Ethics on Film: Discussion of "I'm Still Here"

There is always more to learn when it comes to the authoritarian regimes of the 20th century. Nazi Germany, Maoist China, and Stalinist Russia might be the headliners of this phenomenon, but there are countless others that will never get the attention that their victims deserve: Argentina, Chile, Nicaragua, Libya, Haiti, the Dominican Republic, Cuba, Spain, South Africa, Korea, Indonesia, Uganda, Zaire, Greece . . . the list goes on and on.

I’m Still Here, an Oscar-winning 2024 Brazilian film directed by Walter Salles, is focused on one family living through one of these episodes—Brazil’s military dictatorship, which lasted from 1964 to 1985. But the story would certainly and unfortunately feel familiar to many millions of people throughout the world. Based on the memoir of Marcelo Rubens Paiva, the film takes a deeply personal and unflinchingly honest look at the granular effects of authoritarianism.

Synopsis

When the film starts in December 1970, Rubens and Eunice Paiva (Selton Mello and Fernanda Torres) seemingly have it all: a beautiful house in Rio de Janeiro by the beach, five energetic and bright children, and friends stopping by at all hours (including the director Salles). Rubens, a good-natured engineer and former congressman, loves Scotch and cigarettes (but not too much) and playing foosball with his son, and future author, Marcelo. But he also gets cryptic phone calls and makes and receives vague “deliveries.” This combined with the general air of menace supplied by the so-called “Fifth Brazilian Republic”—armored helicopters hovering over the beach, military checkpoints, constant news updates about kidnapped diplomats—makes it clear that this idyllic family life is about to be shattered.

Sure enough, on one normal sunny day plainclothes government agents arrive at the Paiva home and in a quietly forceful way quickly usher a polite and accommodating Rubens into his red sports car to be taken in for “questioning.” It’s the last time the family will be together. Eventually Eunice and her 15-year-old daughter are also taken in. It’s not clear exactly what the government is after, but over 12 days, Eunice, who truly knows nothing about what her husband has done, is subjected to interrogations and solitary confinement (her daughter goes home after one night). It’s a horrific ordeal, but the blood on the floors and the screams from other cells make it clear it could be much, much worse. After Eunice gets home, she learns that her husband has been helping the resistance in non-violent ways, talking to the foreign press and sharing information with victims’ families. Sometime later Eunice hears that Rubens has, in fact, been murdered and she and the children move closer to her family home in Sao Paolo.

Twenty-five years later, Eunice is a lawyer pursuing some form of accountability for her husband and other victims. Her tireless work finally results in a death certificate for Rubens—his body was never found and the official line from the government had been that he died in a violent struggle after trying to escape his captors, not, as was the case, tortured to death in a prison cell. Marcelo is now a celebrity in Brazil—he becomes paralyzed after an accident but writes a best-selling book about his recovery—and along with his mom, and his sisters, they “celebrate” this closure. Another time jump to 2014 shows Eunice (played here by the legendary Fernanda Montenegro) suffering from late-stage Alzheimer’s disease as her family gathers around to look at old photos, inspiring Marcelo to write the memoir that would become the film.

Unseen Violence

When Eunice finally gets Rubens’ death certificate, she says: “Forced disappearances were one of the cruelest acts of the regime because you kill one person and condemn all the others to eternal psychological torture.” The story emphasizes this theme in quite a notable way: There is virtually no physical violence in the film even though the story is centered on the torture and murder of Rubens. After this, the government might not have committed any more violent acts against the Paiva family, but as Eunice described, the emotional pain weighing on her and the children lasts for the rest of their lives. It’s even more heartbreaking to imagine this trauma happening on a country-wide scale. Estimates indicate that hundreds were killed or “disappeared” during the dictatorship and up to 50,000 were detained.

Though this type of violence was not unique to the Paiva family or to Brazil, the reaction of Eunice and Marcelo, especially, was truly exceptional. Perhaps following the moral example set by Rubens, they refused to stay silent, and we’re discussing this story today. For most other Brazilians, though, you’d have to assume that the kidnappings and murders had the desired effect; the regime lasted decades and, still, nobody has been held accountable.

It also must be noted that the Paiva family also had a huge advantage, as compared to your average Brazilian in the 1970s. It’s never stated explicitly in the film, but they are clearly in the top strata of the nation’s socio-economic set-up, with a big house by the beach—converted to a restaurant when they move—and a full-time housekeeper. In fact, it’s only through their social connections to a journalist that Eunice learns Rubens is dead. For countless other families, the story ended when their loved one was taken away.

No Accountability

When asked in 1996 about holding the regime’s criminals to account, Eunice says the current government “must elucidate and judge all the crimes committed during the dictatorship. If that doesn’t happen, they might continue to be committed with impunity.” This is not just a thought experiment. When the authoritarian Jair Bolsonaro regime was in power from 2018 to 2023 one of the government ministers was General Augusto Heleno, allegedly a player in the military dictatorship in the 1960s. This was allowed to happen, in part, because of a 1979 law in Brazil granting amnesty for those who took part in crimes related to the regime. In recent years there have been some attempts to reconcile with this history, but large-scale justice has still not come for many victims.

It is up to experts in Brazilian history to draw the line from the 1964 coup (backed by the United States) to Bolsonaro and the human rights abuses that were hallmarks of his reign, but it is clear that if criminality isn’t punished, criminals will be emboldened. Brazil could look to its South American neighbors Argentina and Chile, both of which prosecuted their former dictators and others who took part in abuses during their respective dictatorships. South Africa also famously held truth and reconciliation commissions after apartheid ended.

Honoring Eunice Paiva

As the subject of a 1978 documentary and Marcelo's book in 2015, Eunice’s story was known in Brazil before I’m Still Here. Now, with an Oscar for Best International Feature and a Golden Globe for Best Actress for Torres—who received universal praise for her incredible performance in this film—exponentially more people are aware of the work that Eunice did and the ordeal that thousands of Brazilians went through. A right-wing boycott was attempted in Brazil when the film was released, but it was ultimately unsuccessful as I’m Still Here is the highest-grossing Brazilian film since the pandemic. The success and the publicity are certainly more than Eunice could have imagined when she set out in 1973, in her mid-40s, to get her law degree and find some kind of justice for Rubens, her family, and the other victims.

Though she was somewhat protected by her privilege—the aforementioned affluence of her family and social connections—Eunice certainly faced incredible risks as she pursued accountability, especially during the years when the dictatorship was still in power. She (and one of her daughters) knew what the inside of the torture cells looked like and that, no matter what she did, she would never bring Rubens back. In later years, it came out that the government was indeed monitoring Eunice and her family after Rubens was murdered. Simply put, even with her husband gone, she had so much still to lose.

Many people in the United States in 2025 are thinking about what we would do if we were faced with Eunice’s situation—unfortunately for some this isn’t a hypothetical scenario any longer. Just a few months into the second Trump administration, a federal judge has been arrested, university students are being whisked off the streets by masked government agents, and innocent people are being sent to prison without due process. It’s almost to the point in the United States that one must be aware that speaking the truth about this administration’s abuses could lead to unfortunate personal and family outcomes. Eunice knew this to be the case in Brazil in 1971 but was not deterred. In the years to come, the United States will surely see its own versions of Eunice, but hopefully they won’t endure the psychological horror that too many in Brazil and around the world suffered through in the 20th century.

Discussion Questions

1. Was the personal story presented in I'm Still Here a useful way to discuss the effects of authoritarianism? Why or why not?
2. Do you see similarities between Brazil's military dictatorship and the situation today in the United States?
3. What is the most effective way for citizens to respond when their government is committing human rights abuses and other crimes? What should you do if you or your family is at risk?
4. Do people who live with greater privilege have more of a responsibility to call out government abuses?
5. Should Rubens have told his family about his activities aiding the resistance? Should he have warned them that he (or they) could be detained?
6. Should governments focus on securing the present and planning for the future for their citizens, at the expense of not investigating or acknowledging past abuses?
7. Are truth and reconciliation commissions useful tools for holding governments to account or should former officials in authoritarian regimes be prosecuted?

Works Cited

"Brazil film portraying notorious crime during dictatorship strikes chord," Tom Phillips, The Guardian, December 4, 2024

"Brazilian film ‘I’m Still Here’ tops box office, forcing nation to reckon with dictatorship trauma," Gabriela Sá Pessoa, Associated Press, December 29, 2024

"‘I’m Still Here’ Review: When Politics Invades a Happy Home," Alissa Wilkinson, The New York Times, February 7, 2025

"The Political Drama of “I’m Still Here” Is Moving but Airbrushed," Justin Chang, The New Yorker, January 30, 2025

"Truth Commission in Brazil: Individualizing Amnesty, Revealing the Truth," Paulo Coelho Filho, The Yale Review of International Studies, February 29, 2012

"With 'I'm Still Here,' Brazil confronts ghosts of dictatorship," Agence France-Presse, January 30, 2025

Carnegie Council for Ethics in International Affairs is an independent and nonpartisan nonprofit. The views expressed within this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the position of Carnegie Council.