By JULIO CESAR TELES*
It is not just a film that knew how to use visual resources, period sources or portray a traumatic moment in Brazilian history; it is a necessary film, which assumes the function of memory and resistance.
More than winning awards – with all due respect to their anniversaries –, The In Between (2024), directed by Walter Salles, is a necessary film. At a time when there are still those who call the Brazilian civil-military dictatorship (1964-1985) a “revolution” and some even call for its return, I'm still here shows how this regime has affected people to this day, including the families that the government jokingly claimed to protect.
In a visual narrative divided into three periods (1970, 1996 and 2014), the film builds an intense plot. This review will address fundamental issues of each of these moments, and from here on, there will be spoilers.
1970
At the height of the regime's hardening, we follow the life of former congressman Rubens Paiva, who was dismissed by the government. Like any other family, the engineer continued his activities in the South Zone of Rio de Janeiro. Eunice, his wife, and their five children lived a festive life with a dog found on the beach, in the shadow of Corcovado. This family, like so many others, was intercepted one day by plainclothes soldiers: the father was taken away; shortly after, it was the mother and the eldest daughter's turn. From that moment on, no one knows what happened to him.
The daughter is released one day; the mother, after suffering psychological torture in a military prison, returns home a few days later. Upon returning, she finds her children desperate, having to deal with financial difficulties and an unannounced mourning. To make matters worse, the youngest son's dog was run over, an intense scene that symbolizes the death of Rubens Paiva in 1971. The family changes their entire life without the father, leaving Rio de Janeiro for São Paulo, shortly after the eldest daughter returns from England, where she was when her father disappeared and learned of the tragedy through the international press.
1996
The mother, now a lawyer, transforms her grief into a tool of struggle, fighting against land grabbers on indigenous lands and acting for the 1988 Constitution, an important milestone for those persecuted and killed by the dictatorship. In this context, the delivery of the death certificate, obtained by Eunice Paiva, stands out. The most striking phrase in the film comes at this moment: “Disappearance was one of the worst tortures, not only for the disappeared, but for all those who remained.” How many families never saw their loved ones again? How many sons and daughters were left orphaned? And, most cruelly, all under the apparatus of the State itself, which denied involvement in such events.
In Fernanda Torres’ unique interpretation, Eunice Paiva reflects on the strangeness of finding relief in a death certificate, which at least confirms the death of a loved one as a result of disagreeing with the regime. The pain of this mourning – never fully permitted – exemplifies the ongoing suffering that the dictatorship caused to countless families who never received answers about their missing persons or, when they did, learned that those responsible remained unpunished. Even with the redemocratization of Brazil and the advances of the 1988 Federal Constitution, impunity persisted.
2014
The final cut, from 2014, ends the film with subtlety and profound reflections. After years of struggles and overcoming, the family gathers around Eunice Paiva, now elderly and suffering from Alzheimer's – played at this point by the brilliant Fernanda Montenegro –, a cruel disease that makes a person forget, in its most advanced stages, even their own identity. In analogy, the disease alludes to the attempt by some segments of society to “forget” the hard years of the dictatorship or even justify this period as “a necessary evil”.
The scene culminates when, while her children are getting ready for a photo outside, Eunice watches a report about victims of the regime who have become symbols of resistance. When she sees Rubens Paiva's name and photo on the screen, a slight expression suggests that she has finally managed to bring the truth to light, an achievement in the face of the silence imposed by the regime.
The visual narrative ends with information about the real case, stating that Eunice Paiva passed away in 2018 after years of living with Alzheimer's. In the closing credits, we are presented with photographs from the time and the information that, even with the recognition, by the National Truth Commission (2014), of the five people involved in the death of Rubens Paiva, none of them were tried.
The impunity of traumatic memories causes outrage and makes the art of this film even more impactful. It is no coincidence that this writer and his partner left the session with an accumulation of feelings and tears in their eyes, which motivated this text.
I'm still here It is not just a film that knew how to use visual resources, period sources or portray a traumatic moment in Brazilian history; it is a necessary film. In times of rising absurd ideas, which can lead to regimes of exception that reject dissent, reopening unhealed wounds – because justice, in this case, was ironically made impossible by the law itself –, this film assumes the function of memory and resistance. The Amnesty Law, which at its time restored democracy, also allowed the military responsible for the torture and death of many Brazilians to remain unpunished, in their homes, with their families.
*Julio Cesar Teles He is a master's student in history at the Federal University of São Paulo (Unifesp).
Reference
I'm still here
Brazil, 2024, 135 minutes.
Directed by: Walter Salles.
Screenplay: Murilo Hauser and Heitor Lorega.
Cinematography: Adrian Teijido.
Editing: Affonso Gonçalves.
Art Direction: Carlos Conti
Music: Warren Ellis
Cast: Fernanda Torres; Fernanda Montenegro; Selton Mello; Valentina Herszage, Luiza Kosovski, Barbara Luz, Guilherme Silveira and Cora Ramalho, Olivia Torres, Antonio Saboia, Marjorie Estiano, Maria Manoella and Gabriela Carneiro da Cunha.
REFERENCES
National Truth Commission (CNV). Available in: http://cnv.memoriasreveladas.gov.br/
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