath of Rubens’ disappearance, expertly adapted by screenwriters Murilo Hauser and Heitor Lorega.

Torres exudes the unflashy fortitude of a woman unable and unwilling to surrender to despair as the days and weeks go by. How can she when she must raise her children and seek justice for her husband, who may still be alive? Imparting masterful restraint, Torres makes Eunice’s few outbursts feel believably contained. As distanced from melodrama as possible, her performance is one of internalized grief.

And yet, in the midst of her hidden mourning, Eunice treats those around her with loving understanding, empathetic to their respective fears and the limitations of what they can do for her. She moves through the world with a humble resolve, unafraid of doing what needs to be done, never dwelling on what could or should have been done. At every turn, we recognize her desire to spare her kids from the sorrow she carries. A guardian of their tender hearts, she can only hide so much in an authoritarian reality.

Even mere moments after receiving crushing news, Eunice musters up a smile for her youngest daughter and the energy to take the whole gang out for ice cream, seeking to regain a semblance of what they used to have. That amalgamation of a graceful pride during a crisis and superhuman determination is crucial to Torres’ embodiment of Eunice’s inner force. And because she’s perceived as nearly unbreakable, when sorrow does slip through her eyes in a lost stare or a weighted silence, Torres’ expression is beautifully gutting.

Acting of this subtle caliber is rarely celebrated, but Torres unassuming turn has proved undeniable to anyone who watches it. For a film like “I’m Still Here” to emerge on the other side of the repressive Jair Bolsonaro presidency and be embraced at home and abroad so earnestly (it’s Brazil’s highest grosser since the pandemic) is testament to Salles’ assured directorial hand that treats the delicate subject matter with the seriousness it merits while highlighting humanity rather than brutality. There’s a striking elegance to his images in how they bring us closer to the people, not the horrors.

When a photographer suggests that the family pose with a somber demeanor for a shot that will be featured in an article about Rubens’ disappearance, Eunice refuses, instructing her children to smile broadly. Joy proves defiant to the shadowy oppressors who wish to see their “enemies” suffer. Eunice’s victory, as witnessed by Marcelo Paiva and resurrected by Torres (and, briefly, by Brazilian legend Fernanda Montenegro, Torres’ Oscar-nominated mother), is not just about survival but fostering a family united in adversity.

Resistance takes the form of lives well lived. In every laugh shared, in every new memory made and family photo taken, this clan honors those no longer physically present.

'I'm Still Here' In Portuguese with English subtitles Rated: PG-13, for thematic content, some strong language, drug use, smoking and brief nudity

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sl-newsie · 2 years ago

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Cool Your Jets- Ch. 5: Doctor’s Orders (Riff x newcomer)

I wake up the next morning to find sunlight stream’n through the window and noise blare’n everywhere. Right, I’m in the city now. I also find Riff… still clinging to me.

“Umm…” I attempt to struggle outta his grip, but it only makes him squeeze tighter.

“Mmmm… Don’t go,” Riff mumbles.

I sigh, annoyed. “Riff, if ya don’t get off me I’m gonna break your arm!”

He grins up at me. “Why? Ya embarrassed?”

“Yeah, I am! ‘Cause I’ve barely held hands with a guy, let alone lie in bed with a shoitless one!”

“Huh?” Riff looks down and now notices that he’s miss’n his shoit. A wicked smile spreads across his face. “Ya try’n to get be undressed, sweetheart?”

This gets him a punch to the stomach.

“Don’t bet on it, Jet Boy!’ I seethe. “I’s only try’n to keep ya from get’n sick! Your shoit was soaked last night so I took it off. If I didn’t you’d catch a chill and get sick, so excuse me for try’n to be a decent poison!” I huff.

Riff just tilts his head. “Look at ya, already talk’n like a city goil!”

I ignore this and get up, leave’n Riff tangled in the sheets.

“Y’know Riff, about what you said last night…” I mumble as I gather some fresh clothes.

“Hmmm?” He responds groggily from the bed.

“This could be your home too, if you want.”

In the corner of my eye, I see Riff lift his head up. “Really? Ya really mean that, Marilyn?” His voice sounds sad.

I look at the ground. “Yeah, but not if you don’t wanna, if it makes you sad. I’m sorry I brought it up- just forget ‘bout it.”

“So… do ya mean I could rent here with you? For real?” His eyes widen. “Ya ain’t gonna kick me out?” Riff suddenly gets animated and jumps up as if he’s on a sugar high.

I chuckle. “No, you can stay until…” I trail off, remembering that there’s only a few hours ‘til the rumble tonight and that he might not walk away from it.

Riff seems to understand and pulls me over to stand next to him. “Don’t worry, Marilyn. I’ll be back. Noth’ns gonna happen, just rough’n it up with the PRs-”

“Yeah, and eventually someone’s gonna get rubbed out. This doesn’t have to happen, Riff.”

“But if we don’t they’ll just take what little we have left. We were here first!”

I grip his shoulders. “Yes, they are immigrants. But once upon a time aren’t we all descendants from immigrants? America’s supposed to be a melting pot- not a pot that casts aside people just because we don’t like ‘em. So either learn to share and live with it, or leave!”

“That ain't how-”

I throw my arms up dramatically. “I know, that ain’t how it works! But God I really wish it was!” I go open the shades and then head over to get some food outta the fridge.

“Whaddya do’n?” Riff asks.

I grunt. “Make’n breakfast. If you’re gonna die today then by God you’re gonna have a decent meal, Jet Boy. And it’s ‘cause I feel sorry for you, not ‘cause I care ‘bout your stupid gang! Back in the country we made a casserole for families when they were feel’n down, but since I don’t have all the ingredients I’ll just make you Grandmodda’s Omelet.”

“Sounds tasty, beautiful.” Riff comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist.

“Nope. Get away.” I swat him with the spatula.

“Why?” He whines.

“I’m still mad! Just lemme cook!”

“You’re the boss, sweetheart.”

“Mmmm.” I toss some eggs in and turn to stare Riff dead in the eyes.

(Cool Your Jets by The Planet Smashers)

“So you say you like the heat

Can't slow down to kick up your feet

Comes a time for letting go

Everything that you don't know-”

I steer Riff to a chair and sit him down, earning a surprised look from the Jet leader.

“Cool your jets, just take some time

Cool your jets, relax and unwind

Cool your jets, and you'll be fine

Cool your jets, cool your jets.”

I stand behind Riff and message his shoulders, making him moan out in bliss.

“Battles won and battles lost

War has come and war has passed

Work so hard to get ahead

Lighten up be here instead and…

Cool your jets, just take some time

Cool your jets, relax and unwind

Cool your jets, and you'll be fine

Cool your jets, cool your jets…”

I’m about to turn back to the kitchen, but then Riff grabs my wrist and twirls me in to fall onto his lap. At foist I’m a blush’n mess, but then I see his grateful, sad eyes and am reminded about how little Riff has. This is probably the most peace of mind he’s had in a long time…

Now I look at him with a pleading expression.

“What's the point of pushing ahead?

Wait to sleep when you are dead.

The time is now to take a break,

Kick back and take some time to

Cool your jets, cool your jets.”

Riff don’t say anything. We just stare at each odda, as if we already know what the odda’s thinking. It’s no use- no madda how hard I try, Riff won’t back down from a rumble because he needs to prove he can fight.

Riff rubs my hand with his thumb and licks his lips noivously. “Marilyn, if someth’n happens tonight-”

Just then, the door bursts open and a flustered Mouthpiece bursts in.

“Riff! There ya are! We’s was look’n for ya! Ya never came back to the junkyard-” He notices us at the table, then a cheesy grin gets on his face. “Oh, I see it. Spend’n some time with the new goil, huh boss? I like to see ya happy, but right now we gotta go! Everybody’s wait’n for you!” He grabs Riff’s arm and starts to pull him out the door.

Riff gives me a quick look of apology, then nods. “Alright. Just gimme a minute.”

After Riff cleans his plate he gives me a quick peck on the cheek and scoots off towards the door to follow Mouthpiece.

“Sorry, Lynnie. Duty calls!”

All I can do is roll my eyes at his child-like behavior. After tidying up a bit, I decide to head out to look for a job. When I get outside I see Anita and the other Puerto Rican women dancing through the street, and it brings a smile to my face.

“I like the shores of America!

Comfort is yours in America!

Knobs on the doors in America,

Wall-to-wall floors in America!”

It makes me so happy to see people taking America’s great opportunity and turning it into something, unlike the Jets who just expect violence to solve everything.

I chose to check out the place I walked by yesterday- Doc’s. It’s a bit too close to the Jets’ turf for my taste, but I can’t be too picky. The outside looks inviting enough. When I walk in, a short, kind-looking older woman with curly white hair comes running up the cellar steps.

“Uno momento! Just a second!” She hurries behind the counter and dusts herself off. “Hola, mi querida! And what can Valentina do for you today?”

I give her a shy smile. “Well, I was hoping that you might have a job opening?”

The old lady’s eyes light up and she claps her hands. “Ah, si! Yes yes! As a matter of fact, I have one opening left! I just hired a boy named Tony a few days ago-”

“Oh! Tony? He works here?”

“Si! You know him? He’s a very well-behaved boy. But always involved with those Jets!” She puts her hands on her hips and frowns at the shelves, as if she were Tony modda.

I shrug. “Whaddya gonna do? Boys can be so stubborn that noth’n can stop them.”

Valentina rolls her eyes. “Amen to that! Has he told you about Maria?”

I stifle a laugh. “Not really, but it don’t take a genius to see it. It’s kinda hard not to notice!”

“All too true, mi querida. What’s your name?”

“Marilyn Jackson.”

She smiles. “What a beautiful name. So what brings you here? I’ve never seen you before, and I know everyone in the West Side! Out of town maybe?”

I nod. “Yes. My parents died in a car crash, so I had to move here from upstate.”

The kind woman’s eyes widen and she comes over to give me a tight hug. “Dear girl, I am so sorry you’ve had to go through that. Are you here by yourself?”

“Yeah. That’s why I’m looking for a job, so I can pay rent-”

“Nonsense! I would be more than willing to let you stay with me,” Valentina offers.

I hold my hands up. “Oh, no. That’s ok-”

“I do not want a girl living alone surrounded by all kinds of New York scum-”

“Oh no, it’s not like that!” A smile spreads on my face. “I’m living in the same apartment as Maria and Anita, right across the hall actually!”

Now Valentina’s concern melts away and she brings her hands up to cup my face. “Then the dear Lord truly has led you to a good place! Take it from me, New York at first can be a bit challenging but once you get the feel of it then you can accomplish anything!”

I chuckle. “So it’s true when they say: if you can make it here, you can make it anywhere. Huh. So when can I start work?”

Valentina seems to think this over, then says: “Would tomorrow morning work out?”

My face lights up. “Yes! That would be wonderful! Thank you so much!”

My new boss gives a hearty cackle and then scans the counter. She picks out a candy bar and hands it to me with a wink. “On the house, mi querida. Welcome to the family.”

I shake my head. “No, no, I couldn’t! Please, let me pay for it-”

“I’ve seen how kind you are to Maria and the other Puerto Ricans. And with the Jets bullying them constantly they need someone like you to be there for them. Have you met them yet?”

I noivously shuffle my feet. “Um, yeah. They’re coitanly a handful.”

Valentina gives me a confused look, then I get why.

“Sorry. I meant ‘certainly a handful.’ I’ve already started talk’n city talk.” I shake my head, smiling.

Just then, the door swings open and Baby John pokes his head in.

“Oh. Hi Marilyn! Hola Valentina!”

Valentina seems skeptical at foist, but then gives Baby John a welcoming smile. “Good morning, young man. Are you looking for something?”

He nods his head. “Actually, I was sent to find Marilyn.”

“Really?” I ask uncertainly.

“Yup. Riff just wanted to make sure you’re ok.”

I roll my eyes. “Riff just has to keep tabs on me 24/7, don’t he?”

Baby John shrugs and gives me a look of apology. “Guess so.”

“By the way, how’s the ear?” I ask.

Now Valentina notices Baby John’s ear, which is still untouched and bleeding slightly.

“Dear Lord! What happened?” She goes to inspect the Jet boy’s ear, her face showing deep concern.

��Some Sharks shoved a nail in his ear during a fight yesterday,” I tell her. “And now he’s gonna come with me to get it fixed.” I grab Baby John’s arm and start to lead him out the door.

“Hey wait a minute! Why do I gotta-?” He tries to argue.

“Because if you don’t it will become infected. And I for one do not want to deal with a Jet who gets blood poisoning.” I turn back to call out to Valentina. “I’ll be here foist thing tomorrow!”

She waves. “Make sure that boy gets proper medical care! There’s a clinic a few blocks down, ask for Josephine!”

I take her advice and briskly walk Baby John to the small clinic, one that already seems to be bustling with activity.

Baby John groans. “I donno. It really ain’t that big-a deal-”

“Too late.” I drag him inside. At the front desk, a dark-skinned brunette looks up from her paperwork. When she sees Baby John her face shows a small look of distaste.

“Can I help you?” She asks crossly.

“Sorry for showing up outta the blue, but this man’s ear needs medical attention.” I show her Baby John’s ear. “He had a nail in it yesterday. Valentina from Doc’s sent us and said to ask for Josephine.”

Now the lady’s face changes. “Oh, you know Valentina? Yes of course! Right this way!” She leads us down a long white hallway and into a small waiting room, where a Puerto Rican woman appears to be reviewing some files.

“Josephine! I’ve got a patient for you from Valentina.” She turns and leaves us with the nurse, who looks us up and down.

“My my, what happened?” Josephine tsks as she examines Baby John’s ear. “Another gang fight, si? You boys always find new ways to get into trouble, one way or another. Go, sit up on the chair.” She tells Baby John, then looks over at me. “I’m afraid he’ll need to have some tests done, just to make sure there’s no infection. But he should be alright. If Valentina sent you then I know I can trust you. What’s your name?”

“Marilyn. Just moved here, and already caught up in the action,” I chuckle darkly.

Josephine just laughs. “You get used to it! And if you ever need anything, don't be afraid to walk right in! Rosie up front can be a bit intimidating, but she's very nice. So…” She goes to start writing up Baby John’s medical file. “Your friend should be set to go in an hour or so.”

I nod. “Poifect! I’ll let his friends know. Thanks so much!” I look over at Baby John, who’s busy look’n at all the equipment on the table. “Behave yourself, got it?”

He nods eagerly. “Yes, ma’am!”

I give Josephine an assuring look. “He shouldn’t give you any trouble.”

She smiles at the Jet boy. “Good to know. I don’t want you to touch your ear from now on until we can get it wrapped up. Doctor’s orders!”

Baby John rolls his eyes but follows her instructions.

I turn and walk back down the hallway, giving the lady at the desk a parting wave. Just as I’m leaving the clinic, I see Riff strutting down the block.

“Ey, Lynnie! Look what we got!” Riff runs up and flaunts a pistol in my face.

My eyes widen at the sight-a the weapon.

“Hey! Are ya crazy? Put that thing away before ya kill somebody!” I snatch it and tuck it away safely in my purse.

Riff, however, don’t share my viewpoint. “What the Hell? Give it back!” He tries to grab my purse but I shove him against the alley wall.

“No, Riff! I’ve had enough-a this! I will not just stand by while you lead the Jets to their death!”

“Aw, c’mon Lynnie. We ain’t gonna kill anybody, just rough ‘em up a bit. We ain’t gonna use it unless we have to-”

“And how do you decide that? Just- God damn it, Riff!” I bang my fists against his chest and sob. “I just lost my family, I can’t lose you too!”

Riff don’t say anyth’n. Instead he takes my fists in his hands.

I shake my head. “Don’t, Riff. Just don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“I know you, Riff. You’re just gonna try to soften me up and make me forget this. But I won’t- it’s too important.”

“Mmm. See you figured me out, beautiful.” He leans his forehead against mine. “Don’t worry, Marilyn. You ain’t gonna lose us. We know what we’re do’n.”

“What about Tony? Hm? Did ya know what you was do’n when he got shipped off?”

Riff hesitates. “That was a close one, but we know better now-”

I lift my head up and stare into his hazel eyes. “Do you, Riff? Do you? I thought I was naive before, but now I feel like I’m the most reasonable person here! Think about how many people you’re hurting- Tony, Maria, Anita, Bernardo, everybody! No one wants to fight, but you’re all too stubborn to call it off!”

“Hey! If we don’t do this, all-a them new gangs’ll think they can just walk all over us! We gotta take a stand! But you don’t get it, ‘cause you’ve always had family. Us Jets, territory is all we got. You’ll never understand.” Riff shakes his head and I can see now that he's fished the gun outta my purse.

I push him away and glare deep into his dark eyes. “Don’t talk to me about family, Riff. Obviously you’s too headstrong and egotistical to even begin to know how much family means to me.” I pivot and start walk’n in the direction of my apartment. “And don’t follow me unless you want a fist to the face!”

I keep walk’n, and give a sigh of relief to see that Riff took my warning seriously and left. I’m almost home-

“Excuse me, miss.”

I turn around and am faced with a man in a brown jacket and gray fedora, and also notice the police badge he’s wearing.

“I’m sorry officer, is there a problem?”

The guy tilts his head. “Not yet. I’m afraid I’m gonna have to ask you to come with me down to the station so I can ask you a few questions.”

Immediately my thoughts race with panic. “Have I done something wrong?”

The cop shakes his head. “No, but I’m gonna need to know some things ‘bout your buddy that just left. Riff, the Jet leader? Now if you’ll just come with me…”

I bite my lip and give my apartment one last look before giving in and allowing the cop to escort me to the police station. God, what have I gotten myself into?

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